In the 1950’s my husband, Don was spending his summer working on a survey crew in the Yukon for a company that was studying the sources of the Yukon River for a possible power project.
In 1955 Don asked me to bring our three girls up to Whitehorse as he would be employed all winter this time. He rented a house for us and we flew up to join him early in September. We shipped our possessions by boat to Skagway, Alaska and found out the Longshoremen there were on strike so our things were unavailable for six weeks.
Two of our girls were going to school so I washed their dresses each night and ironed them before breakfast. With the cold weather arriving, they needed leg coverings. The people of Whitehorse were wonderful. They brought children’s clothes, sheets and everything we needed until our own things arrived. The warm winter coats were especially welcome. It was wonderful to be so well outfitted by people we didn’t know.
Ten months later, in June 1956, our fourth little girl arrived. At that time Don was on the crew that were surveying the bottom of the Yukon River, south of town, who would look after my three girls (ages 4, 7 & 9) while I was in hospital? A wonderful neighbor took them in and took good care of them. When I said that I could never repay her, she replied “Don’t try to repay me, but pass on kindness to someone else in need.”
Monday, December 17, 2007
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Elsie's Miracle
While our post-war house was being built in Winnipeg, my husband, Ed, our baby son, Bobby, and I were living in a well-insulated trailer on the property. The somewhat crude method of heating was a make-shift coal burning stove with a pipe sticking out of a large hole, the better to ensure proper ventilation and the risk of carbon monoxide fumes poisoning our space.
Because of crowded quarters, baby Bobby’s bed consisted of a box-like crib, elevated at the foot of our bed. Bobby was not yet two, could not yet walk but could talk very well for one so young.
One night surfacing from a restless sleep, I heard Bobby state in a clear voice, “God doesn’t want me to die”. I had been teaching Sunday school but had not yet taught our son anything religious so I presumed I was dreaming. Startled awake, I crawled to the end of the bed and picked him up. I fairly shook him when he did not respond.
Beginning to panic, I shook Ed awake with my hysterical cry, “Bobby won’t wake up. Wake up, something’s wrong with Bobby!” In a daze, Ed crawled out of bed, only to collapse on a nearby couch. With my continued screaming of, “Wake up, Ed, something’s wrong with Bobby. I can’t waken him.” Finally, Ed stumbled from the couch, lurched against the trailer door and tumbled into a Winnipeg winter snow bank. Though barely able, Ed, had unknowingly allowed a rush of fresh air into the trailer, rushed back into the trailer just in time to save the lives of his family.
I have shared this story with very few over the years, fearing that it would appear just too bizarre for belief. Imagine expecting anyone to believe that an infant not yet able to walk was able, in a life and death situation, to exclaim, “God doesn’t want me to die.”
Because of crowded quarters, baby Bobby’s bed consisted of a box-like crib, elevated at the foot of our bed. Bobby was not yet two, could not yet walk but could talk very well for one so young.
One night surfacing from a restless sleep, I heard Bobby state in a clear voice, “God doesn’t want me to die”. I had been teaching Sunday school but had not yet taught our son anything religious so I presumed I was dreaming. Startled awake, I crawled to the end of the bed and picked him up. I fairly shook him when he did not respond.
Beginning to panic, I shook Ed awake with my hysterical cry, “Bobby won’t wake up. Wake up, something’s wrong with Bobby!” In a daze, Ed crawled out of bed, only to collapse on a nearby couch. With my continued screaming of, “Wake up, Ed, something’s wrong with Bobby. I can’t waken him.” Finally, Ed stumbled from the couch, lurched against the trailer door and tumbled into a Winnipeg winter snow bank. Though barely able, Ed, had unknowingly allowed a rush of fresh air into the trailer, rushed back into the trailer just in time to save the lives of his family.
I have shared this story with very few over the years, fearing that it would appear just too bizarre for belief. Imagine expecting anyone to believe that an infant not yet able to walk was able, in a life and death situation, to exclaim, “God doesn’t want me to die.”
Christmas Tourtiére
Christmas in the village of Rosemére, Quebec, was a time of snow banks and the warmth of family gatherings. My Christmas of 1951 was to be one of desperate loneliness, far removed from family and friends in Western Canada. Even though I spoke French, I was looked upon as “l’englaise” and felt very much the outsider.
Our three year old daughter always looked forward to the arrival of an eleven year old neighbour girl, Lucie, from school so that she would have someone with whom to play.
I, with my two toddlers, too often, perhaps, found myself entering Lucies’s parents house next door as Mme. Picard’s large warm kitchen matched the warmth of the woman herself.
We often visited on Saturday, there to find Mme. Picard baking, in preparation for the arrival of her fourteen children for their Sunday visit. The huge refectory-size table was laden with baked delights of all shapes and sizes, some of which we were invited to taste.
Pre-Christmas baking took on an air of special urgency. One of Mme. Picard’s creations was that of tourtiéres consisting ground pork and spices within a pie crust. It was new to me and looked especially appealing.
Christmas approached, with little or no expectation on our part. Christmas Eve was dreary indeed. So, when Lucie arrived holding a tourtiére, it seemed a miracle and we gave appropriate thanks.
Many, many years later I still, each Christmas, think of the goodness of Mme. Picard who, with her family of fourteen, still found time to think of her lonely neighbour from the West and to include her little family in the spirit of Christmas giving.
Our three year old daughter always looked forward to the arrival of an eleven year old neighbour girl, Lucie, from school so that she would have someone with whom to play.
I, with my two toddlers, too often, perhaps, found myself entering Lucies’s parents house next door as Mme. Picard’s large warm kitchen matched the warmth of the woman herself.
We often visited on Saturday, there to find Mme. Picard baking, in preparation for the arrival of her fourteen children for their Sunday visit. The huge refectory-size table was laden with baked delights of all shapes and sizes, some of which we were invited to taste.
Pre-Christmas baking took on an air of special urgency. One of Mme. Picard’s creations was that of tourtiéres consisting ground pork and spices within a pie crust. It was new to me and looked especially appealing.
Christmas approached, with little or no expectation on our part. Christmas Eve was dreary indeed. So, when Lucie arrived holding a tourtiére, it seemed a miracle and we gave appropriate thanks.
Many, many years later I still, each Christmas, think of the goodness of Mme. Picard who, with her family of fourteen, still found time to think of her lonely neighbour from the West and to include her little family in the spirit of Christmas giving.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Why I Write Kindness on Rocks
On January 1, 2007 I sat at home feeling totally uninspired wondering what I would do this year to make the world a better place. I thought about spreading kindness but that it had to be for no reward. No one could know it was me, there could be no pats on the back, no recognition…. it had to somehow be a pure and selfless act. As my eyes wondered to one of my favorite rocks I got it! Kindness Rocks! For some reason I have always loved rocks, I paint rocks, I decorate rocks, I put them in my garden, I have them in my house, I drag them from beaches, the side of roads, fields, shelves at stores, where ever. I laugh because often my sister and I exchange rocks as presents.
The connection hit me like a "rock"................of course.............literally kindness rocks it is one of the most awesome things in the world to be kind or to receive kindness from another. My 2007 project was born, for one year I would write kindness on rocks, leave them anonymously around the community and see what would happen. I swore myself and my son to secrecy and began the work of writing kindness on beautiful polished rocks that I believed someone might pick up and treasure.
Very quietly I began leaving the rocks at phone booths, by pop machines, on counters, on benches. Anywhere that I felt it would be obvious it was meant to be taken. Often I would leave them on my way in somewhere and they would already be gone by the time I left. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world to know that my kindness rocks just might brighten someone’s day or inspire someone to kindness.
Six weeks later at work, happy in my secret pursuit I began working with a team of youth to develop a video to promote our Pay it forward Comox Valley project. I explained our vision of the project, the concept of pay it forward spreading kindness through the sharing of stories and the ripple effect that would be felt throughout the community.
One week later I sat at my desk in shock as the youth showed me their story board of the video concept. It started with a circle of people passing a small rock with kindness written on it…….every hair on the back of my neck stood up as they explained how the rock would get bigger and bigger until it took everyone in the circle to take it to the waters edge and drop the rock in the water creating a ripple that would go on and on. The final shot would be that of the rock with the word kindness in bright white shining from under the water and the ripples would be seen moving away from the rock.
