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| Lloyd & Mike MacKenzie, Lethbridge, Alberta |
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| Lloyd, Pat, and Mike MacKenzie |
First some stats
Born: October 24, 1949 in Fredericton, New Brunswick
Mission for the LDS church: California South Mission
Married: March 27, 1971 to Millicent Patricia McCarthy
Children: Robert, Jennifer, Amy, Sara, Michael, Mary, Emily
Number of Grandchildren: 24
My family moved around a lot, even before I came around. We were living in Prince George, BC, when I was born. My four older siblings had been born in three different cities. Soon after my younger sister was born, we moved to Prince Albert, Saskatchewan, and then we moved again a year later to Nova Scotia. We had three short stays in towns in that province until we eventually moved to Cole Harbour in 1984. It was here that we though our family would settle down. My father worked as a senior manager for the federal government (Supplies & Services) and was called as bishop when our ward split. We all made friends closer than any we had made before. Most of my elementary school was completed there, and it's where my youngest sister, the last of my parents' seven kids, was born. Cole Harbour was what we considered our hometown even though all but the youngest of us had been born in western Canada.
In the late '80s, my father had an opportunity to go into business with some partners running two restaurants, so he retired from his government job to pursue this. A couple of years later, it became clear that the profits from the restaurants weren't nearly enough to support a family of nine. Dad was unsure about what he should do, so after some prayer and serious discussion with Mum, he felt prompted to move from Nova Scotia to Raymond, Alberta, which is where his mother and his sister Joyce lived at the time. He didn't know what there was for our family in southern Alberta aside from some cousins; all he knew was that the Lord wanted us there. I was only 11 years old when he gathered us together one family home evening to announce his intentions to us, so I just accepted his decision, but my older brother and sisters were sad and angry to be uprooted from the town we had adopted as our home. We only lived there for five years, but that was a lot longer than anywhere else we had lived before. It wasn't until I moved to Picture Butte when I was 31 that I lived anywhere longer than the time I spent in Cole Harbour.
To prepare the way for us to move to Raymond, my father traveled across country by car several times to find a place to live and to make arrangements to have our things moved across seven provinces. Traveling alone, he could push himself to make it in three days. When the time came for us to hook up a U-Haul trailer to Larry Heninger's 1968 Fargo, and then cram six people into a Honda Civic, it took us eight long days to make the trip. When we arrived in Raymond, Dad wasted no time looking for work in Lethbridge. He took any job he could get. He spent three days working for the wool growers, but had to quit after a bale of wool fell on him and hurt his back. He spent some time working as a night auditor at a motel, which I can tell you from experience is hard to do when you have kids at home during the day. All the while, he had grumpy teenagers to contend with as they adjusted to a new home that was drastically different than their old one. It was a time of much sacrifice, patience, and hard work for Dad, but he went through it without ever taking his frustration out on his wife and children. It wasn't immediately apparent why the Lord wanted us in Raymond, but eventually things started to change for the better. We all made strong friendships in Raymond, many of which still last to this day. Dad got a job as a customs officer at the Del Bonita and Coutts border crossings, which led to a series of promotions and connections that led him to the rewarding career he had until his health forced him to retire in his 60s.
I share this story because it illustrates one of the largest trials my family had to deal with, and my father guided us through it as deftly and faithfully as I think anyone could have. It was a time that could have torn our family apart, but through his love, patience, and faith it brought us closer together and blessed our lives for years to come.
Dad was a provider. Through diligent hard work, he provided his family with all of our physical needs. Mum helped by working as well, especially once we were old enough to be left home without her, but Dad was always the primary breadwinner in the home. He never lorded that over us, though. He did it because he loved us, and he just naturally had a strong work ethic. More importantly, Dad was a teacher. He would read to us when we were young, teach us about finances when we were older. He taught us how to fix things, how to take care of ourselves. He taught us how to play sports. While we were in Cole Harbour, he was my softball coach for one year, but even outside of that, he would always play sports with us, teaching us how to play and giving pointers to help us improve. He and I are both below average in height, and he was good at teaching me how to play basketball against taller opponents. He also taught us a lot about religion growing up. I think I learned as much from him as I did from Sunday School. I can't remember seeing him read any fictional books aside from my sister Jenny's novels, but he read church-related books often.
In addition to a provider and a teacher, Dad was also a caregiver. He would read us bedtime stories, cook on occasion (especially big breakfasts and barbecues), and play with us. When we were little kids, he would make up songs about us, or rewrite songs to be about us. The one I remember best is this:
Well, his name is Mike
Deedle-eedle-eedle-ee
And he rides his bike
Deedle-eedle-eedle-ee
He turns on the light
In the middle of the night
But he doesn't fight
Though he sometimes bites
Dad was very supportive. Two examples of this come to mind. A few years ago, Sara, Mary, Greg, Curtis, Noah, and I ran the Sinister 7 relay trail run, which all together is 100 miles and goes through the night. Even though his health was starting to go downhill at the time, he insisted on being there for most of it, meeting us at the stations where runners would switch. He wanted to cheer us on and make sure we were okay. Another example happened back in the '90s. Dad left the Church when I was 18. When I was 20, I decided to serve a mission. Despite his feelings for the Church at the time, he never discouraged me. In fact, he was extremely supportive and felt that serving a mission would be a great experience. He wrote letters of encouragement while I was in the field, and he cheered me on just as much as he did when we were running the Sinister 7.
Above all, Dad was an example. Yes, he taught us how to live in words, but the most effective lesson was how he lived his life. He worked hard, he was honest, he loved my mother deeply and in a way that left no doubt how he felt about her, and he loved his children and would do anything for their well-being. Everything I do right as a husband and father is something I saw my own father do. I have been taught lessons in church about how to be a good father since I was a deacon, but all of the best lessons I learned from Lloyd MacKenzie.
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| Rob, Lloyd, and Mike MacKenzie, Phoenix, Arizona |
Dad was a great father. He was also my friend. He was my golfing buddy, watching hockey with him made it more enjoyable, and late-night burger runs brought us closer together. I'll miss having barbecues in his backyard and just sharing moments together. I gave the talk that I pulled a lot of this blog post from in church five years ago, and I cried through the whole thing. Dad had already been diagnosed with the liver condition that eventually killed him, but that was just a small part of what brought me to tears. Mostly, it was simply reflecting on my father's life now that I was a father, recognizing all the good he had done for us. I was overcome with love for the greatest man I know. I'm lucky to be his son. I'll miss him so much.
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| The MacKenzie family, Edmonton, Alberta |
