A very long post about Mother's Day

(Get ready, this post is a book)

I know I'm a week behind on this one, but felt strongly about writing it anyway. As a point of forewarning, this post is more of a journal entry than my typical blogging fare.

Mother's Day is always a time of reflection for me, because I've been blessed to have been watched over by so many amazing mothers during my 38 years on this earth. As I look back, it's easy for me to recognize that different mothers have been placed in my path by a loving Heavenly Father at strategic times to provide me with the needed nuturing, care and love I needed to advance to a different stage of my life. Many of these individuals didn't know the effect they had on my life, but their contribution was essential to a young man whose first mom was taken away far too early.

So, this blog entry is to talk a little bit about the mothers who have influenced my life and deserve my love, respect and never-ending praise.

As many of you may already know, my first mother, the mom that brought me into this world, Shirley Ann Victoria Lodwig/Poyfair/Smith passed away when I was but ten years of age. This was obviously a major milestone in my life, as I recorded in this column I wrote for the Idaho Statesman on Friday, May 8, 1998.

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Life After Deadline: Personal Stories from the Statesman newsroom staff

The years bring understanding of a wonderful mother

It's been 18 years since I wished my mother a happy Mother's Day.

That's how long it has been since my stepfather took me aside and told me that she had died.

As he wept, relief swept over me. I pretended to cry, but I could not stop thinking that maybe, at age 10, my life was about to return to normal.

Maybe people would stop looking me as a poor kid. Maybe friends at school would stop treating me with pity. Maybe our family would have the money for good clothes again instead of mom's treatments.

Mom contracted cancer of the colon two years before she died in 1980. As the disease ate away at her body, I didn't want to be around her anymore.

She scared me. I didn't like how she smelled, how she looked like a shadow of the woman I knew, how the doctors and nurses would come to our home to poke her with needles.

I found ways to stay away. I would go into seclusion in my room. I would go for walks in the woods. I would hide in the hay of our barn.

A month before she died, Mom summoned me to her room. I didn't want to go. My stepfather forced me to.

Her words were simple, her tone direct even though her speech was slurred.

She tried not to cry as she explained her hopes and dreams for me.

It was important to her that I go on a LDS mission. She wanted me to attend college and get a degree.

Most of all she wanted me to be honest and upstanding, a good father who would love his family like she loved me. She said she would always be near me.

I listened, then left.

When the funeral came, everyone around me was crying. But not me.

I didn't want to be there. I didn't want people looking at me.

It wasn't until later, in my teen-age years, that I started to realize what a wonderful woman she was, and how my life was lacking without her.

It wasn't until I was married and had kids that I realized I had wronged my mother by failing to show her the love and respect she deserved in her dying days.

She had shown me love and respect.

When I was 4, I fell off a pony and shattered my elbow. I was in the hospital for a week, and my mother was right next to me whenever I fell asleep or awoke. "I'm right here, I'm right here," she said gently as my tiny body shuddered with tears.

One day, after my older brothers pinned me down and put a hissing garter snake in my face, Mom found me crying under a tree. She gathered me up and rocked me until it was all better again.

When I played soccer, she was there, until her health kept her away.

Not a birthday went by that she didn't bring treats for my grade-school class.

I am most thankful, though, for the good, strong morals she taught me in the 10 years we spent together. Her advice kept me on the straight and narrow path in my teenage years.

Her advice also drove me to get my degree from Brigham Young University and to start a family of my own.

Sadly, the memories of my mother fade with each passing year. And with each year, I miss her a little more.

I'm sure it won't be long before it will be hard to remember much about her at all.

Except for one thing I'll always remember: I'm proud that I am her son.

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I'm sorry to report that there are not too many interactions with my Mom that I truly remember. I remember her general tone, her warmth, her sadness and most of all her love. It was Mom who set me firmly on the straight and narrow path as I described above, who willed me to follow righteousness, gain a testimony, serve a mission and marry in the temple.

It's always fun for me to talk with individuals who knew Mom and describe to me her enthusiam for life, her willingness to serve the Lord and passion to have her own family sealed to her for time and eternity. I'm excited to get to know her better once more.

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When Mom passed away my Grandma Poyfair, or 'Nana' as the grandkids called her, stepped in to provide the motherly role for a short time before she passed away. In particular, I remember her immense concern for my spiritual welfare while she was preparing for a mission to Switzerland with Gramps. I remember sitting in a Dairy Queen on Mill Plain when she told me very bluntly that it was going to have to be my decision to go to Church when she was overseas. She was absolutely correct. With no real parental guidance telling me to that I had to go to church, It instead became my idea to go. When Nana and Gramps returned from their mission I was a sacrament passing deacon, going on campouts with the Scouts and a regular church attender.

