A tale of two paralympic mothers
VANCOUVER, BC—The Paralympic Centre erupts in deafening cheers whenever it's Jim Armstrong's turn to throw the stone. It's the gold medal match of wheelchair curling—and judging by the roar of the crowd, the skip is our nation's champion.
Armstrong had been a dentist and able-bodied curler until knee problems and a car accident cost him both his sport and his practice. He took up wheelchair curling and says the sport teaches you humility, because once you let go of a stone you can holler at it all you want, but it just won't listen.
Wheelchair curling is possibly the most egalitarian sport of the Games. Slight grey-haired grannies share the ice with burly army veterans. Wheelchair curling is not only the Paralympics' sole mixed gender event, it also spans a wide age range— from 31-year-old bronze medalist Kallin Patrick of Sweden, to 75-year-old Takashi Hidai of Japan.
The gold medal game ended in an 8-7 win for Canada, thanks to a dramatic last-rock take out by Armstrong. Prime Minister Stephen Harper presented the gold medals.
I asked Armstrong what the equality of a sport like wheelchair curling has to say to a world where youth and strength normally reign supreme. He laughed, and said he hoped to encourage baby-boomers to "take another lick" at sports.
"Everybody here has their own story of how they got here," Armstrong said, brushing off his own story, adding that these personal journeys are "every bit as big" as the competition itself. Then he rolled into the waiting crowd and was engulfed in autograph requests.
Equality in a sport. Humility in a winner.
I was left pondering the implications of this, when I spotted Betty—Armstrong's 87-year-old mother—waiting to greet her son.
"This was always a dream of his," Betty told me. "I always knew he'd get the chance."
"Are you proud of your son?" I asked.
Her eyes flashed. "I have two sons," she told me, adding that she is proud of them both, and loves them both equally.
Betty started to regale me about the strengths and merits of Jim Armstrong's less athletic brother, but was called away before she could get too far.
Yet her message rings loudly in my mind. Yes, one of her sons may be on the cover of tomorrow's newspapers and have a stadium of thousands chanting his name. But as far as their mother is concerned—both of her children are equal. And she wasn't about to let even a whiff of favouritism slip past.
I met Carol Nicholson, mother of Canadian sledge hockey player Todd Nicholson, in the UBC Thunderbird Arena. In 2006, the Canadian team captured gold and Nicholson was Canada's flag bearer. These Games, Canada finished a disappointing fourth.
But with tears of pride in her eyes, Carol echoed to me the same words she had said to her son over 20-years-ago, when he crashed his car on the way home from his high school prom.
"I told him, I don't care what you do," Carol said. "Just don't give up."
Todd Nicholson says he clung to that unconditional message of support, now sees that same love mirrored in his wife's eyes, and hopes to pass it on to his own children.
These mothers challenged me about my own attitude to motherhood. I've always approached Mother's Day with a certain degree of ambivalence, feeling the concept of "a mother's love" has been hyped and hyperbolized by Hallmark gurus to such mythic proportions that those of us living the daily grind of housework and peanut butter sandwiches tend to fall short.
But both Betty and Carol reminded me what a mother's love was supposed to be—a love which reflected the very nature of God itself. The call of a mother is to love her child. Whether they win or lose. Whether they are strong or weak. Whether they are famous or nameless. No matter what the scoreboard or pundits say.
Every athlete I interviewed mentioned their family—whether it was their own children, spouse, parents or siblings—again and again mirroring the message of 1 Corinthians 13. Success without love is worthless.
As we look forward to Mother's Day, may we be the ones extending that unconditional love to our own families and all those who need the reminder that they too are divinely loved.
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