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.
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