Mom was born in St. Paul, Alberta to Francis and
Josephine Poitras on June 25th, 1938. She was the second youngest of 8 brothers and 2 sisters. They were a french catholic family that soon moved to Paddle Prairie in northern Alberta when she was two years old. There, the family farmed and carved a life for themselves out of the prairie landscape. Mom often recalled her youth with both joy and sadness. She had many, many stories involving her brothers, sisters and friends but at the tender age of 13, Mom lost her own mother Josephine just as she was becoming a woman. She told me the story one day when I was about 12. We were standing in front of the house of her youth when she
shared the memory of waking up one morning to find her mother’s hands were cold and that she could not be roused. When she looked up, she saw a dove sitting in the open window, which looked at her and flew away. I wanted to
mention this story today because although it is a tragic one, I believe it defined who my own mother would become. She learned on that day that she would have to make her own way, but that she would find strength in her faith and the holy spirit which was present in the window sill on that sad day.
Once mom turned 18, she left the farm and traveled to Edmonton where she spent two years training to be a nurse at the University of Alberta. Over the next twenty years, she nursed in Edmonton, Spirit River, Peace River, Vanderhoof and all the way out to Niagara Falls. Mom told me that nursing was one of those special vocations that consisted of a lot of hard and dirty work but that could be rewarded with a single look from a patient. She had difficult days on the job but could never picture herself doing anything else because she felt God there in the hospital everyday. She made her own way and she said she found strength in her faith.
She was a free spirit who travelled to Hawaii, Mexico, and the East and West coasts of the US
and Canada. She eventually settled in Fort St. John where her life took a dramatic turn. She
found out she was pregnant in 1976 and was terrified. Stigma aside, she had no idea how she
was going to care for a baby all by herself. She told me that she prayed and prayed through
tears while alone at night to Mary the mother of God to give her strength. (I think that she was
hoping Mary would understand since she had experienced an unexpected pregnancy herself ).
Her head-nurse Mrs. O’Neil held her hand on a cold day in December when she gave birth to
yours truly. She said she knew her prayers had been heard when I was born on the feast day of
the the Immaculate Conception. One of Mary’s more important days on the Catholic calendar.
She made her own way while gaining strength from her faith.
When I was growing up, Mom surrounded herself with friends from the church. She managed to raise me while working full-time by letting the church village assume some measure of responsibility for me. And I never felt the absence of a father because of the sacrifices she made for me. I always remember her quiet strength with just a hint of stubbornness and I remember how important her faith was.
I remember 8 or 9 years ago being very worried about my mother as she faced retirement. I feared that after devoting her life to nursing and to raising a son, there would be nothing left for her to do once she had all that time on her hands. I was living in Japan when she retired and returned home in 2005. She usually protected me from how she really felt when speaking on the phone so I was concerned about what I would find when I returned.
I was truthfully astonished! I returned to find my mom happy and fulfilled. When I was a child,
she handed out communion, but was wary of doing the readings or anything else that might
involve her speaking in front of a crowd. Her faith was always strong, but subtle. I returned
to find her active in choir, taking seminary courses in Edmonton, being involved in multiple
church ministries and groups and most remarkably of all: officiating masses in front of hundreds of parishioners when there was no priest available. It was an incredible transformation!
It was during the last 8 years that her faith really bloomed and it is clear to me that she made her own way while finding strength in the church and in her faith.
People have told me for years how proud my mother is of me. But I’ve rarely mentioned how
proud I am of her. She overcame so many obstacles in her life that might send weaker people off course. She cared for the sick and dying for decades. She maintained a stable and loving environment for her small but growing family. She was a servant of God and her church. And she has more friends, family and friends that really are family, than any of us know and she’s touched each and everyone of them during her time on earth.
All the while making her own way and finding strength in her faith.
My mom, this remarkable woman has to go home now.
I love you mom. We all do. Go on home. We’ll see you soon.