The Friendship Cake

Sheri Soulis Jenkins

December 21, 1963-November 22, 2002

"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed." ~Carl Jung
　
Do you believe in signs? I know I’ve asked this question before, but for those who are new to the blog, it bears repeating, as does my answer. I am a BIG believer in signs. Messages come to us from beyond~from loved ones, if we are open to receive them. That’s my belief anyway. I have my proof, and that’s all I need.
That being said, today’s blog post is about my best junior highschool friend, Sheri Soulis Jenkins. Today would have been her 48^th birthday. Happy Birthday, Sheri!!!!
For those of you who are new to my blog and don’t know this aspect of Sheri’s story, she died on November 22, 2002 after a brave and valiant year-long fight against cancer. She was 38. She left behind a husband and daughter, her parents and a brother and countless friends, like me, who loved her and celebrate her still.
When we were kids, Sheri was my sleep over buddy. I stayed at her house some Friday nights and she stayed at mine on others. We considered ourselves both Mama and Daddy’s girls but, we talked a lot about our fathers. Her father was a big, strapping Greek guy, and my father was a short, albeit larger than life southern one. Both could instill fear in children when needed, but both, at the heart of the matter were marshmallow guys where their kids were concerned. We laughed about that. Both had important jobs-did important work, and we were very proud of them.
The first Christmas after Sheri passed, I was in a Cracker Barrel meeting my friend, Peggy, for a holiday get-together lunch, and I found a marshmallow ornament hanging on one of the trees. Coincidence? I knew not. I bought it and sent it to Sheri’s Daddy for Christmas. It meant a LOT to him. Trust me when I tell you that, because I told him the story about Marshmallow men from when we were kids.  And, whenever I see him, that's what I remember.
We had a lot of fun when we were kids in school. We worked on a lot of extra-curricular activities together. We were on the debate club.  I'll never forget when the teacher gave Sheri the topic of cats and me the topic of dogs. We had to debate which made the best pet. It was the first and only time that the teacher called a draw. She never pitted us against the other again. We were always on the same team, because we were two "convincers" as I like to say. The amazing thing about that was that most times, when you’re in competition, you want to win. I didn’t want to beat her, and she didn’t want to beat me. We were supporters of the other, so it was nice when that "draw" was handed down.
We were on the student faculty together. Sheri was a cheerleader, and I was President of the Pep Squad. She had better legs than I did, and you couldn’t have paid me to wear that flitty little cheerleading outfit. Another thing we laughed a lot about. [When you've got good legs, you don't mind showing them off.]
She thanked me every year when school ended for Christmas break because I gave her two presents: one for her birthday and one for Christmas. 
"You always remember both," she said.  "Sometimes, I don't like being born at the holiday because everyone is busy getting ready for the big day."
"I can understand that," I said.  "But, think of it this way: the entire world is decorated and cheery.  Not everyone can say that.  [I gave this same sentiment to my father once]
"Yeah," she agreed.  "But, we're on break and I have to wait to have a party with my friends."
"I get that," I said, truly understanding.  "My birthday is in August, remember?"
She laughed.  "I remember.  It's nice to have someone who understands."
"I understand," I assured.  And I did.
We had other bonds: like having our parents work at the school we went to.  Can you imagine?  It's hard to pull typical kid-shenanigans with that kind of scenario, but we managed to pull a few.  We pulled a few good ones as I recall, but those are stories for another day.
My mother was Administrative Assistant at the school we went to, and Sheri’s father was the Assistant Principal. We stayed after school a lot waiting to ride home with our parents, but we put the time to good use.  We talked and talked some more. About two blocks over was a 7-11, and we’d walk up there every afternoon and get an Icee and candy bar or Jolly Rancher hard candy.  Mr. Soulis always gave us the 20 cents.  Yeah, you heard right.  That was back when slurpies and candy cost a nickle each. Most people would probably think that was the good part of the afternoon, but, for me, it was the talks we had as we walked up and back to the store. We talked about school, teachers we liked–those we didn’t, we talked about boys, those we liked–those we didn’t. And, we talked about our parents, our siblings....any and everything under the sun was fair game for our talks. Sometimes, we’d go over to the playground and swing after we’d had our snack. That’s the place where we spoke about our dreams–what we wanted to be and do when we grew up. Motherhood was at the top of both of our lists. Fate was cruel to both of us regarding that dream. Sheri got to mother her daughter for only five short years; I didn’t get to mother either of my babies. Still, I know the five years she had with Aliya, she chock-fulled as much love and love and love into those years as she was able.
