Today is March 23, 2008 - the 81st Birthday of my mother.

My mother was born in Coaldale, Alberta, Canada, the second daughter of Russian Mennonite immigrants who arrived in Canada in 1926 from the Omsk region of Russia. She was one of 13 children. (Interesting note - while she was one of the younger ones at her death at 74, only she and three of her siblings are deceased at this writing. Longevity seems to the name of the game!)

I know little of her growing up years except that I am sure that they must have been difficult. She was born shortly after the arrival of the family in Canada. The Depression came soon after. The family moved to British Columbia in the last 1930s.

Her father was not a church-going person; her mother was a woman of faith. Her father became a Christian in Canada sometime in the 1930s.

My parents met while attending evening Bible School classes at the church my father attended. They were married on August 9, 1947.

When I think of my mother today I am reminded of her devotion to her family, her hard work, her faith and her courage.

My mother was not the best cook; she was, however, the best baker in the family and in the neighborhood. When it came to family gatherings, she was always asked to contribute her butterhorns or pies or other pastry items. She was an excellent seamtress; she made many of my sister's dresses.

My mother was a very hard worker. I remember her putting many hours into her garden, into caring for the strawberry patch (we had about an acre of strawberries), taking care of the chickens (we had about 1,000 laying hens when we were small), and then helping in the dairy when it came to milking the cows. I still recall a winter when my dad was laid up with a sore back for months, mother and I milked the 20 cows morning and night. Besides doing all the chores outside, my mother also had to do all the other work inside the house.

My favorite memories of my mother are around playing chinese checkers with her while she ironed clothes. Since I had younger sisters to play with, I don't remember me and my mother spending much time together.

My mother was a woman of deep faith. She was a faithful church attender, a person who read her Bible and prayed. Her faith was not an intellectual faith; she actively practiced her faith by her deeds of kindness to many of the neighbors. My mother was attracted to all those in the community who seemed to be rejected by others. She was a woman filled with grace and forgiveness for those who most needed it and didn't find it.

It is probably this last feature of my mother's life which has affected me the most to this day: no one is outside of God's love. Love all you meet - no matter how unlovable they may seem.

My mother was also a woman of great courage. She was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 67. She underwent a radical bi-lateral mastecectomy after diagnosis. She courageously fought off the disease for many years, ended up in a wheelchair for a number of years, refused to be a victim and finally succumbed to the disease on June 15, 2000 - six months after my father's death.

Today is Easter Sunday, 2008. So it is fitting that I celebrate the resurrection on my mother's 81st Birthday.

Mom, I love you.
Mom, thank you for loving me.
Mom, thank you for teaching me how to pray.
Mom, thank you for showing me how to love others.

Mom, I hope to see you someday - celebrating God's love with you.

(c) 2008 Ronald Friesen