Mieke's Story

Growing up with my family in England, I never really appreciated my mother until later in life when I had to deal with life’s challenges and change. Her wise words resonate to this day.

Mieke Frankenberg didn’t so much talk the talk, but walk it. She was born in Deventer, Holland, and raised by a very Victorian chief of police father and beautiful but emotionally damaged mother. At 20, my mother married the first boyfriend she’d ever had and left for Indonesia to live on a tea plantation. She literally lived in a jungle with little social interaction, and her husband was very abusive. One day, she confided in a friend who told her to run, so she left not knowing what she would do.

The war broke out soon after, and she stayed to support her best friend who was pregnant. They both ended up in the same Japanese internment camp. Three-and-a-half years later, having used her Red Cross nursing skills and basic ability to talk and calm the people who were dying, she realized that her will to live came from being needed by others who were far worse off. She always told me that in times of great challenge, accept what is happening and look to see what you can do to help others. By doing that, you have a purpose in life and by opening your heart, love will find its way in.

The stories my sisters and I have heard about our mother during those years were so inspirational. She gave her limited rations to pregnant or lactating mothers and found a way to catch flying ants, snakes and snails and cook them on the back of a discarded iron. Growing up, I saw her spend a large part of every day, until the day she died, caring about how her friends were coping with the ups and downs of life. She would talk for hours with friends who were blind, and she would open her home to single mothers, allowing their kids to join in with our family.

The war broke out soon after, and she stayed to support her best friend who was pregnant. They both ended up in the same Japanese internment camp. Three-and-a-half years later, having used her Red Cross nursing skills and basic ability to talk and calm the people who were dying, she realized that her will to live came from being needed by others who were far worse off. She always told me that in times of great challenge, accept what is happening and look to see what you can do to help others. By doing that, you have a purpose in life and by opening your heart, love will find its way in.

The stories my sisters and I have heard about our mother during those years were so inspirational. She gave her limited rations to pregnant or lactating mothers and found a way to catch flying ants, snakes and snails and cook them on the back of a discarded iron. Growing up, I saw her spend a large part of every day, until the day she died, caring about how her friends were coping with the ups and downs of life. She would talk for hours with friends who were blind, and she would open her home to single mothers, allowing their kids to join in with our family.