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After sleeping on friends couches in Olympia, Washington during my sophomore and junior years of high school, my Uncle Ed and Aunt Sharon stepped up and graciously took me into their house with my cousins Becky, Amy, Marni, Sarah, Adam and Phillip. While the adjustment was difficult from time to time, I'll always remember the love Aunt Sharon showed me. Aunt Sharon was a practical, no-nonsense woman who I instantly warmed up to and sought her direction and counsel on my counts. She was the first real mother that I lived with following my mom's death. In addition, she was great friends with my mom and would take the time to talk about parts of my mom's life that I didn't necessarily know about.

Aunt Sharon worked overtime to get me prepared for my high school graduation, then for my first year of college and then for my mission. At my farewell she gave an amazing talk from the standpoint of a mother, helping me to remember mine while offering the love and support I needed to get me into the field. In the end, Aunt Sharon became an amazing friend, someone I loved to talk to.

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Judy Petersen is actually the mother of a high school girlfriend I used to date, but from 1989 until 1991 she became my 'Mission Mom.' I think she understood that every missionary needs to have someone they can write to every week to when your other friends drop off a few months in. It was with her that I shared my highs and lows of my mission, whom I shared my newfound testimony with, whom I wrote inspirational letters to and whom I called on Mother's Day. She's also the one who responded to all my letters, built me up and helped me through two years that are not always easy to endure. She was a perfect 'Mission Mom,' and I will always be grateful to her for her companionship during that time.

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When I married Karli in 1992 two new mothers moved permanently into my life -- Janie Orton and Aunt Penny Craner. For the record, other than my Mom, these are the only two people to whom I extend the name 'Mother' to.

'Janie' Mom has been an amazing mother to me since the early days in which I was courting Karli. Calming, quiet, patient and fun, she has been right there for every important event during my married life. Her wealth of parenting knowledge, her amazing testimony and the way she shows love to my children is truly a blessing to me.

Her ability to keep me honest during the stories that I sometimes 'embellish' is a fun inside joke that we have. I love her like my own mother and it's a privilege to be related to her.

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Which brings me to Mom. By blood she is my Aunt, but by all accounts that matter, she's my Mom. It's funny, because I once thought that when I got married, I'd no longer have a need for a mother-type of a person in my life. To be bluntly honest -- I was completely wrong.

Mom took me and Karli from our solitary BYU student lives back in 1992 and didn't let go. She immersed us with her love, included us in all Craner Family functions and when the kids came along, insisted that they received any grandmotherly perks, prizes and love that her other grandchildren received.

Like Janie, Mom was there when the kids were born, when they were blessed, baptized, ordained, etc. Her parenting examples have blessed us immensely. Her love of life, her embrace of liveliness and fun is a standard I hope to attain.

But most of all, Mom claimed me and made me one of her own children. She helped me to overcome my fear of not belonging to a family. She and Dad have stepped into my life and made me feel whole -- something that was missing for the better portion of my life and something I sorely wanted.


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We did have a couple of family events this week -- so if you're still with me, thanks, and I'm almost done.

Tough Week for Dustin -- Poor Dustin got roughed up a little bit this week. It all started with his losing his tooth a few days back (Not so bad) and ended today when he jumped off the swings at Grandma's house, smacked his head (causing it to bleed) and punctured his right middle finger pretty good (More blood.) He's fine now, though.


Thanksgiving Point Dinosaur Museum/Farm Country -- We took a quick trip to the Dinosaur Museum where the kids had a fun time looking at the bones and playing in the sand. From there we went down the road to Farm Country where Karli and I made a funny realization.

You see, they have all kinds of animals there and little vending machines filled with corn to feed the animals. You put in a quarter and get a handful of corn to feed the animals. So our kids, instead of asking Mom and Dad for quarters, go to the vending machines and then start picking up the kernels of corn that had fallen to the ground. They then feed the free kernels to the goats, chickens, horses and cows.

We had the money -- the kids just decided that it was smarter to use the corn already going unused to feed the animals. I was pretty proud of them.

Uncle Pat Reviews Everything --

Colby Craner -- Darrin and Claire's first son came into the world a few short days ago -- read all about it here. On Sunday he was blessed at Mom and Dad's home, but before that happened I got a chance to hold him. In my experience holding newborns, they just don't look as good as Colby looked. Darrin and Claire, being the cool, chic parents they are managed to style his ample head of hair into a fauxhawk. He was calm, quiet and chillin -- his coloring was good and he didn't cry. Darrin and Claire are natural parents and it will be fun to watch this little guy grow up.

Waterhorse -- Great movie about a boy and his horse set in 1940's Ireland. If you think this is just a story about a sea monster, though, you'll be pleasantly surprised with the World War II backstory. I loved it -- a great Disney family film.

Harry Careys -- Spent a few days in Chicago last week and was able to eat at the world famous Harry Carey's steakhouse. I got the bone-in ribeye with a peppercorn glaze and it was fabulous. I especially recommend this steak to Scott Craner - a devoted pepper fan. The restaurant atmosphere was a lot of fun. The prices were crazy. My steak was $50. Next time in Chicago I hope to actually see a little bit more of the city.

Well, that's it for today. Have a great week and remember to leave a comment!