The Bo Years

I believe I was about 25 at the time of my stroke, like I said, my memory is a little shot surrounding that particular timeline. When I got back to Salt Lake after the stroke, I was let go from my job for not having the same memory I had prior to leaving for Hawaii. About the same time I lost my job, my roommate got married and we had a pretty nasty fight and parted ways (due mostly to my own pride), I was fortunate to find a job where I would stay for 4 years with a little mortgage company in Murray. Earlier that year, while still living with Maquel, I adopted a dog. His name was Bo or Beau, Beauregard, “Bowster” Bowie or little dude, pending on how I was feeling at the time. I considered him my healing animal, for the years I had him. Yes, I lived by myself for a period of time and was able to heal a bit emotionally at that time. It’s amazing how often your spirit can bend and stretch and grow without actually breaking. That is what I feel happened to me during those years with Bo. Even the biggest of dog haters would smile when they saw his face and little body trotting up to them.

After I lived with Maquel I bounced around just a little bit, living on my own for a time, before I found a perfect spot, living with my brother.

While I was living on my own, I lived in a ward again where I made some more friends that have been instrumental in my healing process. I felt very needed and well “used”, more than I have in years in this ward. I was in charge of a service committee for a time, played the piano for a women’s meeting every week, or every few weeks and was able to create connections and friendships that have lasted to this day. While I didn’t live with any of the people who were instrumental to my healing during that time, these are girls that if I had to call for help, would do whatever they could to help me. They visited me in the hospital each time I was there, as well as made sure I still knew they cared, event though I was not always the best at keeping in touch. Even now I feel completely a part of their group, whether I make it every time, or every 4th time to an activity I’m invited to. This to me is the definition of the pure love of Christ.