At that point in our lives, Sheri wasn’t really certain what she wanted to do. For her, she only knew motherhood was a dream. For me, I always knew I wanted to write as well as be a mother. I remember saying to her when she asked what else I wanted to do, telling her that I didn’t want to say because I thought she might laugh.
"Tell me!" she urged. "I won’t laugh. I promise."
I told her.
She didn’t laugh.
"That doesn’t surprise me," she said. "I’ve never seen anyone who reads as much as you – or likes books as much as you do for that matter."
She was right. I’ve always been an avid reader and journaler.
"You really think I could become a writer?"
"Knowing you, Jhill," she said with certainty.  "I believe you could."
I never forgot that or how much it meant to me at the time and now, thinking back on it.
Years later, part of my dreams came true. I was a technical writer working for a rail labor union.  I loved my job - that one of my dreams had been realized. It was during that time period that I learned of Sheri’s cancer diagnosis and her prognosis. It was not a great foretelling. It was a devastating one.
As I’ve previously written, I began writing to her weekly – if not weekly, every 10 days. I sent her little memories from our childhood because I knew she was putting together a book for her daughter. I just wanted her to know that sometimes, when we need them the most, a hand reaches out from our past and offers itself up again with love and support. It doesn’t matter the time that’s past. It just matters that the love is still there and willing to do all that is necessary to assure a frightened heart that you are there in spirit-in mind-in thought. I know it meant a lot to her. It meant a lot to me to do it.  It meant more than I can tell you that we reconnected across the miles. It meant alot for me to do what I'd hope someone would do for me if I found myself in her position: offer me constant words of support, hope, comfort and a laugh or two.
I suffered three losses of loved ones within a six week period of time in 2002: two aunts and Sheri. The loss of Sheri is one that has been the hardest to deal with and accept. I’ve thought a lot about the reasons for that fact. I think it’s because she was my first, close-confidant friend to transition from this life. She was my age. It made mortality very, VERY real. It made me realize that tomorrow isn’t something that any of us are promised, so we better get all our living and doing into today. It taught me that we need to make the most of the time in which we’re living, because we never know where the road is going to take us or when the road we're traveling is going to lead to an end street with nowhere else to go in this lifetime. The last year of Sheri’s life taught me so, so much about life and a having a great*full heart – appreciating time with family and friends. It wasn’t a lesson lost over time. If anything, it resonates more.
I posted last Thanksgiving, that the day Sheri passed, our radio station had begun to play Christmas songs. One came on the radio, and I had to pull over because the words of the song, which I’d heard a thousand times before, suddenly had meaning to me. I heard that song for the first time that day – really heard it. I’ll attach it at the end of this writing so that all of you can hear it too. It’s no longer known to me as Celebrate Me Home; it’s known to me as Sheri’s song.
God sends us messages if we are open to receiving them. Even in the most trying, darkest hours–moments of our lives, a message can come to us clear as can be. That was the message that was sent to me on November 22, 2002: Celebrate Me Home! Celebrate Me Home! Celebrate Me Home! I didn’t do a very good job of doing it that year because, well....I’m sure you can understand that losing someone, no matter how strong your faith, isn't something that initially strikes that chord within us.  But, that song is such a comfort to me now when I hear it.
It was as if God was saying to my heart: I’ve got her. She’s mine. She’ll be fine. She’s at peace. Celebrate her coming home to me.  She's at peace.  Remember that.
My heart knew that. My mind also had its own thoughts: she was only 38 years old; her daughter is five. She has a husband. She has parents, a brother and friends. She has a job she liked. This sucks! Life isn’t fair and don’t tell me "that’s life"! I don’t want to hear that! And, I cried. I cried buckets. I cried until my eyes were swollen up like mini baseballs. My heart hurt so bad with all the crying. I cried until I didn’t think one tear was left in me to cry. Then, I cried some more. Being the kind of person I am who has open, honest dialogues with God and am not afraid to tell him what I think or feel at any given moment, I said without hesitation over the upset and, if totally honest, anger I was feeling.  "You're asking a LOT here, God!"