After picking myself up off of the floor………(not literally), I realized that I could no longer keep my secret, I could no longer keep the joy of spreading my kindness rocks to myself, it is so much bigger than me, I had wanted a totally selfless act but it only become selfless when I shared my kindness rather than when I kept it a secret.
Bev Moquin
Executive Director
CVCISS/ValleyLinks
Home of pay it forward Comox Valley
The connection hit me like a "rock"................of course.............literally kindness rocks it is one of the most awesome things in the world to be kind or to receive kindness from another. My 2007 project was born, for one year I would write kindness on rocks, leave them anonymously around the community and see what would happen. I swore myself and my son to secrecy and began the work of writing kindness on beautiful polished rocks that I believed someone might pick up and treasure.
Very quietly I began leaving the rocks at phone booths, by pop machines, on counters, on benches. Anywhere that I felt it would be obvious it was meant to be taken. Often I would leave them on my way in somewhere and they would already be gone by the time I left. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world to know that my kindness rocks just might brighten someone’s day or inspire someone to kindness.
Six weeks later at work, happy in my secret pursuit I began working with a team of youth to develop a video to promote our Pay it forward Comox Valley project. I explained our vision of the project, the concept of pay it forward spreading kindness through the sharing of stories and the ripple effect that would be felt throughout the community.
One week later I sat at my desk in shock as the youth showed me their story board of the video concept. It started with a circle of people passing a small rock with kindness written on it…….every hair on the back of my neck stood up as they explained how the rock would get bigger and bigger until it took everyone in the circle to take it to the waters edge and drop the rock in the water creating a ripple that would go on and on. The final shot would be that of the rock with the word kindness in bright white shining from under the water and the ripples would be seen moving away from the rock.
After picking myself up off of the floor………(not literally), I realized that I could no longer keep my secret, I could no longer keep the joy of spreading my kindness rocks to myself, it is so much bigger than me, I had wanted a totally selfless act but it only become selfless when I shared my kindness rather than when I kept it a secret.
Bev Moquin
Executive Director
CVCISS/ValleyLinks
Home of pay it forward Comox Valley
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Gift of Time
When my daughter moved to another city to start university studies, I worried about her feeling disconnected and lonely. We called each other by phone, sent email messages back and forth and visited as often as was possible, nevertheless, I always worried that she might need something sometime and I wouldn’t know it. One day she called me to say how excited she was to have had a surprise visit that day from a couple from her home town who knew she was at the university and just thought they’d like to see how she was doing. That small gift of time and caring buoyed my daughter’s spirits for a long time. Years later now, she still speaks of how much she appreciated that small connection to “home”. Thank you to those who share the kindness of their time with others. You never know when your gift will be needed.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Sweetheart Smile
I was dining out in Vietnam with my family. This ragged boy watched; he looked like he was 7. Some people in the restaurant either avoided eye contact with him, or shooed him away as if he was “just a dirty street boy.”
Finally, I stepped up. I offered the boy food but he declined it and inched away. Then he peeked over again from around the corner. I had intentions on handing these Canadian pins to younger relatives, but instead, I handed him one. I finally saw this sweetheart smile and his face glowed. After our meal, he followed us to the taxi and waved good-bye.
Later on, I was walking towards the beach. “Hey!”
I looked on my side and there was that adorable boy! He excitedly chatted with me. I learnt that this 7 year old boy was not 7, but he was 12! He was a very petite boy.
Another day, I was swimming, and guess who showed up. “I was the boy you handed the pin to! Remember?”
“Of course I remember!” I introduced my (younger) siblings to him. I explained to them how we met.
I was with my siblings at the park, and there he was again! He helped me pack them around and looked after one while I watched the other. He wasn’t shy anymore. He was the sweetest boy with full potential who never seemed to have been given the chance. I felt amazing knowing I made a difference in somebody’s life.
I hope that my siblings learnt from my actions and realize not to be ignorant, and stick up for those who are different.
Finally, I stepped up. I offered the boy food but he declined it and inched away. Then he peeked over again from around the corner. I had intentions on handing these Canadian pins to younger relatives, but instead, I handed him one. I finally saw this sweetheart smile and his face glowed. After our meal, he followed us to the taxi and waved good-bye.
Later on, I was walking towards the beach. “Hey!”
I looked on my side and there was that adorable boy! He excitedly chatted with me. I learnt that this 7 year old boy was not 7, but he was 12! He was a very petite boy.
Another day, I was swimming, and guess who showed up. “I was the boy you handed the pin to! Remember?”
“Of course I remember!” I introduced my (younger) siblings to him. I explained to them how we met.
I was with my siblings at the park, and there he was again! He helped me pack them around and looked after one while I watched the other. He wasn’t shy anymore. He was the sweetest boy with full potential who never seemed to have been given the chance. I felt amazing knowing I made a difference in somebody’s life.
I hope that my siblings learnt from my actions and realize not to be ignorant, and stick up for those who are different.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Thank you is just not big enough ...
I’d like to let the world know about the kindness of two people that have played a very important part in my life and in the life of someone very special to me, for a little more than 18 years now. The funny thing is that I never knew them until I met them a few weeks ago. The very special person I mention … I just met her a few weeks ago too. This special girl is my daughter and the two people are her parents … her adoptive parents.
I was 15 years old. Just a little girl still, but old enough to know that I was not old enough to give my precious baby the life I wanted for her. I explained all this in a letter to the adoptive parents, along with the fact that I have a teddy bear that is identical to the one that went home with their new baby. I told them I’d keep this bear forever in the hopes that one day she and I would be reunited. They never hid this from her. In fact they gave her the letter I wrote for them.
It turns out that she has always had an interest in one day meeting me. Her parents have always been very open with her and supported her interest. They have been very open to meeting me and have welcomed me into their family.
For years I wondered … would she know? Would she understand? Would she want to know me? They could have told her anything they wanted. They could have hidden the letter. Could have kept it a secret about the teddy bear. Could have kept their daughter to themselves. Their openness and honesty is because they love her very much. But it’s not just love, but also an amazing and genuine kindness that they have shown her. And I see it as an amazing and genuine kindness they’ve shown me as well. I will never forget it and will be forever thankful for this very unselfish kindness.
To K.E.C.: I love you, I always have. To her parents: I thank you with all my heart and soul.
I was 15 years old. Just a little girl still, but old enough to know that I was not old enough to give my precious baby the life I wanted for her. I explained all this in a letter to the adoptive parents, along with the fact that I have a teddy bear that is identical to the one that went home with their new baby. I told them I’d keep this bear forever in the hopes that one day she and I would be reunited. They never hid this from her. In fact they gave her the letter I wrote for them.
It turns out that she has always had an interest in one day meeting me. Her parents have always been very open with her and supported her interest. They have been very open to meeting me and have welcomed me into their family.
For years I wondered … would she know? Would she understand? Would she want to know me? They could have told her anything they wanted. They could have hidden the letter. Could have kept it a secret about the teddy bear. Could have kept their daughter to themselves. Their openness and honesty is because they love her very much. But it’s not just love, but also an amazing and genuine kindness that they have shown her. And I see it as an amazing and genuine kindness they’ve shown me as well. I will never forget it and will be forever thankful for this very unselfish kindness.
To K.E.C.: I love you, I always have. To her parents: I thank you with all my heart and soul.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
An Experience that Will Stick
The first Komox Brownies from the Comox Valley and the first Wellington Brownies from Nanaimo participated recently in Hands Across the Border at the Peace Arch Border Crossing.
We thought we would go a day early and take the girls to Playland, so we arranged bus service with Cardinal Bus Lines to take us to all of our prearranged locations. All 47 of us arrived at playland at 11 am. just as the gates opened for the day. The plan was to play until 5 pm then have dinner at the White Spot in Playland. Our bus was to come back at 7pm. Although it was pouring rain we really didn't count on Playland having to close due to weather. But at 3pm, Playland closed for the day.
Starting at about 1pm a Brownie Leader and a Playland manager made many attemps in vain to contact Cardinal Bus Lines to come back and pick us up early. Slight panic began to set in as we wondered what were were going to do for 4 hours in the pouring rain with 35 eight year old girls.
