Meet six women who are making a difference in their world and yours.

Wasatch Woman of the Year is an honor given to recognize everyday women doing extraordinary things. Women keep our homes, communities and businesses strong. Wasatch women work to benefit the lives of others. This award is a platform to bring attention to the few and celebrate the greatness found in many others. Honorees for 2008 have worked in the halls of government in Washington, D.C., the humble huts of a rural Mexican village and within the walls of a bank, hospital, television studio, school and home. Their decisions on how to balance family life, work, community, health and personal loss are the issues that women face daily.

An anonymous writer once penned: “If there is light in the soul, there is beauty in the person, if there is beauty in the person, there will be harmony in the house, if there is harmony in the house, there will be order in the nation, if there is order in the nation, there will be peace in the world.” Read these stories of the light found within each of our Wasatch Woman of Year honorees.

Click on a portrait to read their story.
Natalie Gochnour
Natalie Gochnour
Wasatch Woman of the Year
Jill Taylor
Jill Taylor
Businesswoman
Mary Dickson
Mary Dickson
Community
Francis Lopez
Francis Lopez
Perseverance
Marcia Anderson
Marcia Anderson
Motherhood
Merrit Denison
Merrit Denison
Up & Coming
Natalie Gochnour
Woman of the Year
by Jill Atwood
Natalie Gochnour finds joy in seeing the people around her succeed, whether it's watching her 16-year-old daughter dribble the ball around the soccer field or watching her staff collectively realize a vision for the rebirth of downtown Salt Lake City.

As the chief operating officer for the Salt Lake Chamber of Commerce, Natalie wields a lot of power, but it is not the power that drives her - it's the ideas, the relationships and the end results that matter most to her. "You're making a better community every day. That's the motivating force around here," says Natalie.

Natalie is in charge of the day-to-day operations of Utah's largest business association, which represents 4,200 employers statewide. She admits in one breath that the position is a bit more complicated than she imagined, but in the next she's steady as a rock planning a news conference at the capitol on immigration reform. "Our basic policy is don't do anything that hurts our economy; move carefully," she says. "We do need to secure our borders, we do need this workforce, let's be sensible."

Chalk it up to being the youngest of 11 in a family full of talented siblings. She says she had to develop a strong sense of self early to survive in a household full of high achievers. She rushes from a meeting to make our appointment. We're about to talk about her least favorite subject ... her. Natalie's office is spacious and comfortable with several family photos scattered among memos and to-do lists. As her phone vibrates on the desk, she asks about my 15-month-old son first thing. I immediately feel at ease. Her humility and quiet confidence are so prominent for a woman who has accomplished so much. Still, she is as down-to-earth and gabby as the next girl, once you get her going.

She admittedly doesn't like all of this attention. It's not a lack of self-confidence, more just unfamiliar ground for a woman that prefers the word "we" over "I" any day. Natalie admits she is a survivor, thriving in a male-dominated field. She worked in the Utah state government for 18 years before finally realizing her ultimate dream of working in Washington, D.C. - working side-by-side with her good friend, former Governor Mike Leavitt, a man she calls extraordinary.

"I was on a ride when we went to Washington," she recalls with a smile, her phone once again buzzing in the distance. It was a ride that would be one of the most difficult, yet spiritually enriching, experiences of her professional career.

Fresh off the high of the 2002 Winter Olympics, Natalie followed the former governor straight to Washington, D.C. She first worked for him in the office of public affairs for the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, and then became counselor to the Secretary of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. In other words, she was HHS Secretary Mike Leavitt's right-hand ... woman ... during an election year ... (pinch me!).

Her husband and children were excited about this new adventure, and of course, were there by her side. But it soon became very clear that, while her career was soaring, her children were sinking. "A 15-hour day is for slackers in Washington."

Her daughter Rosie missed seventh grade, and rather than hanging out with friends, she was cracking books with a tutor. Natalie made a decision right then: "The joy that it brought to my kids' faces and to my husband to release them and come back home was something that meant something to me."

But Natalie couldn't return home just yet, she had a job to finish. So she commuted every weekend, lived in a studio apartment and helped her kids with homework via webcam. She reflects on that amazing time when she was alone with her thoughts so much. She knew it wouldn't be forever and she made the conscious decision to relish this rare and fleeting moment in her life. It was okay to be okay with what she was doing, as long as she always remembered what a former mentor told her: "Leave too early rather than too late."

"That personal calculus you have to go through to understand what works for you and knowing that if people point fingers or make judgments, or as you point fingers at yourself, that you find a way to stand your ground," Natalie said.

Nine months later, she left D.C. behind and returned home for good to her family. Parenthood had to be her first priority. "Everything is easier in a family sense here in Utah."

Funny stories of a messy house and trips to Souper Salad with dad told her they had all enjoyed a unique experience and were stronger for it.

Just then, her phone vibrates again. Natalie comments that it's more than likely one of her children checking in. She is particularly close to her 12-year-old son, Theo, "a tender spirit" who is drawn to basketball and is a big Jazz fan. "The other day he called to tell me D-Will was on the 2008 PlayStation Six Pack Team ... or something like that," she laughs.

Her professional focus right now is observing and asking a lot of questions in her new position. She admits that Downtown Rising is her baby, her passion. Getting new funding for the Women's Business Center is also in the works. "I think that the female voice is so important and we need more," she explains.

Her personal focus lies with her family, which often consists of weekends on the slopes or taking in a Real Salt Lake game. (Did I mention she used to play right wing for the Utah Women's Soccer Association, too?)

Her eyes light up when she speaks of her husband of 23 years. She knows she's lucky. Chris Gochnour is a gifted furniture maker and woodworker with a spiritual side that balances out her analytical side just perfectly. Their bond is easy and forever. They're in the process of renovating a studio for him. "A diamond in the rough," she calls it, located in an industrial part of town. She looks forward to watching him grow and thrive there for years to come.

Her oldest daughter, Rosie, will be heading off to college soon, something Natalie says she's having a hard time thinking about. But it's obvious she loves watching her feisty, young teen grow into an independent young woman.

"I think that's the purpose of a story like this, to take whatever it is that gave me that opportunity, and I don't mean just Washington, I mean the opportunity of living this life. The kids, the furniture maker and all that - if it any way inspires or brings out the best in other women that's worth it to me."

It's hard not to admire - even envy - a woman who has it all and doesn't apologize or feel guilty for it. I asked her: "How does a woman get to that point?" half expecting to finally be given the key to some exclusive club most women don't allow themselves to join. But it wasn't quite that complicated. "I don't know," she says. "Just listen to your heart."