I have to admit, I’ve never celebrated her leaving, and I pray about that. I know God takes each person when God is ready for them to come home, because we are never ready to let go of anyone. I was raised to believe in a life everlasting, and that others who go before us are just waiting in the next place for us to arrive and join them. Still, there are some things that, even with the passing of time, don’t feel alright to me. Losing Sheri so young will always be one of those things for many reasons.
That being said, I remember praying the day of her funeral that she’d send me a sign to let me know she was okay. I’m open to them, signs that is, and I recognize them when they come. The week after she passed, a friend gave me a book with a card that said, "Thinking of you. I hope this book will bring a smile to your sad heart."
The book was called The Friendship Cake. The weekend after her death, I laid on my sofa, curled up under a blanket, with my cat, Rhiannon, sleeping on top of me and read that book. My husband was in our back bedroom where we kept the computer working on something having to do with his master's degree, when I finished that book.
Here is what he heard:
"Oh my God! Oh my God!"
It was said in exclaimed disbelief, giddy relief with happy tears and the laughter that comes when you realize that a prayer has been answered.  The tone was high-pitched like a woman who'd just opened the front door to find Publisher's Clearing House standing there with a GINORMOUS check.
"What’s wrong?" he asked, running to me to see what was going on, not certain if I was hurt or what....
I looked at him as tears poured from my eyes and said over and over. "Sheri is in the friendship cake!"
He looked at me as if I’d landed from another planet. "What?"
I remember putting my hand to my mouth and nose as a fresh wave of tears came, trying to explain it. I held up the book and showed him the recipe. "Sheri. Look," and I pointed to the recipe. It called for cream Sherry. "She’s okay. I asked for a sign to let me know she’s alright, and the recipe for Friendship Cake calls for Sherry.  She's okay!  She's okay!  She's okay!"
He sat down and took my hand.
"Of all the things I could read," I told him. "Of all the recipes I could receive, and THIS is the one that comes to me: Sherry [Sheri] is in the Friendship Cake."
"Wow," he said. "That’s something, isn’t it?"
"It’s amazing.  It's something else!"
"Do you feel better?"
I sniffed. "Some."
"That’s good," he replied. "Maybe you should make that cake."
I nodded. "I  think I will."
And, I did. I went and bought a bottle of cream Sherry, and I made the Friendship Cake for her birthday that year and took it into work to share. It was delicious.  I saved two slices of it for Tom and I to share that night over coffee.
Nine years later, I’m passing on the story and the recipe. I hope you’ll try it, and think of Sheri when you do.   Thoughts of Sheri are a good thing.
I celebrate her today as I will continue to do every year on this day until my time in this life comes to its end. I will listen to her song and take comfort, and I will eat her cake and feel satisfied and grateful for the years she was a part of my life, because she came and touched me in ways that I cannot adequately express, and her imprint went deep.  Endless kind of deep.
I don’t know what her role is in heaven? I don’t know if she’s an angel or a beautiful flower. I like to think she’s with my father and grandparents giving all her mother-love to my children. That thought makes me very happy. Whatever she’s doing, this much I know: she has added beauty and grace to her forever home...
　
http://youtu.be/5taCcK4-ZD0 [Celebrate Me Home/a.k.a. "Sheri’s song"/Kenny Loggins]

The Friendship Cake

1 box Duncan Hines butter cake mix
1(3 ½ ounce) package instant vanilla pudding
½ cup oil
½ cup water
½ cup cream sherry
1 cup pecans, finely chopped
4 eggs

Boiled dressing:

3/4 cup sugar
6 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons sherry wine
3 tablespoons water

Place cake ingredients in a mixing bowl - ½ cup of pecans; I use the other half to sprinkle around the bottom of the Bundt pan.

Mix on slow speed with electric mixer for 1 minute, then on medium speed for 3 minutes or until well-mixed.
Pour into a greased and floured tube pan (or Bundt pan).
Bake at 325 degrees for 1 hour (Test to see if done with a toothpick). Let cake cool then turn onto cake plate just to make certain the cake comes out completely.  Put the cake back into the Bundt pan,
Boil dressing ingredients for 2 to 3 minutes. I take a knife and cut a circle around the Bundt cake’s bottom to open it up, then pour the boiled dressing into it.
Let it cool completely in pan before turning it out onto a cake plate.

Serve with a cup of tea and make certain a friend is nearby to share it with. Enjoy!!!









Happy Birthday, Sheri! Love you and Remember you always.....