Manana

     As a result of what is going on in my life as well as what is going on in the world around us, I started a gratitude journal. Around bedtime I make note of one thing that I am thankful for that day. It has become an end of day routine that I am finding beneficial. And although my mood is typically less positive during these darkening days, I feel a little more upbeat, a little less stressed, a little more able to get a restful sleep as a result of this new practice.
     This week I learned how to say thank you in Pashto. It was taught to me as a result of meeting some folks new to this country and a donation of some family furniture. I know next to nothing about the people receiving the couch and some other pieces but I do know that I was the one who received the larger, more profound gift. The reality that these families had escaped an oppressive regime half a world away with almost none of their own possessions affected me deeply. Their simple expression of thanks was one that I will never forget. And today, that is what I am grateful for. As divided and hate-filled as this world can be, there are instances of love. "Love thy neighbour as thyself" Jesus said. Helen, you helped show me what that looks like. Thank you! Manana!

Moon

     We have been packing up our parents' belongings to move them to a new home. It has been an experience fraught with a plethora of feelings; there are so many memories wrapped up in almost everything we put in a box or a bag. It makes the process a lengthy one, one that keeps getting bogged down in remembrances of times past with photos and correspondence, bits and pieces of years and years of life fully lived. 

     Change is hard; grief catches me off guard. Deeply felt emotions surface at sometimes inopportune moments and I can either experience them or stuff them away, to be dealt with at a hopefully more convenient time, whenever that will be.... Whenever I consider my own parents' end of life arrangements, I can’t help but ponder my own. Thinking about my own mortality is never easy, particularly with a special needs daughter to consider. There are always those things left undone (at least in my case there are) which can keep me awake at night. 

     One thing that I enjoyed finding as I packed was The Montreal Star from July 30, 1969, printed one day before my twelfth birthday. My father had kept a few noteworthy headlines and used them to line a dresser drawer. That was the day the paper published photos of earth that were captured by the Apollo 11 space flight. What amazing images! On July 20, 1969, Apollo 11 Lunar Module Eagle had landed on the moon. As all of us kids crowded on my parents' bed to watch the moon landing on our small television, my father declared that as a young boy in school in England, he had been told that what we were witnessing was an impossibility and could never be done. We knew then that the impossible can become possible. At this moment, in a world seemingly full of violence and division, I pray that that might still be true.

Peace

     Recently I attended a Peace Vigil for the Peoples of the Middle East which was presented by the Surrey Interfaith Council. I was delivering a message from our rector who is a Palestinian Christian and not able to attend as he was away. We learned from a handout that the "The Golden Rule" is the same no matter what religion you practice: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." or: "Do not do to others what would cause pain if done to you." and multiple other versions of the same admonition from all over the world, from every religion. It was a simple yet profound reminder that we are all one.

     After the welcome, a Muslim boy gave the call to prayer, a Muslim prayer was translated, I shared Father Joe's message and prayer and a Hebrew prayer was offered up by our facilitator. We were encouraged to breathe deeply, to feel our feelings, to take responsibility for them and if we wanted to, to share them. We then heard stories of intense sadness, anger, wisdom, worry and faith. One person left, there were tears shed. We also heard many prayers from different faith groups. Our names were used, our faiths or our country of origin were named but not in a way to make us seem different from each other but to reaffirm our unity, our one-ness in the room. We didn't have a lot of time together but there was an opportunity for us to eat and talk amongst ourselves. The food was delicious and so graciously provided by various participants. We closed with a song. 

     I was happy to have attended, privileged even, to have been asked. The evening was expertly facilitated, perfect in length and all stories were heard and honoured. Many faith traditions offered words of comfort, words of peace. To witness the pain of others but also to hear intentions of goodness and unity was a gift to me at this time of immense strife and upheaval. It reminded me that kindness is always necessary; we truly have no idea what others have to deal with in their lives. It put a human face to the ever present media coverage of war but also gave me a glimpse of what could be. Even in the face of human suffering, it's there: hope.

Parent

     Our eldest’s twenty-fourth birthday just passed which means I have been a mother for about twenty-five years. Twenty-five years of the most fun, the most rewarding, the most heart-stopping time of my life. (My husband first became a dad almost fifty years ago but that’s a different story for another day.)