This is where the Playland staff far exceeded our wildest expectations.
At 3 pm once the park closed, they honoured the package deal and fed all of us White Spot.
After finishing our meal (with 3 hours left to wait for the bus) the manager and her staff decided to open up six of the carnival-type games to our group. They split the group in to teams, showed everyone how to play the games, let them practice, then led everyone through a very organized tournament. The staff ran each game with more enthusiasm than I have ever seen and made all of us forget that we were stranded in the pouring rain.
From the beginning the girls were told that this was for fun and no prizes were going to be given out. In the end they surprised everyone yet again by giving the overall winner a large stuffed toy, the team with the most points a medium stuffed toy and everyone else got a small stuffed toy. Everyone was more than thrilled.
With an hour to go they took all of us back in to the White Spot where they had made hot chocolate and coffee. At 7pm our bus arrived and we all left Playland soaking wet, tired and very, very happy.
A very large part of Brownies is to teach the girls about kindness, caring for others and caring for the community around you.
The staff at Playland not only saved a group from being out in the pouring rain; they showed our Brownies first hand how it feels when someone steps up and helps out. These girls often give this gift to others and rearly recieve it in return. This was an experience that will stick with them forever.
We thought we would go a day early and take the girls to Playland, so we arranged bus service with Cardinal Bus Lines to take us to all of our prearranged locations. All 47 of us arrived at playland at 11 am. just as the gates opened for the day. The plan was to play until 5 pm then have dinner at the White Spot in Playland. Our bus was to come back at 7pm. Although it was pouring rain we really didn't count on Playland having to close due to weather. But at 3pm, Playland closed for the day.
Starting at about 1pm a Brownie Leader and a Playland manager made many attemps in vain to contact Cardinal Bus Lines to come back and pick us up early. Slight panic began to set in as we wondered what were were going to do for 4 hours in the pouring rain with 35 eight year old girls.
This is where the Playland staff far exceeded our wildest expectations.
At 3 pm once the park closed, they honoured the package deal and fed all of us White Spot.
After finishing our meal (with 3 hours left to wait for the bus) the manager and her staff decided to open up six of the carnival-type games to our group. They split the group in to teams, showed everyone how to play the games, let them practice, then led everyone through a very organized tournament. The staff ran each game with more enthusiasm than I have ever seen and made all of us forget that we were stranded in the pouring rain.
From the beginning the girls were told that this was for fun and no prizes were going to be given out. In the end they surprised everyone yet again by giving the overall winner a large stuffed toy, the team with the most points a medium stuffed toy and everyone else got a small stuffed toy. Everyone was more than thrilled.
With an hour to go they took all of us back in to the White Spot where they had made hot chocolate and coffee. At 7pm our bus arrived and we all left Playland soaking wet, tired and very, very happy.
A very large part of Brownies is to teach the girls about kindness, caring for others and caring for the community around you.
The staff at Playland not only saved a group from being out in the pouring rain; they showed our Brownies first hand how it feels when someone steps up and helps out. These girls often give this gift to others and rearly recieve it in return. This was an experience that will stick with them forever.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Food for Thought
"What we do for ourselves dies with us, what we do for others lives on forever"
...John
...John
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Are You a Teacher?
Very unexpectedly, many years ago, while I was on a bus on my way home after work, I was facing a set of lovely, wide open sparkling hazel eyes.
Those eyes were the inquisitive eyes of a little girl six to eight years of age. She was with her mother.
As I rose from my seat to leave and proceeded towards the door, she starred very intently and said to me, “are you a teacher?”. I smiled and replied, “No, I am not”. I looked into her eyes and my thoughts were…, “we are all teachers”.
I felt a warmth and tenderness from her question and I knew that she felt my warmth that I shared through my smile. As she smiled back and snuggled in her seat, her eyes followed me when I embarked through the front door, and passed by her window as the bus pulled away.
We both waved ‘bye and I felt so very good.
My childhood years were not happy years. I am one of ten children born into a poor family. My father was an alcoholic and he brutally beat my mother. His verbal abuse still haunts me.
I was about eight years old when my two older sisters left our Alberta farm and went to the Okanagan to pick fruit so they could earn some money. My parent’s farm was not a very productive farm.
My brothers also left home to work in BC, partly to earn money, but now that I’m older I’m sure they left to get away form our dysfunctional family.
When my sisters returned after the fruit harvesting, they brought me a gold ring with my birthstone for my skinny finger.
To-day, some sixty years later, I can still feel the warmth, the inner glow of being remembered. It was so special. I was special enough to be in their thoughts! Special enough to be in their hearts!
This was the first time I felt this way.
My mother had her own problems to contend with, and she had a drunk to deal with, so how could she remember to love me?
I put the ring on my finger and my heart cracked! We didn’t hug or kiss with thanks because we didn’t know how.
I ran outside into the yard and held my hands clasped with joy! I was deliriously happy. I hugged a tree with one arm and swung around and around and around! I dropped dizzy! I was completely breathless!
After a week of steady rain, the slough at the back of the house was filled to it’s brim, so to speak.
We used the water from this slough to was our clothes. It was our water source for watering the garden and to bath with. One morning, I waded into that slough. I often spent my days there trying to catch tadpoles and frogs.
The weeds looked tall and beautiful. The reflections of the trees were beautiful too. The sounds of the frogs and birds calmed my heart and the peace and tranquility helped me to forget the abuse.
It was my sanctuary.
I waded further into that slough and the water was much deeper, almost reaching my hips. For an eight year old that was deep!
I reached down to pull out a flowering weed. My thought was… “Hummmmmm…..if I can get the root, I can plant it and have a flower bed by the house”. I did not know what kind of a flower it was, whether it was a weed, hay, or grass was only to guess, as not one ever explained anything like that to me. To ask was to be told to shut up and to be ignored.
As I pulled on the weed, I looked to see if I had the roots. O yes! I had the roots. But I lost the ring!
It slipped off my finger and it was gone!
The depth of the water rose from the stream of my tears and became murky. I could not see the bottom. The ripples from the pulling of the root stirred it and I couldn’t see a thing. All I saw was dirty black water! I stood and cried and cried and cried some more. My heart cracked again. It not only cracked but it broke! My beautiful sapphire ring was gone! I lost it. How could I be so stupid? Why didn’t I take it off? Why did I need that weed? What would my father do to me now? What would my sisters do to me now? O course, I knew. They would all hate me forever. This is how it was in our house. A murky life like the dirty water! The loss of the ring was one emotion to deal with, but the guilt was a bigger issue by far. It was killing me. I ran out of tears. I had to find that ring! There was no way out. I did not dare move! I did not want to cloud the water even more.
“The ring has to be there”, I said to myself.
I waited for hours until the water was clear and I searched and searched not daring to take a step.
No ring!
It must have sunk into the muddy bottom or maybe it fell into the “hole” where I pulled the root.
I crouched down and focused my eyes on that spot. Nothing!
The tadpoles swam and wiggled around my ankles and my knees. I did not move.
“Surely the frogs don’t eat rings”.
The robins sang in the trees and the meadowlark made me cry again.
I must find it. I must”.
It was sunset and no one missed me. Evening shadows were falling on the slough. The thought of darkness scared me. I starred more.
I stood up to stretch my back and to wipe my eyes. The mosquitoes were sucking me dry.
“I will not leave”. The quietness overwhelmed me again and it became darker. More tears and more guilt made it impossible to see. Even the sunset rays scared me as they mingled with the evening shadows. My tears were drowning me, but I managed to crouch down so low that my nose touched the slough. Inch by inch, I twisted from side to side and back again making a complete circle, focusing out as far as I could see. No ring. The weight of the guilt became too heavy, and I though I died. I lost hope. “I have to. I have to”. Shaking and trembling, I focused on a ray of sunshine about a foot away to my left and…… there it was. There was my ring on the bottom of the slough surrounded by tadpoles and weeds.
Today, I remember this experience as a lesson in determination. This determination is a gift and I still recognize it as such. It gives me self-worth. The determination to survive, determination not to fail and determination against all odds. The dictionary defines determination as…stubborn, resolve, give aim, purpose or direction.
It is a quality of being earnest and decided, firmness, decisive force or power. This determination carried me through my teenage years and into excelling at school.
