Five months after my sons stood shoulder to shoulder - in front of a group of mourners at the father’s Service of Remembrance, my boys stood together, once again and eulogized their grandfather. Two out of three sons that morning with the third son far away in Moosonee, waiting with his pregnant wife for their new baby to arrive. Zac, Ben and Pete - speaking on behalf of our family - doing something that young men aught not to have to do. That was ten years ago.

A very long time ago - now 42 years ago - Randy and I spent the Christmas season waiting for our firstborn to arrive. He arrived almost two weeks passed his due date on January 15th. It was a long labour and after almost thirty hours the doctors decided that a C-section should be performed. It wasn’t too much longer before I heard the cries of our firstborn son. Randy and I were elated. We were inexperienced new parents and made our fair share of mistakes but Zac survived and thrived.

Not too many months later we discovered that baby #2 was on the way. We were on our way north to Red Lake to visit my brother and his family and we stopped at a road side truck stop. While Randy gassed up our car and went into the store to pay and buy coffee, I nursed and changed Zac, now 8 months old. When Randy came back to the car with the muffins and coffee, they smelled like cigarette smoke and I promptly opened the car door and threw up. Yup - I was preggers again. Ben arrived early the next spring and we had two adorable boys - not quite 15 months apart.

We were a busy young family. Randy was the associate pastor at our church and I was at home, taking care of our two little men. Two in diapers! Two growing little bodies to love and feed and teach and nurture. At Christmas time that year we were entertaining both sets of parents and Randy’s sister and I was oh, so tired - that familiar fatigue. Sure enough, we found out in January why I was so tired - baby #3 was on the way. Pete was born in August - 16 months after Ben. Three sons in just under three years.

People said the strangest things - like - “wow, you really had your kids close together!” As if I didn’t realize that! Or……"Too bad you didn’t get a girl!” Really? “It’s a good thing you stopped at three!” It’s none of anyone’s business how many or how close or how far apart we had our children. Randy and I were thrilled to have three sons and we loved having them close together. If we could have - we would have doubled that number!

The boys were always together. When there was no one else to play with - they always had each other. When we went camping, there was always someone to build a giant sandcastle with, play steal on the beach and volleyball in the water. Three kids on the same baseball team. How cool is that. The boys were a grade apart in school, sometimes two in the same class. It was just fine. They played hard together and yes - sometimes, even a lot of the time, fought hard with each other too. They are brothers. They stand together.

We had good mentors. We learned from the best. Stan and Alice Castle. Ray and Ella Jolliffe.

I am so thankful for the values and truths that Randy and Grandpa Jolliffe and Grandpa Castle poured into Zac, Ben and Pete. They shared with the boys that a relationship with Jesus is the most important relationship that you can ever have. They taught them how to have respect for their elders. They taught them how to put a worm on a line and then how to take a fish off the hook without hurting it. These men taught my sons how to love their wives and their children - how to be honest in school and in their jobs….how to be faithful in the small things…..how to cheer on the Leafs and the Blue Jays……how to deal with disappointment……how to rejoice in the happy moments…...how to be men. And now, I am grateful for Harvey and how he pours himself into their lives too, how he cares for them and prays for them.

In the days and months following Randy’s death, my sons grew up in a hurry - still my boys but suddenly leaders - suddenly they were the ones I reached out to for advice and comfort. The brothers no longer had their dad to rely on for advice on marriage, on fatherhood, on ministry, on jobs, on life - but stronger men they became. They helped me make difficult decisions. They hugged when I didn’t have words - only tears. They were patient when explaining common things like putting windshield washer fluid in the car. We had switched roles somewhat.

I’m grateful for the home Randy and I provided for our sons. I’m grateful for those long ago nighttime feedings - just me and my newborn - sitting in the darkened living room - knowing that each of those nights would pass all too quickly - never to return again. I’m grateful for the gift of a rocking chair - just before Zac was born! How I held my babies for hours and rocked them to sleep in that chair. I’m grateful for all those evenings of putting toddlers to bed - reading familiar stories, singing songs, praying over them as they drifted off to sleep and giving one more hug and kiss. I’m grateful for breakfasts and lunches and suppers around our table - good food and story telling and laughter. I’m grateful for all the baseball and basketball and rugby and volleyball games we attended over the years We were always in the stands cheering and encouraging. I’m grateful for the graduations we attended - the pride and joy we felt as we watched our sons walk across the stage to receive their diplomas. I’m grateful that God gave me the privilege of raising three great humans.

Forty - two years have passed since I became a momma. It’s been my greatest accomplishment in life. Raising three tiny sons to be strong leaders in their homes and jobs and communities.

They made it easy.