     I never wanted children when I was younger. I had enough trouble looking after myself and so I thought that I would leave the child rearing to someone better equipped for that adventure. This changed for me in my late thirties, thank goodness! I wouldn’t have missed this for anything, literally anything. That’s not to say that there have not been challenges---- there have been terrible, unforeseeable hard times. But all in all I would not trade the experience of being a parent for any amount of money or anything else. For me, being a mother trumps it all, hands down. The chance to bear my girls, to feed them and know them and love them is something that I would never want to miss.

     Your heart cannot be broken if it has not loved; when we love others, we become vulnerable. I am thinking about my girls whether they are sailing halfway around the world or driving down a local highway. It is the price you pay for being a parent. The deaths and resulting grief we experience over the course of our lives only magnify our concern. They teach us that life is not fair; there are no guarantees of longevity for ourselves or our loved ones. All I know is that I am profoundly grateful for all of these twenty-five years, every day, every hour, every minute. I maybe didn't know it at the time but I do now.

    

Bill

     A long time ago when our youngest was still in elementary school, the girls started to go to a martial arts class along with their dad. It was held in a nearby school and they all really enjoyed it. They didn’t stick with it as it turns out, kids being kids and my husband’s work schedule being what it was. But a few lasting friendships were made and one in particular has lasted, until this very day. 

     Bill is a lovely man: soft-spoken, gentle, smart, with a marvelous sense of humour and a quiet and wise way about him. He was great with everyone at the karate class but I especially like how he was with our girls. Bill liked to make them laugh but it is the way he spoke and still speaks to everyone that so impresses me: respectfully, kindly and with natural empathy. When you speak to Bill you know that he is listening; his genuine interest is thoughtful and profound. He has always regularly called us and even brought lunch for all of us to our new home. He is a gentleman, in every sense of the word.

     Bill showed us the true depth of our friendship when he helped us move. It was a hellishly long and mucky experience; days and days, no weeks and weeks of slogging through ridiculously endless piles of building materials, farm equipment and whatnot. He showed up every day (along with a few other amazing relatives and friends) with his own dolly, gloves, weight belt and even his own lunch: cheerful, smiling and loyal to the end. He never complained or said a negative word. We didn't deserve him. He was my hero.

     Now we are losing Bill to cancer, an insidious, excruciating and odious end to a life that should have lasted at least twenty more years, contentedly and with a peaceful finish. I am angry and sad and bereft. I am not naive enough to believe that life is fair— it isn’t, but the wrongness of this looming death, too soon and too terrible, leaves me teary-eyed and breathless. We all love Bill. It is our privilege to know him and count him as a friend. 'Til we meet again old friend! 

Anxiety

     Our younger daughter finally got her driver's license after four years of trying. Her anxiety in the past was such that she couldn’t get through a driving test without vomiting, certainly all the way there and sometimes even all the way home. It made taking a test very difficult. Today she was amazing, keeping a perspective on the day and preparing for it in every way that she could. And although it was nerve wracking, she found a way to get through the experience in a positive way. She was willing to see the day as a victory, whether she got her license or not, simply because she was able to keep her nausea at bay. Her diligence paid off and she is now a new driver; independent, responsible and hopefully still managing her anxiety.

     I walked my stress away by prayerfully walking laps around the ICBC licensing building, much to the amusement of some of the people standing in line. These folks were trying to keep cool by staying in the shade and moving around as little as possible while I was doing something completely opposite: tromping around on the sidewalk and in the sun-drenched dust, around and around and around. I got about six thousand steps in the process and found it a rewarding way to spend the half hour or so of waiting. 

     Anyway the afternoon was a triumph for our daughter; her anxiety was managed and the end result was a long overdue ticket to independence. As we made our way home, making plans for a celebratory meal, I couldn't help but notice once again, what a difference a day makes....Thanks Ashu!

Challenger

     Nothing is more edifying and at the same time more sobering than attending a Challenger Baseball Jamboree. Of course there are moments of joy as well.  As a parent I am incredibly grateful for our daughter's experience; an event where teams have congregated from all over the Lower Mainland, Vancouver Island and elsewhere in the province. So many kids, young adults and their parents, coaches and volunteers braved traffic, ferries and other logistical challenges to represent their team, their region and their sport. The energy and enthusiasm of all the teams was wonderful and although the weather was completely different than what was forecast, the day went smoothly. 