Years later, we left the farm and moved to a small town. I was in grade seven and I was super smart. My sister was in grade eight and in the same classroom, as was common in that day and era. One teacher taught both classes, shifting from one to the other.
Whenever the male teacher did oral question and answer periods with the grade eight class, I’d answer every question before anyone even raised their hand. I never raised my hand. I was totally out of line. I was very rude to say the least. I answered every question proving to be better and smarter…..always.
My sister often said to me, “you’d better shut up or you’ll get into trouble”. Well, she was wrong. I was never disciplined and I continued to speak out of turn and out of line. Mr. Teacher was very serene and he smiled a lot. He often clasped his hands and I still see his warm glances.
I had no friends and I was so lonely. Crying put me to sleep every night. I couldn’t understand why no one liked me. No one at home liked me either and my sister was embarrassed. The warm smile of Mr. Teacher was my only comfort. I continued to interrupt the class all year. Mr. Teacher never asked me to stop. He never indicated that I was out of line or that I was disruptive.
He watched and smiled.
When the school year ended and the report cards were handed out, everyone got theirs first and I was the last to be called. My heart was broken and once again I knew that no one cared, as usual. I held back my tears and finally I walked up to the front of the class to accept my report card. I was so scared I though I’d wet my pants. Instead of handing me my report card, Mr. Teacher stood and smiled, saying to the class, “I have a special announcement for all. Donna, (as I was called back then) has proven to be exceptionally able to skip grade eight. She will be entering grade nine in September. Congratulations Donna and good luck”. He clapped his hands and smiled even harder than I’d ever seen him smile before. The whole class room clapped too. Mr. Teacher’s smile was like that ray of sunshine that helped me find my ring so many years before! A guiding light! Because Mr. Teacher recognized my potential as capacity for accomplishment, I knew that it would be possible for me to have a good opinion of myself. Today I refer to this as self esteem. I thank God for Mr. Teacher. He gave me courage and I excelled in grade nine and I was the runner up for the Governor Generals award. At the end of grade nine my high school principal allowed me to enter grade eleven. I sailed through school and I was some one for the first time in my life. These teachers believed in me. From them I acquired a quality of mind which meets opposition with calmness and firmness. This is referred to as “courage”.
I define happiness as enjoyment and giving, or indicating pleasure. Along with this happiness comes complete gratification or satisfaction.
To be happy primarily refers to something that comes “by good hap”, a chance that brings benefit or success. Happiness is a grace of blessedness that spreads out form your centre and radiates as a light from the sun! In my mind, I hold a Regal Portrait of Mr. Teacher. Those memories of kindness carry me through my life to day and will for the rest of my life. I have been inspired to believe in dreams. Some of my dreams are simple pleasures such as having my grandchildren teach me to roller blade at age 65. They inspire me when they say to me, “I love you a lot Gramma”.
My passion is to help children. They are of special interest to me. I want to give to them what my teachers gave me, and that is….trust, inspiration, guidance and happiness.
Like that little girl on the bus, I look children in their eyes. I smile and I hope that I radiate warmth. Subconsciously, I am drawn to children and extend friendship, peace and self worth by my actions. When I talk to them I smile into their eyes, just as Mr. Teacher did. I listen to their questions and I bend down to their level. I know there is an answer to everything!
I do this in grocery stores, at bus stops and on the street, everywhere I can. I hope I am the booster shot of strength and determination and courage as it is needed.
Are you a teacher?
Those eyes were the inquisitive eyes of a little girl six to eight years of age. She was with her mother.
As I rose from my seat to leave and proceeded towards the door, she starred very intently and said to me, “are you a teacher?”. I smiled and replied, “No, I am not”. I looked into her eyes and my thoughts were…, “we are all teachers”.
I felt a warmth and tenderness from her question and I knew that she felt my warmth that I shared through my smile. As she smiled back and snuggled in her seat, her eyes followed me when I embarked through the front door, and passed by her window as the bus pulled away.
We both waved ‘bye and I felt so very good.
My childhood years were not happy years. I am one of ten children born into a poor family. My father was an alcoholic and he brutally beat my mother. His verbal abuse still haunts me.
I was about eight years old when my two older sisters left our Alberta farm and went to the Okanagan to pick fruit so they could earn some money. My parent’s farm was not a very productive farm.
My brothers also left home to work in BC, partly to earn money, but now that I’m older I’m sure they left to get away form our dysfunctional family.
When my sisters returned after the fruit harvesting, they brought me a gold ring with my birthstone for my skinny finger.
To-day, some sixty years later, I can still feel the warmth, the inner glow of being remembered. It was so special. I was special enough to be in their thoughts! Special enough to be in their hearts!
This was the first time I felt this way.
My mother had her own problems to contend with, and she had a drunk to deal with, so how could she remember to love me?
I put the ring on my finger and my heart cracked! We didn’t hug or kiss with thanks because we didn’t know how.
I ran outside into the yard and held my hands clasped with joy! I was deliriously happy. I hugged a tree with one arm and swung around and around and around! I dropped dizzy! I was completely breathless!
After a week of steady rain, the slough at the back of the house was filled to it’s brim, so to speak.
We used the water from this slough to was our clothes. It was our water source for watering the garden and to bath with. One morning, I waded into that slough. I often spent my days there trying to catch tadpoles and frogs.
The weeds looked tall and beautiful. The reflections of the trees were beautiful too. The sounds of the frogs and birds calmed my heart and the peace and tranquility helped me to forget the abuse.
It was my sanctuary.
I waded further into that slough and the water was much deeper, almost reaching my hips. For an eight year old that was deep!
I reached down to pull out a flowering weed. My thought was… “Hummmmmm…..if I can get the root, I can plant it and have a flower bed by the house”. I did not know what kind of a flower it was, whether it was a weed, hay, or grass was only to guess, as not one ever explained anything like that to me. To ask was to be told to shut up and to be ignored.
As I pulled on the weed, I looked to see if I had the roots. O yes! I had the roots. But I lost the ring!
It slipped off my finger and it was gone!
The depth of the water rose from the stream of my tears and became murky. I could not see the bottom. The ripples from the pulling of the root stirred it and I couldn’t see a thing. All I saw was dirty black water! I stood and cried and cried and cried some more. My heart cracked again. It not only cracked but it broke! My beautiful sapphire ring was gone! I lost it. How could I be so stupid? Why didn’t I take it off? Why did I need that weed? What would my father do to me now? What would my sisters do to me now? O course, I knew. They would all hate me forever. This is how it was in our house. A murky life like the dirty water! The loss of the ring was one emotion to deal with, but the guilt was a bigger issue by far. It was killing me. I ran out of tears. I had to find that ring! There was no way out. I did not dare move! I did not want to cloud the water even more.
“The ring has to be there”, I said to myself.
I waited for hours until the water was clear and I searched and searched not daring to take a step.
No ring!
It must have sunk into the muddy bottom or maybe it fell into the “hole” where I pulled the root.
I crouched down and focused my eyes on that spot. Nothing!
The tadpoles swam and wiggled around my ankles and my knees. I did not move.
“Surely the frogs don’t eat rings”.
The robins sang in the trees and the meadowlark made me cry again.
I must find it. I must”.
It was sunset and no one missed me. Evening shadows were falling on the slough. The thought of darkness scared me. I starred more.
I stood up to stretch my back and to wipe my eyes. The mosquitoes were sucking me dry.
“I will not leave”. The quietness overwhelmed me again and it became darker. More tears and more guilt made it impossible to see. Even the sunset rays scared me as they mingled with the evening shadows. My tears were drowning me, but I managed to crouch down so low that my nose touched the slough. Inch by inch, I twisted from side to side and back again making a complete circle, focusing out as far as I could see. No ring. The weight of the guilt became too heavy, and I though I died. I lost hope. “I have to. I have to”. Shaking and trembling, I focused on a ray of sunshine about a foot away to my left and…… there it was. There was my ring on the bottom of the slough surrounded by tadpoles and weeds.
Today, I remember this experience as a lesson in determination. This determination is a gift and I still recognize it as such. It gives me self-worth. The determination to survive, determination not to fail and determination against all odds. The dictionary defines determination as…stubborn, resolve, give aim, purpose or direction.
