By the time I reached Grade 3, my mom had managed to do something that felt like a huge step forward for our family.
She found us a small two-bedroom house not far from where my kokum lived. It wasn’t big, and it certainly wasn’t fancy, but for us it represented stability after a lot of uncertainty.
In that little house lived my three younger sisters and me. Looking back at old photos, I see myself trying to look cool—though at the time I had no idea what “cool” even meant.
What I didn’t fully understand then was the depth of the sacrifice my mother was making for us.
The Sacrifices Behind Every Success
When I speak to audiences today, I often remind them of something important:
Every single person in this world stands on the sacrifices of someone else.
Maybe it was a parent.
Maybe it was a grandparent.
Maybe it was someone who lived long before we were born.
Someone, somewhere, gave something up so we could have the opportunities we have today.
And if you have children, if you lead a team, if you mentor others—you’re making sacrifices too.
That’s how progress happens.
My Mother’s Bed
On the first day we moved into that little house, my mom showed us the rooms.
One room was for me.
One room was for my sisters.
And her bed?
It was the couch in the living room.
From Grade 1 all the way until I graduated high school, my mom slept there so her kids could have rooms.
That’s the kind of sacrifice that doesn’t show up in history books.
But it’s the kind of sacrifice that builds futures.
The Kitchen Table Office
Around the corner from that couch was the kitchen table.
That table became my mom’s office.
At that time, there weren’t entrepreneurs in our community.
There weren’t business mentors.
There weren’t people talking about financial independence or building companies.
Very few people even had vehicles.
Getting to a job in the city was incredibly difficult.
Higher education was almost unheard of.
No one in my family had ever earned a university degree.
For many Indigenous communities, generations had been conditioned into systems that limited opportunity. Our people had been pushed onto small pieces of land after treaty agreements, separated from the broader economy and society.
For a long time, leaving the reserve to pursue education or business wasn’t even allowed.
So when I look at my life today—standing in rooms speaking to leaders and organizations—I understand something deeply:
I represent people who came before me.
And I carry their sacrifices with me.
The Hard Reality of Survival
At that kitchen table, I often watched my mom do something that would shape how I understood money and responsibility.
She would sit there each month budgeting our welfare check.
And sometimes, the math didn’t work.
When that happened, she would have to pawn belongings so we could afford things like school clothes or lunches.
Sometimes we collected cans and bottles and took them to recycling depots for spare change.
Even basic necessities like water weren’t guaranteed.
Our community was on boil-water advisories, and sometimes the water would turn discolored. For days we couldn’t drink it.
These were realities happening across many communities—but back then the world didn’t see it.
There was no social media.
No livestreams.
No viral videos exposing these conditions.
Much of it happened quietly.
The Bus Ride That Opened a Door
One of the most important decisions my mom made came when I was in Grade 3.
She put me on a bus that would take me off the reserve for the first time to attend school in a nearby non-Indigenous town called Cut Knife.
At the time, about 600 people lived there.
Students from three nearby First Nations communities were bused into that school.
That bus ride represented more than just a change of classrooms.
It represented exposure to a different world.
Different opportunities.
Different possibilities.
Why Sacrifice Matters
Today, when I reflect on those early years, I understand something clearly.
My mother’s sacrifices weren’t just about survival.
They were about changing the direction of our family’s story.
Every late night she spent budgeting.
Every uncomfortable night she slept on that couch.
Every difficult decision she made.
It all created opportunities that eventually allowed me to step into rooms like the ones I speak in today.
A Responsibility to Give Back
Because of that, I carry a responsibility.
I don’t just represent myself.
I represent the sacrifices of my mother, my grandparents, and generations before them.
And that drives me to keep working—to help others, to share these stories, and to create opportunities for the next generation.
Because the truth is:
The sacrifices of one generation can unlock the possibilities of the next.
Final Thought
When you think about your own life, take a moment to ask yourself:
Who sacrificed so that I could be here today?
And just as important:
Who am I sacrificing for?
Because progress doesn’t happen by accident.
It happens when someone decides that the next generation deserves something better.
hiy hiy