     Any day that includes bagpipers, the singing of O Canada and Bob Brown Bear, the Vancouver Canadians baseball mascot is a great day in my book and one liable to move me to tears. While I watched our almost twenty-four year old sing the national anthem with her hand over her heart I considered the bumpy road that led us here. The diagnosis of an intellectual disability in tandem with epilepsy has been a struggle. And it could have been so much more difficult. My only complaint is that we did not know about programs like Challenger Baseball and Special Olympics before she was a teenager. It would have been amazing to build her confidence and expand her social circle when she was a little girl. Now we are so thankful that these programs exist at all and that our daughter can participate in them. As I look around and witness friends pushing others in wheelchairs, parent coaches encouraging players from the pitching mound and high fives that are generously given, COVID or not, I am reminded once again that life is good. The smile on our daughter's face says it all.

Blossom

      One day a little dog with one brown eye and one blue eye decides to go on an adventure. She is visiting and decides to check out the neighbourhood. She darts out of the house between the neighbour's feet and runs as fast as she can around the cul-de-sac out front. It's fun but it doesn't feel like enough of an escapade, so she runs right past the people who are calling her name and trying to catch her and runs to the end of the road. She doesn't stop there and makes a right turn onto another street. She keeps going and runs until she gets to a boulevard and she still doesn't stop.  She makes another right turn and runs past a senior's residence and a hotel and she still keeps running. She goes past a bus stop, past a roundabout, across a bridge over a big highway and then through another roundabout. A lady from the neighbourhood sees the little dog and wonders what she is doing. There are four lanes of traffic on this road and it is four o'clock so it is very busy. There are so many cars and trucks but still she keeps running.  Fortunately everyone slows down for her but they do wonder where she is going. Some of the cars and trucks stop and let the little dog go by. One driver of a big blue semi truck pulls over and waits to see if anyone is looking for her. When she gets to a set of traffic lights two kind people on bicycles stop and ask her where she is going. At this point the little dog is starting to feel a little tired. There is a driving range and a feed lot across the street and so many new things to see!  By this time a lot of people have slowed down and stopped to make sure that she is okay. The little dog decides that she has gone far enough. One of the kind people on a bicycle has a leash. They put the leash on her and a nice man with very blue eyes decides that he will take her to somewhere safe where she can be with other lost pets.

     In the meantime, people are driving around calling the little dog's name. Some of them are friends and some are neighbours but they have no luck until one neighbour in a car finds the lady who saw the little dog at the roundabout. She picks up her mother and they drive down the street, down the boulevard and past the second roundabout. There is no little dog there. While they are there they talk to the man in the big blue semi truck who saw her run towards the feed lot. They drive there but when they don't see the little dog they keep driving until they see a lady pulled over in a pick-up truck. They ask her if she has seen the little dog and she says yes. She says that many, many kind people slowed down and helped the little dog. Angels really. She said that a nice man was taking her someplace safe. This amazing woman had taken the nice man's phone number and gave it to the neighbours who were driving around. They called the nice man and he turned around and came back and gave the little dog to her new friends. By this time she had run a few kilometres and she was feeling quite tired. When she finally got home everyone agreed that it was a miracle that she was found. Everyone was so relieved that she didn't get hurt. Everyone was happy that there were so many nice people out there. The little dog agreed and had a big drink of water and decided that one adventure was enough for now. And her family was glad!

Birds 2

     A pair of chickadees decided that the birdhouse sitting on a low table beside our front door was a perfect place to nest this spring. The birdhouse is purely ornamental (in my mind anyway); I had painted it the same colours as our house and included our house number. Never mind that this is an extremely busy and noisy thoroughfare with humans and dogs going in and out at all hours of the day and night. I should have known that something was up when Stella was poking her nose in the birdhouse opening every time she came in the front door.

     Eventually, I too noticed that things were happening inside this little home; the back and forth flight of chickadees finally made it obvious. I realized that the birdhouse would have to be raised to keep out unwanted intruders. After fretting for about a day or so, I dragged a tall and skinny bookcase outside, put a few small plants on the shelves and prayed that the aspiring parents wouldn't notice that their residence had gone up a few floors.