It is a quality of being earnest and decided, firmness, decisive force or power. This determination carried me through my teenage years and into excelling at school.
Years later, we left the farm and moved to a small town. I was in grade seven and I was super smart. My sister was in grade eight and in the same classroom, as was common in that day and era. One teacher taught both classes, shifting from one to the other.
Whenever the male teacher did oral question and answer periods with the grade eight class, I’d answer every question before anyone even raised their hand. I never raised my hand. I was totally out of line. I was very rude to say the least. I answered every question proving to be better and smarter…..always.
My sister often said to me, “you’d better shut up or you’ll get into trouble”. Well, she was wrong. I was never disciplined and I continued to speak out of turn and out of line. Mr. Teacher was very serene and he smiled a lot. He often clasped his hands and I still see his warm glances.
I had no friends and I was so lonely. Crying put me to sleep every night. I couldn’t understand why no one liked me. No one at home liked me either and my sister was embarrassed. The warm smile of Mr. Teacher was my only comfort. I continued to interrupt the class all year. Mr. Teacher never asked me to stop. He never indicated that I was out of line or that I was disruptive.
He watched and smiled.
When the school year ended and the report cards were handed out, everyone got theirs first and I was the last to be called. My heart was broken and once again I knew that no one cared, as usual. I held back my tears and finally I walked up to the front of the class to accept my report card. I was so scared I though I’d wet my pants. Instead of handing me my report card, Mr. Teacher stood and smiled, saying to the class, “I have a special announcement for all. Donna, (as I was called back then) has proven to be exceptionally able to skip grade eight. She will be entering grade nine in September. Congratulations Donna and good luck”. He clapped his hands and smiled even harder than I’d ever seen him smile before. The whole class room clapped too. Mr. Teacher’s smile was like that ray of sunshine that helped me find my ring so many years before! A guiding light! Because Mr. Teacher recognized my potential as capacity for accomplishment, I knew that it would be possible for me to have a good opinion of myself. Today I refer to this as self esteem. I thank God for Mr. Teacher. He gave me courage and I excelled in grade nine and I was the runner up for the Governor Generals award. At the end of grade nine my high school principal allowed me to enter grade eleven. I sailed through school and I was some one for the first time in my life. These teachers believed in me. From them I acquired a quality of mind which meets opposition with calmness and firmness. This is referred to as “courage”.
I define happiness as enjoyment and giving, or indicating pleasure. Along with this happiness comes complete gratification or satisfaction.
To be happy primarily refers to something that comes “by good hap”, a chance that brings benefit or success. Happiness is a grace of blessedness that spreads out form your centre and radiates as a light from the sun! In my mind, I hold a Regal Portrait of Mr. Teacher. Those memories of kindness carry me through my life to day and will for the rest of my life. I have been inspired to believe in dreams. Some of my dreams are simple pleasures such as having my grandchildren teach me to roller blade at age 65. They inspire me when they say to me, “I love you a lot Gramma”.
My passion is to help children. They are of special interest to me. I want to give to them what my teachers gave me, and that is….trust, inspiration, guidance and happiness.
Like that little girl on the bus, I look children in their eyes. I smile and I hope that I radiate warmth. Subconsciously, I am drawn to children and extend friendship, peace and self worth by my actions. When I talk to them I smile into their eyes, just as Mr. Teacher did. I listen to their questions and I bend down to their level. I know there is an answer to everything!
I do this in grocery stores, at bus stops and on the street, everywhere I can. I hope I am the booster shot of strength and determination and courage as it is needed.
Are you a teacher?
Overwhelmed by Kindness
On the morning of Wednesday, November 29, 2006 I awoke to the sound of the snowplow. I looked out my window and resigned myself that I wasn’t going anywhere that day as the end of my driveway was blocked by 3 feet of snow and ice. I called the staff and clients, saying we would close for the day.
Within an hour I received a call from an employee of our Society who had been called by a tenant in our building. She reported smoke coming from our offices and that the fire department had been called.
I engaged in a little pacing and hand wringing for the next hour until my employee on site phoned. “The fire marshall says there is no structural damage that he can see” she reported and I had a small sigh of relief.
When I finally dug out and arrived at the Center, I opened the door and was assaulted by a most horrible, pungent smell. The front part of our offices looked ok but as I moved into our back room ( a large space of 1200 square feet with a 20 foot high ceiling) I could barely make out any features of the room. Every inch was black – covered by oily, sooty goo.
Equipment for physio-therapy, a wheelchair, three hospital beds, a garden swing, tables, stacking chairs, a couch and chair, desks, office chairs, sheets, pillows, blankets, computer, printer, scanner, stereo equipment, TV, music CDs, and thousands of dollars of art equipment and supplies rendered useless by a small fire. The smoke had found its way to lick every surface – even out the front door.
We were at a loss as to how to start but remembered that the CRA might have some space in Lewis Park for us to use during the day. We salvaged a few supplies and moved in for the month. We were extremely glad to have a warm and comfortable space during the storms of December.
At the end of the first week of January we moved again to a space in our original building – a large square box of a room with nothing in it. We quickly devised a plan to make is useable. A visit to “Habitat for Humanity’s ReStore” resulted in a donation of a double stainless steel sink, faucet and countertop and, using the talent of a volunteer carpenter, we built a kitchen.
Several individuals heard that we had had the fire and had been “smoked” out. They graciously offered their assistance and it was suggested that I make a list of necessary items. And I did….
So thank you Adda Vallavand and thank you – the citizens of the Comox Valley. We have now returned to our previous facility – new paint, new floors and our sincere appreciation of the people of the Comox Valley. As of today we have more furniture, equipment and supplies than we had before the fire.
A special thanks to Jim Stevensen, CRA, the Royston Bridge Club, Valley Links, the Old Age Pensioners of Black Creek, the Comox Presbyterian Church members, Compusave, Opportunities Job Center, Comox Valley Insurancentre, Bridges Contracting, Habitat for Humanity, and to dozens of you who stopped in with a donation or two. We are overwhelmed by your kindness. It is truly a blessing.
Yours truly,
The Board of Directors
Comox Valley Metanoia Society
Deborah Nelson
Program Coordinator
The Comox Valley Metanoia Society is a non-profit organization established in 1987. The mandate of the Society is to provide support that promotes the health and welfare of persons with physical and developmental disabilities. With funding from Community Living BC, the Comox Valley Metanoia Society provides Day Program support to individuals who require intensive support to participate in the activities of daily living.
The Society also provides the community of adults with developmental disabilities the opportunity to participate in a variety of arts activities. These activities include drawing and painting, sculpture, paper and fabric crafts, music, drama, and story telling. A group of artists work cooperatively to manufacture greeting cards. The proceeds of all sales are shared by the participants. The program Is supported by the Comox Valley Association for Mentally Handicapped People, volunteer assistants and local business with no cost to the artists.
Metanoia maintains, insures and schedules a 14 passenger, lift equipped bus donated by the Lion’s Society of BC. This vehicle is available to “borrow” by other community agencies.
The offices and Day Program Center are located at 1-1491 McPhee, Courtenay.
Within an hour I received a call from an employee of our Society who had been called by a tenant in our building. She reported smoke coming from our offices and that the fire department had been called.
I engaged in a little pacing and hand wringing for the next hour until my employee on site phoned. “The fire marshall says there is no structural damage that he can see” she reported and I had a small sigh of relief.
When I finally dug out and arrived at the Center, I opened the door and was assaulted by a most horrible, pungent smell. The front part of our offices looked ok but as I moved into our back room ( a large space of 1200 square feet with a 20 foot high ceiling) I could barely make out any features of the room. Every inch was black – covered by oily, sooty goo.
Equipment for physio-therapy, a wheelchair, three hospital beds, a garden swing, tables, stacking chairs, a couch and chair, desks, office chairs, sheets, pillows, blankets, computer, printer, scanner, stereo equipment, TV, music CDs, and thousands of dollars of art equipment and supplies rendered useless by a small fire. The smoke had found its way to lick every surface – even out the front door.
We were at a loss as to how to start but remembered that the CRA might have some space in Lewis Park for us to use during the day. We salvaged a few supplies and moved in for the month. We were extremely glad to have a warm and comfortable space during the storms of December.
