My Mother.

“Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy. That is not our business and, in fact, it is nobody’s business. What we are asked to do is to love, and this love itself will render both ourselves and our neighbors worthy.”

― Thomas Merton

 

That’s my mom.

My mother’s commitment to her family is very visible; she is always surrounded by family. It’s hard to catch her without a baby in her arms, a few preschool kids running in circles around her, school-aged kids in her classroom before and after school. She spends much of her free time driving across the valley to performances and athletic competitions. All of her children have been adults for a long time now, and she's still taking care of all of us in various ways. She’s also spent a lot of hours taking care of her and my father’s parents over the last decade.  Her family is, and always has been, her first priority. There is no discussion of who deserves what. She just makes sure people have what they need.

Valerie with a string of a few of her grandkids, 2012

As I try to figure out how to balance my five kids, the challenges of a career in education, the hours dedicated to being a volunteer EMT with the various other ways I’m invested in the same community that has invested in me,  I have a great role model, who has been balancing all those same things, humbly and with excellence my entire life.

I don't make most decisions about my life as consciously as I probably should, but I realized a few years ago that all the big pieces of my life look an awful lot like the woman's I admire most. Probably not coincidence.

I have never once felt our family wasn’t the most important piece of my mom’s life or that she was too busy to be everywhere I needed her to be and do everything I needed my mom to do, yet she’s been a professional since before I was born. She’s educated and ambitious. She started teaching before I came along and has been to graduate school a few times for a few different specialties since. She has had an active EMT license longer nearly anyone in the state of Montana.
 

She’s covered more calls than anyone in the history of our local ambulance service.  And nearly every year she still covers as much as anyone on the crew.

 Mom receiving her award in February from Montana governor Steve Bullock for her years of service to our ambulance service.

About once a month someone calls the ambulance and when I walk in, someone there calls me by name—my mother’s name—always happy I’ve arrived. She's been taking care of the people in the community for so long, many of them think she is the ambulance service. There’s no one I’d rather be mistaken for.

 Mom and me at EMT training in Las Vegas

When we’re training new people for the ambulance, we always remind them to pay attention to who your patients are. Sometimes the ones who need the most care and attention aren’t the ones with the most obvious or traumatic looking injuries. Sometimes they may have not been physically injured at all, but that doesn’t mean what they need at that moment is any less important. I can problem solve injuries and remain calm while doing CPR, but those calls where you need to calm and comfort those in emotional distress? When you need to know what is appropriate, silence or words? It’s hard for me. Impossible sometimes. When you work on the ambulance you often walk in to people's lives on the worst day they’ve ever had. When your life falls apart, my mother is exactly the type of person you want at your side. And for many people in our community, for many decades, that person has been my mother.

She's a teacher by nature but also by training. I can't imagine anyone better to help new EMTs learn the practical pieces of the job or to teach my own children to love reading. But she's also taught hundreds of local children who've passed through her classrooms over the years. She is truly an expert in her field. I think she's taught nearly every elementary grade and currently teaches middle school special education. Many people (myself included) couldn't do that job at all; few could do it anywhere near as well as she does.

Helping students get their boats they built ready to race--one of the components of the Watershed summer program she designed and facilitated for local kids for many years.  


She is the type of teacher every kid deserves and far too few get. She is thinking about them and working for them far beyond the school day. We gave her a hard time a few years ago when she accidentally posted a picture with a couple students to our family facebook group. Her response: “They’re like family. Maybe that’s where it belongs.” She spends hours outside of school trying to figure out how to better help all these kids.

One of the many times she's invited her students to ride in the ambulance with her for one of the local parades.



A few years ago I went to watch the 8th grade promotion, and realized the latest sewing project my mom had been working on was a dress for one of her students for this occasion. She just does stuff like this. All the time. And she’s been doing it for more than three decades now. These kids aren’t just her job—they’re people she cares about and they know it.

Encouraging some middle school students during their spring 5K– one by running the entire race right at his side and the other (her grandson) with some good old fashion encouragement: "Are you going to let your Grandmother beat you?!" 

 

My mom has been recognized in many different ways over the course of her teaching career. This is a picture with her mother at the dinner where she was recognized by our local tribe as teacher of the year.

 A year or so ago I read the Marie Stopes quote, “You can take no credit for beauty at sixteen. But, if you are beautiful at 60 it will be all your own doing.” It reminded me of my mom, just about to turn 60. 

I’ve worked with a lot of 16-years-olds, and I think one of the hardest things about helping them sort out their lives and make good decisions is that many think what they have in front of them at that point is as good as it gets.  

Mom at the Arlee Powwow with her mother-in-law and a trio of her granddaughters

They don’t understand how much more there is to look forward to. I think sometimes the rest of of us who are starting figure that out don’t do a good enough job reminding our daughters of all the different ways life allows you to become more and more beautiful and amazing once you survive 16.

Mom flying kites with my kids.

I’m not sure if my Mom is really excited about me sharing her age with everyone, but I think it’s sort of a public service announcement or maybe just reminder for all her granddaughters watching her every day: Pay attention to what a life well lived looks like. 

Annual New Year's Day Polar Plunge--mom leading four of her kids and about a dozen of her grandkids in!

 
She’s done such a good job at the mom thing, I’m often left wondering why my kids haven’t caught on to the lessons she taught me. While dealing with my own kids, more than once I’ve caught my self thinking , “Why aren’t you doing this like you’re supposed to?! Mom has been telling us this forever!”

