My mom isn’t a vending machine.
No, she is on this earth to be much more than my loving mother.
I’ll be honest, my mom deserves a lot of the blame for my selfish view of her. Every single step of the way my mom has been someone I could always rely on. When I have lacked confidence at important points in my life, she has always believed in me. She is selfless and reliable, even though at times I have treated her as a resource rather than a friend.
As crazy as it is for me to conceive, my mom had a life before I existed and even before my dad was a twinkle in her eye. I wonder how much my mom thinks back to those days of her youth, where she dreamt about the future and spent late evenings reading in the dim light of her bedroom.
The early days of Joyce nee Holden’s (my mom) life were spent on an acreage in Burnaby, B.C.. She was born the oldest of six children and the daughter of Cecil and Emily Holden. It was in those early years that I assume my mom’s incredible generosity and care for others was developed.
After graduating from high school in ’69, my mom took primary school education at Simon Fraser University. After finishing she found employment in the northern community of Fort St. John, B.C.. It was here that her life would take a turn she couldn’t have imagined — she met a farmer from Saskatchewan.
The story goes that from the first time my dad met my mom, he had an enormous smile on his face —it was a grin that was clearly directed toward my mom. Somehow, by the grace of God, it didn’t turn my mom off.
The cute couple from very different upbringings moved fast. Commuting between Saskatchewan to Fort St. John and writing many letters to one another, it was only six months after they met that my parents said, “I do.”
Suddenly my mom lived on a farm near Eatonia trying to be a farm-wife. It was a difficult transition for my petite mom, who knew little about farming and whose passion was in poetry and reading — not driving a grain truck.
It must have become even more difficult when my mom and dad were told she wouldn’t be able to have children because of a condition my mom had. However, as she always has, she stuck with the journey and was rewarded with what she calls a series of miracles. Six years after getting married she and my dad had my oldest brother. Then two years later she had my middle brother and then — God bless her soul — she had me in March of ’87.
As I think about my mom’s life I realize she has been a courageous adventurer and that she is much more than just a mom — even though she has always told me that having three boys had always been her dream.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!Thank you for being more than just my mom.
Nathan Frank can be reached at 306-691-1263.