At the end of the first week of January we moved again to a space in our original building – a large square box of a room with nothing in it. We quickly devised a plan to make is useable. A visit to “Habitat for Humanity’s ReStore” resulted in a donation of a double stainless steel sink, faucet and countertop and, using the talent of a volunteer carpenter, we built a kitchen.
Several individuals heard that we had had the fire and had been “smoked” out. They graciously offered their assistance and it was suggested that I make a list of necessary items. And I did….
So thank you Adda Vallavand and thank you – the citizens of the Comox Valley. We have now returned to our previous facility – new paint, new floors and our sincere appreciation of the people of the Comox Valley. As of today we have more furniture, equipment and supplies than we had before the fire.
A special thanks to Jim Stevensen, CRA, the Royston Bridge Club, Valley Links, the Old Age Pensioners of Black Creek, the Comox Presbyterian Church members, Compusave, Opportunities Job Center, Comox Valley Insurancentre, Bridges Contracting, Habitat for Humanity, and to dozens of you who stopped in with a donation or two. We are overwhelmed by your kindness. It is truly a blessing.
Yours truly,
The Board of Directors
Comox Valley Metanoia Society
Deborah Nelson
Program Coordinator
The Comox Valley Metanoia Society is a non-profit organization established in 1987. The mandate of the Society is to provide support that promotes the health and welfare of persons with physical and developmental disabilities. With funding from Community Living BC, the Comox Valley Metanoia Society provides Day Program support to individuals who require intensive support to participate in the activities of daily living.
The Society also provides the community of adults with developmental disabilities the opportunity to participate in a variety of arts activities. These activities include drawing and painting, sculpture, paper and fabric crafts, music, drama, and story telling. A group of artists work cooperatively to manufacture greeting cards. The proceeds of all sales are shared by the participants. The program Is supported by the Comox Valley Association for Mentally Handicapped People, volunteer assistants and local business with no cost to the artists.
Metanoia maintains, insures and schedules a 14 passenger, lift equipped bus donated by the Lion’s Society of BC. This vehicle is available to “borrow” by other community agencies.
The offices and Day Program Center are located at 1-1491 McPhee, Courtenay.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Kids are Kind Too!
As the school year came to an end, I felt compelled to share a story about a very, very proud moment I recently experienced.
As a parent of an “only” child with a husband working away a lot of the time I am sometimes challenged with trying to raise a happy, confident, kind and caring lil’ individual. With the pull of many responsibilities of day to day life, we try not to spoil this “only”, a difficult task especially when she pops those big baby blues at us!
Awhile ago, she began telling me a story about an incident that happened at school a few weeks earlier. I am always amused at how things just come up out of the blue long after they have happened. “Mommy,” she began, “ a Duty (a teacher assigned to recess duty) told me I was very kind, because when I was playing with Suzy and Katy came over to play with us, Suzy told her she couldn’t play with us! I told Suzy, “Yes, Katy can play with us!” Suzy said, “No she can’t this is a three person game,” …and I said, “So, come on Katy you can play with us and she did!”
Now, I know Suzy is a whole year older than my daughter and considered one of the “cool” kids by the others and of course especially by herself! Katy, however, has taken some time to adjust can be a little mean at times. It may be difficult for her being that she is the only one that wears glasses not to mention that she towers over all of the other kids in her class. I think it has be a struggle to find her way and fit in with her peers.
I can’t express my feeling of absolute joy and pride that our precious “only” child actually “got it”! That she was confident enough in herself to stand-up to an older girl whom she greatly admired to defend another child. That this sweet, at times spoiled, little girl understands the importance of being a friend and recognizes that everyone has feelings and deserves to be treated with kindness!
I gave her a big hug and said, “I am sooooo proud of you! How did that make you feel?” She excitedly told me that not only did the Duty compliment her by telling her, “That was very kind of you.”, but the Duty then told her teacher who complimented her as well. “I felt proud and happy mom!” she smiled at me.
At that moment I can tell you not only did I well up with a few tears of pride, but the feeling of humbleness that I experienced at that moment is something I will never forget! For my daughter to experience the feeling that comes from “giving from the heart” is truly an invaluable life lesson. At that moment I wasn’t there to guide her, at that moment she made a choice, on her own, even at the cost of facing adversity! Truly my proudest moment yet!
One thing I know for sure, I will have many more such moments to come and am so very blessed to have such a wonderful, giving little spirit in my life.
(Names have been changed to protect the innocent)
Anonymous
As a parent of an “only” child with a husband working away a lot of the time I am sometimes challenged with trying to raise a happy, confident, kind and caring lil’ individual. With the pull of many responsibilities of day to day life, we try not to spoil this “only”, a difficult task especially when she pops those big baby blues at us!
Awhile ago, she began telling me a story about an incident that happened at school a few weeks earlier. I am always amused at how things just come up out of the blue long after they have happened. “Mommy,” she began, “ a Duty (a teacher assigned to recess duty) told me I was very kind, because when I was playing with Suzy and Katy came over to play with us, Suzy told her she couldn’t play with us! I told Suzy, “Yes, Katy can play with us!” Suzy said, “No she can’t this is a three person game,” …and I said, “So, come on Katy you can play with us and she did!”
Now, I know Suzy is a whole year older than my daughter and considered one of the “cool” kids by the others and of course especially by herself! Katy, however, has taken some time to adjust can be a little mean at times. It may be difficult for her being that she is the only one that wears glasses not to mention that she towers over all of the other kids in her class. I think it has be a struggle to find her way and fit in with her peers.
I can’t express my feeling of absolute joy and pride that our precious “only” child actually “got it”! That she was confident enough in herself to stand-up to an older girl whom she greatly admired to defend another child. That this sweet, at times spoiled, little girl understands the importance of being a friend and recognizes that everyone has feelings and deserves to be treated with kindness!
I gave her a big hug and said, “I am sooooo proud of you! How did that make you feel?” She excitedly told me that not only did the Duty compliment her by telling her, “That was very kind of you.”, but the Duty then told her teacher who complimented her as well. “I felt proud and happy mom!” she smiled at me.
At that moment I can tell you not only did I well up with a few tears of pride, but the feeling of humbleness that I experienced at that moment is something I will never forget! For my daughter to experience the feeling that comes from “giving from the heart” is truly an invaluable life lesson. At that moment I wasn’t there to guide her, at that moment she made a choice, on her own, even at the cost of facing adversity! Truly my proudest moment yet!
One thing I know for sure, I will have many more such moments to come and am so very blessed to have such a wonderful, giving little spirit in my life.
(Names have been changed to protect the innocent)
Anonymous
If I had to choose.......
If I had to choose one person who has modeled kindness and generosity of spirit throughout my lifetime, it would have to be my mother. She was always thinking about my grandmothers and doing things for them. She extended herself to neighbours who were in need, offering time and food and an ear to listen when times were tough. One lady was dying of cancer. My mother was one of the only people who called and visited this lady, bringing her things and showing she cared. I remember that lady crying with tears of joy and gratitude for what my mother did for her soon before she died. She had been lonely and isolated in her illness and overwhelmed by her young family. In mom’s mind, she didn’t do much at all but it clearly meant the world to our neighbour.
I learned as I watched my mother. I saw that she always had kind words and a ready smile for people who were somehow disadvantaged in life – mentally or physically challenged, poor, elderly, ill, you name it. Mom was not above anyone and she seemed to know that some people needed kindness more than others. I could see how she sort of glowed from the inside out and poured this light out on to the people around her, especially to the people who most would turn away from. I wanted what she had.
One of the things I am most grateful to my mother for is that she endured taking my sisters and me to church every Sunday despite our (occasional) protestations and the fact that dad did not attend. She directed the choir and participated in many of the church functions, instilling in me a love of feeling useful and a part of something innately good. I remember how one of the organists – a flamboyant, social misfit of a man, really admired my mother. She meant a great deal to him, I know, because she treated him as she did everyone else – with kindness and compassion. He would come walking in with a flowing black cape and an eccentric way about him in this ultra conservative place. He received many a sideways glance and looks of scorn, I am sure. I saw how my mother seemed to take no notice of his differences but rather focused on his talent, his heart, and his humanity and I saw what an impression this made on him.