And then I remember I’m the mom. Or their mom at least. Why can’t lessons be hereditary? It would make my life so much easier.

 Mom being honored by her work at the tribes' annual River Honoring

But luckily, for all of us, my kids do have my mom, too. Their grandmother isn’t someone they just see on holidays or talk to on the phone on birthdays. They all see her nearly every day. Yaya's home is their favorite place to be.  

They are learning from her, daily lessons both big and small.

 

Be kind. Get outside. Work hard. Take care of each other. Take care of yourself, too. Teach one another. Never stop learning. Build something people want to be a part of.

Welcome people as they are and help them become better version of themselves.

Arm wrestling Israel a few years ago. She won. (I think he's added about 50-60 pounds since this picture. She has not asked for a rematch recently. ;) )

 Mom running the Buffalo Run. It's a little embarrassing, but also awesome that my mom could easily beat me in a race. She works out every morning.

Finishing the race the following year...this time with a group of her granddaughters
 

dancing with Azia at the Mission school powwow
 

 

And I’m still learning too. She was my first teacher. 

1977, maybe?

She is still the best one I’ve ever had.

She still teaches me things every day.

Possibly most importantly:

Do some things right, make some good choices, and this is what 60 could look like.

"Be related, somehow, to everyone you know."

 My world, my children’s world, is full of heroes.

When my kids start talking about what happened today, that’s the part of the story we’ll focus on: how teachers, the principal, policemen, and volunteer firemen all acted quickly and selflessly to try to save hundreds of kids. I’ll remind them how lucky they are to be surrounded by so many people who would also do whatever it takes to keep them safe: parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, teachers, and all those community members we love as much as our family.  

My kids came home from school today, like they do all days, laughing and bouncing and chatting rapidly and excitedly with a huge gang of cousins and siblings. They’re carefree and happy. Here, the good stories are winning, and they often crowd out all the negative news. I’m fine with that.  My kids know far more good people than bad, and their world is full of far more good than evil. Even though my children live in a world where bad things happen, I don’t want them to live in fear.

We haven’t yet discussed this awful event, and I won’t bring it up until they do. My kids aren’t immune to tragedy. They’ve already seen too much of it and I’m sure over the next few days they’ll hear more about this one and have questions. They’ll know what happened; unfortunately, they do understand the reality that sometimes we can’t keep everyone safe. I hate that, but we’ll spend no more time elaborating on those facts and we’ll not discuss the person responsible. Evil like that deserves no more of our time; it’s stolen too much from us already.

People are quick to condemn our government, our gun regulations, and our health system. Surely all of that could be improved, but I’m not optimistic any of those types of changes will prevent awful things like this from happening. Throughout my life, I’ve found stories and relationships have always been more powerful than laws. It’s exactly why we don’t need to hear this particular story on repeat everywhere we turn. We’ve given over our storytelling to the media and it’s much too important a position to hand off to social media and networks looking for sensational headlines. I never need to see the face of the people who commit crimes like this and neither do my children. We don’t need to know what he was planning, or the total body counts compared to other massacres, or see documentaries about who he was. I don’t need to know his story. I feel like our country’s obsession with spreading horrific news has been more to blame for the increase in these types of crimes than our too lenient gun laws. People considering horrific things don’t need any more horrific ideas, and they don’t need to see people who commit acts like this getting national fame.

Today’s national tragedy comes at the end of a month of local tragedies, which makes the loss seem even more overwhelming. My community is small—just few hundred people, our whole reservation is only thousands, not even the size of a small city. We’ve had multiple violent murders in the last few weeks and lost some good people to senseless crimes. It’s hard not to feel powerless. It’s hard not to feel like evil is winning.

But we aren’t powerless and I think in times like this, when we get hit with such huge losses, it’s even more important to remember that. It’s important to remind our kids of the truth of that as well. I have hope that our government will support good things, but I find it naive to believe legislation and policy will protect me from people with no regard for basic human life. Laws and policy are also not going to make my elementary school children feel safer. I’ll continue to vote for laws and people I believe in, but laws are for those of us who agree to follow them.

I’ll continue to encourage my kids to be those sorts of people who do follow them. I’ll continue to surround them with good people and continue to remind them how important it is to look out for one another and to be kind to each other, especially to those who are often hard to be kind to. I think we too often underestimate how powerful these simple things can be.  When huge tragedy happens everyone cries for huge changes; I think it makes more sense to start with small ones.  One of my favorite ideas is Ella Deloria’s suggestion to, “Be related, somehow, to everyone you know.” We need to spend more energy paying more attention to the people we see everyday. I think establishing connections and awareness can be more effective than implementing more systems filled with people with no background with or connection to the people they’re being paid to help.

I’ll continue to encourage my children to pay attention, to be a part of the community where they live. And I’ll continue to tell them stories of people who are brave and strong and selfless.  We’ve had many great leaders in this country who’ve made hard choices that have made our lives better and who have made huge sacrifices for others. My children have family members who have done the same. It’s these stories they need to be familiar with.

And even in our horrific local tragedies, that piece of the story is there. We live among brave men, real heroes, who when confronted with evil, will give everything to protect others. Those are the people we need to remember. Theirs are the lives worth knowing. Honor and courage and loyalty and selflessness aren’t just lofty ideals and people who believe in them and act according to them aren’t just the stuff of fairy tales.

They’re the only real protection we have.