     They either didn't notice or didn't care and now the sound of baby birds can be heard if you linger momentarily at our front door. I am thrilled of course, chickadees being my favourite and birds in general, a love of mine. To me there is no equal to their grace, beauty and all-around coolness. Anyway this little pair of bird parents made my day, my week, my month. And no, you can't see a bird in this photo--- you just have to take my word for it. They call that faith.

Stress 2

     Stress seems to have been the number one cause of our daughter's breakthrough seizures. Whether it was travelling, holidays, special occasions or just the daily rigors of school, stress seemed to be the most obvious trigger. As she is now over two years seizure free and we are hoping to beat her record, which was three and a half years without an episode, we are all doubling down on the stressors in her life.

     Life is stressful, let's face it. From the moment that we wake up in the morning until we drop exhausted into our beds at night we are battered and bothered by the stresses of life: health, family, work, finances, relationships, transportation, you name it. And while anxiety and other mental health issues are on the rise whether because of the pandemic or the issues of the world in which we live, it is no easy task for any of us to keep our equilibrium. 

     Our daughter does her best to balance work with play, chores with relaxation, the serious with the fun. Church, sports, fun with friends, travel and Stella all go a long way towards keeping that balance. Whatever happens my husband and I try to make sure that she goes to bed with a clean slate. We do our best to keep our daughter free from worry and ready to face another day. And of course, Stella helps us as much as she can! Never underestimate the power of pets to help keep us relaxed and happy....

Congregation

 con·gre·ga·tion

Learn to pronounce

noun

1. 1.

   a group of people assembled for religious worship.

   "the singing of psalms by the whole congregation"

   Similar:

   parishioners

   parish

   churchgoers

   flock

   fold

   faithful

   following

     Our congregation is all of these and more; it is amazing! Our parishioners cheerfully show up every week and are a friendly welcoming parish, excited to meet new folks and happy to share in all that is available to us now. And thanks be to God, it is a lot! We have a smart, energetic new priest with a willing team of church elders who long to see our pews full again and our Children's Chapel ringing with young voices. We are blessed to have a talented, dedicated choir with a knowledgeable and gifted organist. Our deacon, soon to be a priest, is hardworking and vital in our community. We have important and meaningful connections in our town that allow us to minister to the hungry and the unhoused. We have so many possibilities!

     At our Annual Vestry Meeting we were encouraged to come up with BHAGs for our church. Our Big Hairy Audacious Goals were written down and we were charged to "dream and dream big" by our rector, Father Joe. As the first step in our strategic planning process, the goals that we each have for our church are important. Our mission, vision and values as a parish are also key components to our future plans. But the most vital piece as I see it is our flock, our fold, our faithful. I am just beginning to see how impressive this following is and I am looking forward to our future together. My thanks to everyone!

     For more information go to www.holytrinitywhiterock.ca

Thrift

      I have been a fan of thrift stores forever. As a person who tries to be careful with her money as well as someone who enjoys the exotic, the unusual or just a bargain, I am hooked on thrifting. Luckily I live in a community where we enjoy some wonderful thrift stores. In fact whether you begin at Five Corners and work your way up Johnston Road or start at Central Plaza and make your way down Johnston Road you will come across five great thrift stores that are worthy of note.

      Let's start at Central Plaza! This is the home of WorldServe Thrift, a favourite of mine for great prices and an awesome array of furniture. This store whose actual address is 1524 Foster Street has an amazingly upbeat manager. The store is large and has a good selection of everything. There is even the opportunity to bid on their most valuable wares. The staff are mainly volunteers and the net proceeds go to support their mission-driven outreach in a number of countries world wide. 

     Next is the  newest thrift store in the town of White Rock, The Wilder Thrift Store at 1391 Johnston Road. This shop has just opened up and it has huge potential. The manager is a young energetic woman who is friendly and always has time to greet everyone even though she is so busy. There is a marvelous selection of goods and although there is not a great deal of room for furniture, the clothing selection is terrific and there are always treasures to be found. Almost all donations are welcome and the store is open seven days a week at this point.

     Next is The Salvation Army at 1327 Johnston Street. You can't go wrong here. I have picked up some  lovely items here for a very nice price. This is a large store which can only accept donated items at the back door and the staff are busy but helpful if asked. There is always a large array of goods here but my favourite purchases from the Sally Anne, as we like to call it include some wonderful art and collectibles. Also they are open late!