My mother continues to care for people now that I am grown and have children of my own. I am grateful that she has begun to learn how to take care of herself, taking time to refuel as she nurses my chronically ill father. I am grateful to my mother for this because it soothes my soul to know that this person who I love so much is making some attempts to finally treat herself with a modicum of the kindness with which she treats others.
My mother has helped me to become the woman I am today and I am blessed to be paying it forward.
Anonymous
I learned as I watched my mother. I saw that she always had kind words and a ready smile for people who were somehow disadvantaged in life – mentally or physically challenged, poor, elderly, ill, you name it. Mom was not above anyone and she seemed to know that some people needed kindness more than others. I could see how she sort of glowed from the inside out and poured this light out on to the people around her, especially to the people who most would turn away from. I wanted what she had.
One of the things I am most grateful to my mother for is that she endured taking my sisters and me to church every Sunday despite our (occasional) protestations and the fact that dad did not attend. She directed the choir and participated in many of the church functions, instilling in me a love of feeling useful and a part of something innately good. I remember how one of the organists – a flamboyant, social misfit of a man, really admired my mother. She meant a great deal to him, I know, because she treated him as she did everyone else – with kindness and compassion. He would come walking in with a flowing black cape and an eccentric way about him in this ultra conservative place. He received many a sideways glance and looks of scorn, I am sure. I saw how my mother seemed to take no notice of his differences but rather focused on his talent, his heart, and his humanity and I saw what an impression this made on him.
My mother continues to care for people now that I am grown and have children of my own. I am grateful that she has begun to learn how to take care of herself, taking time to refuel as she nurses my chronically ill father. I am grateful to my mother for this because it soothes my soul to know that this person who I love so much is making some attempts to finally treat herself with a modicum of the kindness with which she treats others.
My mother has helped me to become the woman I am today and I am blessed to be paying it forward.
Anonymous
Neighbours
We had recently moved to the Comox Valley and we didn’t know anyone except for my husband’s boss. One day, as we were puttering around the yard, a lady riding an old-fashioned yellow bicycle came into our driveway bearing fresh eggs and a warm, welcoming smile. Our new next door neighbour’s simple, informal act of kindness touched our hearts and helped us to feel even better about where we chose to live. The offering of a handshake, a smile, and an introduction were priceless to us. The eggs were a tasty bonus.
Over the years, our next door neighbour has continued to bestow acts of kindness upon us. I will never forget the night I was wracked with grief, just two weeks after my sister’s sudden death. My husband was away, our small children were asleep and I was distraught, having suddenly begun to feel the impact of my loss. With no family near, I called our neighbour. Over she came in her pyjamas. She made tea for us and she sat next to me on the sofa and held me as I cried and trembled. She slept on the sofa that night and was there to greet me in the morning. I am honoured to pay these acts of kindness forward at every opportunity.
anonymous
Over the years, our next door neighbour has continued to bestow acts of kindness upon us. I will never forget the night I was wracked with grief, just two weeks after my sister’s sudden death. My husband was away, our small children were asleep and I was distraught, having suddenly begun to feel the impact of my loss. With no family near, I called our neighbour. Over she came in her pyjamas. She made tea for us and she sat next to me on the sofa and held me as I cried and trembled. She slept on the sofa that night and was there to greet me in the morning. I am honoured to pay these acts of kindness forward at every opportunity.
anonymous
Monday, June 4, 2007
This past hockey season my youngest son Cedar, who had never skated before, had a wonderful opportunity to play TimBit initiation hockey.It was a privilege to have my son be part of this amazing group, it made difference in his life. The coaches and team manager were all volunteers, very reliable and always cheerful. Their approach was always positive and pro-active, encouraging children to have fun and enjoy their hockey experience. The patience was something I admired most about the coaches, 20-30 children ages 5-7yrs at one time is a lot to handle, and the volunteers did it with a smile every week throughout the hockey season.
Their commitment to the community and hockey is outstanding! Thank you to the coaches and team manager for their commitment, dedication, and inspiring the children to become the next Sidney Crosbie.
Shari Caudron
A Surprise
It was only a few months ago. I was giving a workshop to a class of adults with cognitive difficulties about how to make Christmas cards. I had been working there for 3 months at that time and my last day had come.
Sylvia, a student, came up to me and asked me to help her in the making of her card. She told me it had to be as nice as possible because she was going to give it to a very special person that was leaving that day. “Oh really?”, I asked.
“Oh yes. You also have to help me make everyone sign it like you did with Cindy’s birthday card.”, she whispered as if she didn’t want the surprise to get to the wrong ears.
So there I was, sitting with Sylvia and helping her make my good-bye card. It was so sweet to share her excitement in making a surprise for someone. She made sure I was putting the glitters on the right spot and gluing the Christmas tree the proper way. She wanted everything to be perfect.
She finally gave me the card, after we had collected all of her classmates’ signatures. I do believe she never noticed she had told me about my surprise. I didn’t say anything. The only thing I could do was to admire her kind act. Her pride was such that her eyes shone beautifully. It made my own eyes glisten.
Sylvia, a student, came up to me and asked me to help her in the making of her card. She told me it had to be as nice as possible because she was going to give it to a very special person that was leaving that day. “Oh really?”, I asked.
“Oh yes. You also have to help me make everyone sign it like you did with Cindy’s birthday card.”, she whispered as if she didn’t want the surprise to get to the wrong ears.
So there I was, sitting with Sylvia and helping her make my good-bye card. It was so sweet to share her excitement in making a surprise for someone. She made sure I was putting the glitters on the right spot and gluing the Christmas tree the proper way. She wanted everything to be perfect.
She finally gave me the card, after we had collected all of her classmates’ signatures. I do believe she never noticed she had told me about my surprise. I didn’t say anything. The only thing I could do was to admire her kind act. Her pride was such that her eyes shone beautifully. It made my own eyes glisten.
Friday, June 1, 2007
As simple as "I love you"
It was a few weeks ago when I started feeling anxious about going back home. I had suddenly realized my one year trip was soon over and I didn’t know how to feel about it. I felt I still had so much too learn here before going back in the comfort of my so sweet home.
The next day, I still felt anxious but didn’t yet talk to anyone about it. I opened my email box and there was an email from my cousin from back home. I opened it. After reading it, my heart magically started flying free again. I had no more worries to bring me down.
The 13 years old sent me the sweetest email telling me that summer was soon and that she was happy because it meant I would come back. It was a simple: “I love you”. I suddenly remembered how it felt to be at home with people I love.
Thanks for that Clara. J
The next day, I still felt anxious but didn’t yet talk to anyone about it. I opened my email box and there was an email from my cousin from back home. I opened it. After reading it, my heart magically started flying free again. I had no more worries to bring me down.
The 13 years old sent me the sweetest email telling me that summer was soon and that she was happy because it meant I would come back. It was a simple: “I love you”. I suddenly remembered how it felt to be at home with people I love.
Thanks for that Clara. J
Smiley Sticker
A conversation between Kelly and Mj 2 years ago:
Hey Kelly!
-Yes Mj?
-Can you tell me the story of that smiley sticker you’ve got on your water bottle?
-Yes! It’s great! Ready?…Set…Go!
-I was in Washington with my friend a few months ago and we were laughing, while walking down the street. Than someone passing by stopped and told us: “I love your smile”. He gave us a hug and this smiley sticker and walked away. That’s it.
-Wow that’s a great story!
-Yes yes, told you.
Then, Kelly and I shared a joyful smile and gave each other a hug.
..........The End
Hey Kelly!
-Yes Mj?
-Can you tell me the story of that smiley sticker you’ve got on your water bottle?
-Yes! It’s great! Ready?…Set…Go!
-I was in Washington with my friend a few months ago and we were laughing, while walking down the street. Than someone passing by stopped and told us: “I love your smile”. He gave us a hug and this smiley sticker and walked away. That’s it.
-Wow that’s a great story!
-Yes yes, told you.
Then, Kelly and I shared a joyful smile and gave each other a hug.
..........The End
Friday, May 18, 2007
Kindness Rocks!!
I am happy to inform you that I have a kindness story.
Shortly after the pulse event I was driving to Buckley Bay to catch the next boat back to Hornby Island. My truck had been acting up the past couple days and the belt that was "supposed" to be fixed wasn't holding out.
