"What we do for ourselves dies with us, what we do for others lives on forever"
...John
Monday, August 20, 2007
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
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