     Then just around the corner at 15163 Prospect Avenue is Superfluity Thrift Store which is run by the Peace Arch Hospital Auxiliary Society. Though not large, there are treasures to be found here and a lovely staff of volunteers who are happy to help. They have a nice ladies clothing boutique upstairs--- the building looks deceptively small and there are vintage finds here. The staff are friendly and they seem to have a lot of volunteers on board.

     And last and certainly not least but definitely smallest is The Living Room Store at 1233 Johnston Road. Though tiny they have tidy and thoughtful displays and carry most everything that would fit in a very small thrift store. This store supports the work and mission of Life Church White Rock here and internationally. The staff are kind and helpful and I can always spot a little something here.

     I would be remiss if I didn't mention my favourite Surrey thrift store, Peace Arch Thrift Store which supports a cause dear to my heart: hospice and palliative care in South Surrey and White Rock. It is a lovely upscale thrift shop with great jewelry, books and clothing. It is located in Surrey at 15562 24th Avenue so it is not close enough to be part of our White Rock Thrift Tour but it definitely should not be missed. Our daughter volunteers here at times and the staff are fun, friendly and good listeners!

     Anyway I recommend this little tour of the White Rock  thrift stores. There is ample free parking and some great spots for coffee and cold drinks along the way. Your body will be better for the exercise and chances are your wallet though lighter, will still have money left in it.

 

Escalation

      Recently I had to deal with a particularly annoying circumstance in which a bank deposit we had made did not appear in our daughter's RDSP for over a month. We had made the mistake of trying to deposit a grant she had received from Endowment 150 through the branch, an error that we will not repeat, I can assure you. Several emails, half a dozen phone calls and the situation was resolved. But it was a month-long process; a month that seemed especially long because of our daughter's daily inquiry about it. One thing I noticed was everyone I wrote to or talked to kept mentioning "escalate" as in "you wish to escalate your concern" or "your matter has been escalated" or "this is an escalation". I found the use of this term very off putting. I looked up the customer service definition and here it is: "In customer service, escalation refers to a situation where a support agent must deal with a frustrated or angry customer who, in turn, wants to get in touch with a senior agent to resolve their issue." sprinklr.com

     To my mind suggesting that someone is frustrated and angry before they actually are frustrated or angry is a good way to ensure that they will indeed become frustrated and angry. I found their use of that term worsened the situation for me. I had been polite but clear about how disappointed we were; that this had lessened our daughter’s trust in them but that all we wanted was the cheque to appear in her account. If they hadn’t lost the document, it was simple really, just post the transaction and be done with it. It was not as easy as you would think!

     I do find that the words we use are so important. Jargon or words or expressions used by a particular profession can be very confusing and do not always lead to clear communication.  And while the words escalate or escalation may seem apt in the world of customer service, I for one don't find them helpful as a customer. Finally, all that matters is that the money is in the bank!

 

Church

     Our daughter received two gifts from the church that she attended while in high school and beyond; one years ago and the other, just last week. One was that it was the place where she found acceptance and friendship at a time when there was not a great deal of that in her life. High school was difficult because of seizures and constantly having an Educational Assistant by her side. The EA was necessary for her safety but her presence seemed to discourage relationships with others. The youth group at WRCC was friendly and inclusive and even when the youth pastors changed the group was one that she counted on. We then went to the church services on Sunday that were also warm and inviting: the music was modern and accessible, the words were projected above and easy to read, dress was casual and the leadership there was, and still is, smart, funny and full of wisdom and humility. Our daughter felt at home there.

     The other is a cheque that she received just days ago as part of the giving of their church congregation to something called a "Benevolent Fund". This is how deserving people in the community are assisted to reach their goals or to improve their situation by means of a monetary gift. I can tell you that I was blown away by the kindness and generosity of this Christmas blessing bestowed upon our eldest daughter. As we have not been attending church there for a while, these folks had not seen our daughter lately but took it upon themselves to let her know that she is missed, appreciated and thought of--- what a kind thing to do--- especially in these times of economic uncertainty for so many!

     I am reminded daily that there are good, kind people out there; some you meet at church and some of them you meet elsewhere. Kindness, the intention to be kind is part of their way of life. The Dalai Lama, the spiritual leader of Tibet, has been quoted as saying: "My religion is kindness." Today our family is reminded that that is true of many others as well--- folks in our very own town. Thank you WRCC!