I pulled into a gas station and found I didn't have the tools for the job. I went and asked the cashier if there where any tools I could use. She replied "I have the socket you need but you'll have to give me something as collateral." I had no jewelery,or cash in my pocket but I did have a rock.
I explained to her about paying it forward. She smiled and lent me the socket then I returned home safe and sound.
(The rock used for collateral was one given to the story teller at a booth by a pay it forward Comox Valley volunteer. She was handing out rocks with kindness written on them to promote the project).
Shortly after the pulse event I was driving to Buckley Bay to catch the next boat back to Hornby Island. My truck had been acting up the past couple days and the belt that was "supposed" to be fixed wasn't holding out.
I pulled into a gas station and found I didn't have the tools for the job. I went and asked the cashier if there where any tools I could use. She replied "I have the socket you need but you'll have to give me something as collateral." I had no jewelery,or cash in my pocket but I did have a rock.
I explained to her about paying it forward. She smiled and lent me the socket then I returned home safe and sound.
(The rock used for collateral was one given to the story teller at a booth by a pay it forward Comox Valley volunteer. She was handing out rocks with kindness written on them to promote the project).
Thursday, May 17, 2007
A New Hobby
I’ve got a new hobby. Since I was a Volunteer for the project “Pay it forward” with Comox ValleyLinks, where I had to collect kindness stories, I’ve had, as a hobby, collecting kindness stories. So today I was practicing my new hobby; asking people to tell me about their kindness story. First I asked my sister. It’s nice because now when I ask her, she knows what to answer. Before, she would always be looking for an amazing story that everyone could remember. I feel that she now notices more the unobtrusive kind acts of her everyday life. So she told me about her friend who helped her with a school project she was having a hard time with.
I asked Julia, a friend of mine who I met in a youth camp about three years ago and with whom I still talk sometimes. She told me about a colleague with whom she switches shifts when her work doesn’t match her busy schedule. She also told me about a friend who gives her drives when she really needs it; to go to the groceries for an example.
Next I asked Franck, a good friend of mine who I didn’t see for a while and he told me that his whole family brought his mom to the restaurant, without her knowing about it, for her 50th birthday. Than Jonathan, who I was on committees with in high school, told me a very cool story. At the restaurant where he worked, the same couple would come back every year, at Christmas Eve, to share a good dinner together. At the end of their meal they would choose another couple that they didn’t know in the restaurant and would pay for their dinner. They wouldn’t say it was from them. The only other thing they would do would be to write Merry Christmas on their bill.
Finally I asked an old family friend if he would have a kindness story to share. He answered by saying that people weren’t being very nice to him these days. That they would call him name and laugh at him. I told him, joking, that life was being very good for him these days. Than I told him it wasn’t cool and just by sending him a heart symbol from the internet, I sent him kindness. I added that my whole family really thinks he rocks. We decided we would soon go for a mini putt game with my brother and sister, just like we did last summer. And we just kept talking. I didn’t do that because I had pity of him. I did it because I honestly think he’s great and that I consider him a friend even if we don’t see each other very often. I guess he felt the trust I had in him and before I left, he told me he had a kindness story. He told me it was me. He said I was pretty good at bringing kindness in people’s day. That was very nice of him.
I also have a kindness story. Today, I’ve been told I was kind, by someone I have a lot of respect for.
Mj
I asked Julia, a friend of mine who I met in a youth camp about three years ago and with whom I still talk sometimes. She told me about a colleague with whom she switches shifts when her work doesn’t match her busy schedule. She also told me about a friend who gives her drives when she really needs it; to go to the groceries for an example.
Next I asked Franck, a good friend of mine who I didn’t see for a while and he told me that his whole family brought his mom to the restaurant, without her knowing about it, for her 50th birthday. Than Jonathan, who I was on committees with in high school, told me a very cool story. At the restaurant where he worked, the same couple would come back every year, at Christmas Eve, to share a good dinner together. At the end of their meal they would choose another couple that they didn’t know in the restaurant and would pay for their dinner. They wouldn’t say it was from them. The only other thing they would do would be to write Merry Christmas on their bill.
Finally I asked an old family friend if he would have a kindness story to share. He answered by saying that people weren’t being very nice to him these days. That they would call him name and laugh at him. I told him, joking, that life was being very good for him these days. Than I told him it wasn’t cool and just by sending him a heart symbol from the internet, I sent him kindness. I added that my whole family really thinks he rocks. We decided we would soon go for a mini putt game with my brother and sister, just like we did last summer. And we just kept talking. I didn’t do that because I had pity of him. I did it because I honestly think he’s great and that I consider him a friend even if we don’t see each other very often. I guess he felt the trust I had in him and before I left, he told me he had a kindness story. He told me it was me. He said I was pretty good at bringing kindness in people’s day. That was very nice of him.
I also have a kindness story. Today, I’ve been told I was kind, by someone I have a lot of respect for.
Mj
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Kindness is Global
Saturday - I Pedaled very, very slowly into El Salvador. About an hour into the ride, I stopped and asked a woman for some clarification on the roads I was meaning to take. She gave me the directions I needed, and than asked if Id like some water. I said yes. As we walked to her house near by, I was offered fruit. And then bread with a yogurt filling. These things were brought out to me by her son. I ate all very happily... as I hadn’t found breakfast yet that morning.I was then offered a shower. Being on my third day of crazy sweating while riding for hours in the sun, I definitely said yes. They helped me bring my very heavy bike inside and gave me a towel. I showered. Wow, it felt really weird and awesome to be clean. I even rinsed out some of my clothing. After I showered, she offered to wash some of my clothes. I couldn’t bear to do that, they stunk so badly. (Maybe that’s why she offered) so I said no. Her son tried to track down a map of El Salvador for me by calling one of his friends, but it didn’t work out. As I was leaving, she gave me a big bag of mangos for later on in the day (they lasted me 3 days) and freaking US$5 which lasted me 2 days. Unfortunately I didn’t get her name, I should have. Ill be going back to visit her on my way back through El Salvador.
So, later that day, after buying an El Salvador tourist map I stopped for a break in a small town to change over my tire, which was progressively getting worse. A couple of people off the street (which turned out to be very awesomely bike savvy) helped me out, and the process of stripping down the gear off of my bike, wrestling with my overly large/heavy/burly rear rack, putting my decent front tire on the rear, putting the cheaply tire on the front, and getting it all back together took only half an hour. As I was loading the stuff back on to my bike an elderly woman (whom I guess had overheard the details of my epic adventure as I was talking to the people who were helping me with my bike) came out and asked if I was hungry. I said... Yes! She invited me inside, and her and her husband sat me down at a table where a very very tasty looking beautiful lunch had been laid out for me. I ate until my stomach hurt. Wow... food was so good. I still can’t really believe that two things like that happened in one day. And I wasn’t even staying the night! Her name is Edna Torres, from Turin, Ahuachapán, El Salvador.
I thanked these people so much, what an awesome experience to have while riding by yourself for a first time through a foreign country. That night, I found a guard shack that was watching over a horse ranch... or rather, they found me. I was wandering around with my bike looking for a quiet place to camp when a guy wandered up to me, with a shotgun in hand. He asked me what I was up to; I told him I was looking for a place to sleep. He offered me a bunk in his cabin with him and his son.I said... Sure!! It was awesome, apart from the bugs in my bed that were biting me all night. There was also one of the most violent storms I’ve ever witnessed that night... they lasted all night. I was happy to be inside.
My time is running out for today, but there 2 important things were said to me before I left on this trip, and I want to repeat them: Never give up and stop, and Never refuse help that is being given to you along the way.
I have refused help; someone offered me a ride in a car. And there was the clothes washing thing. But this trip has been so challenging and difficult at times, from all the heat and bugs and things... El Salvador has proven to be one of my favorite countries. I’ve had continuous amazing experiences with people being incredibly generous and welcoming, wherever I’ve gone.
I’ve had several experiences of people calling me into their houses off of the street, providing me with food, often showers... and on one occasion... money! It was $5US, but that bought my food for 2 days down here. I’ve also been sleeping for free, as I’ve found many safe places and homes to sleep with the tent that I bought. My life has definitely taken a big sharp turn - and I love every second of it.
........Tyler Walker, on his bike trip through South America.
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