I spend quite a bit of time with our little grandjoys. Each week, I dedicate one day to spend with them.  Some weeks we get ‘bonus’ days.  These come when someone might be too sick to go to school or to their childcare provider, or when Kaitlyn and Matt have extra work commitments.  Once in a while, it takes some fancy footwork on this end, and often a couple of late nights working on our own work to make the timing happen, but I choose to say yes whenever I possibly can.  These days of little boys are short.  I do not take them for granted and I make it my mission to find joy in every one of them.

Most of the time it’s not hard.  Andy, at two, and Ben, now six, never cease to have me in stitches over some comment they make.  Sometimes, the days are more challenging.  But always they are precious.  Last week this was my little side-splitter with Andy:

Me:  Andy, I hear you’ve been singing some songs at your day home.
Sweet Andy: Yes.
Me:  What kind of songs do you sing there?
Sweet Andy:  Oh, just cwrappy ones.
Me (trying not to fall on the floor laughing) (Crappy?!!! Where in the world did he come up with this word?)
Me:  What kind?

And then he showed me with his little hands.  Clappy.  Clappy ones!

For every day we spend together there is something worth noting.  Often, it’s something funny. The laughter comes easy with these two and enriches our lives beyond anything we could have imagined.  But sometimes, the thing that stands out in the day isn’t funny, rather it’s a thing that really makes me think.  Last week, while driving with Ben, such a moment unfolded.

As we drove down the onramp to the freeway, Ben noticing all the different vehicles and their makes, commented from the back seat, ‘There’s a vehicle not doing what its name says.’

Huh? 

We looked to our left and saw a large empty car carrier driving past.  Sure enough, while its name may have been Car Carrier, it was not carrying a single car.  Ben had just said it as a statement, with no judgement.  But later that evening I found myself judging.  My mind was turning over with thoughts of how many names we use to describe ourselves, and how sometimes we are definitely not doing what our names say.

At first, thinking about how we don’t always do what our name says, I found it easiest to judge others.  It’s always easy to see how others could improve themselves.  It didn’t take long, however, to realize that I too, am guilty of not always doing what my name says.

For instance, most of us would say we are a friend.  This is a name we proudly give ourselves.  We were taught how to be a good friend.  We were even taught what it means to be a friend.  And yet, how often are we a bit too tired to make a phone call that might just make a significant difference in the life of one of our friends?  Or how often do we assume we will have more time next week, next month, next summer, next year, to make a plan to visit a friend?  Or how often is it that when our friend is telling us of a problem, do we follow with one of our own, instead of just listening and supporting.  It’s tough to admit that while we call ourselves Friend, we don’t always do what our name says.

Each of us has many, many names we go by.  We are CEO, manager, sister, father, advocate, friend, plumber, consultant, teacher, mother, brother, athlete, politician, farmer, gramma.  Of course, it’s impossible to do what our name says all the time, but there are definitely times when we could, and perhaps should, focus on doing what our name says. 

When the empty car carrier drove past us, I mentioned to Ben that he might have just dropped off a load, or perhaps he was on his way to get a load.  But the truth is this, when a big vehicle drives past, a vehicle that is so clearly a car carrier, and that is so clearly capable of being a good car carrier, and it’s not doing the very job its name says it does, it can leave a little boy feeling a bit disappointed.  I’m guessing it’s the same disappointment the rest of us feel when a boss doesn’t do what their name is, or a mother or father, or a doctor, or a carpenter, or a brother, or a friend. 

This week I’m practicing doing what my name says, and if I’m a car carrier, I plan to have a full load of cars. 
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to do what your name says. 
 

One of my quieter resolutions for 2024 is to become a more regular visitor to our public library.  As a child, I loved the library and spent hours in it.  Even when our family travelled to New Brunswick each summer, the library in Newcastle was a favourite haunt of my sisters and mine.  In Newcastle, the library was a beautiful old home, The Old Manse, once owned by Lord Beaverbrook.  This incredible home was originally owned by a shipbuilder, then sold to the Presbyterian church to be used as the manse for their minister and his family.  In 1952 Lord Beaverbrook bought it from the Church, renovated it, and donated it to the town of Newcastle to be used as the first public library. 

It wasn’t too many years after its transformation that my sister, Mary, took me there to get a library card.  It was special beyond belief.  We were allowed to read in the library and take out books to use while we were on vacation, and the best of all was that, at the end of our holiday, the kind librarian saved our library cards on file, for us to use the following summer.  We thought we had won the lottery with this kindness.

Given all this, I’m not quite sure how as an adult I lapsed in my loyalty to libraries.  I suspect part of it was that when we lived on our acreage, the ‘local’ library wasn’t so local, and for a time the fee to get a card in the city was prohibitive.  At any rate, here I am now, a city dweller, determined to make visits to the library, not just to the kids’ section, part of my more regular routine.

I read an article this week about a movement originating in Denmark.  In libraries there, and now in 70 other countries in the world, instead of borrowing a traditional book to read a story, you can borrow a person instead.  The idea, established in 2000, is to allow the borrower to ask questions about someone’s life and experience and to understand issues better.  The people being borrowed present themselves as ‘open books’, freely giving information and perspectives on a wide variety of sometimes not easily discussed topics.  People who volunteer to be human books often represent a group in society that may have been subject to prejudice, stigmatization or discrimination, but may also be people who simply have a wonderful life story to tell.

The original simple concept was to challenge stereotypes. Many of us have preconceived notions and perhaps even strong opinions about groups of people with whom we may never have interacted.  Some libraries now even host ‘Book of the Month’ where a particular human book gives an ‘open book’ talk to a group.

Sometimes written stories are engaging because of the action contained within, because of what the characters do.  I’ve noticed, however, that if the stories are heavy on action and light on character development and plot, they aren’t nearly as interesting.  When we are invited to understand the feelings, heartbreaks, dreams, challenges, and desires of a character, we find ways to connect with and relate to them.

We have an odd little tendency in our society; we want to connect deeply with others, but we can be reluctant to be open books, to show our vulnerabilities.  While our intent may be to protect ourselves, the result is we find ourselves gathering dust on a library shelf.   No one is all that interested in ‘checking us out’.

The reason the Human Library is so popular is because all the books have agreed to be open.  They have agreed to risk sharing not only their accomplishments, their doings, but also the more personal parts of their story, their being.  When the borrower is gifted with such openness, the common result is that they find themselves fulfilling the tagline of the program which is to “unjudged someone”.

All this learning about this concept of ‘human books’ has had me thinking.  ‘What’s my story?’, I wonder.  Perhaps more importantly, what do I want my story to be, and how can I align my life to make it so.  If someone were to take me out of the library for thirty minutes, who would they meet? 

We are each given one trip on this earth.  One.  There are no do-overs.  We cannot pretend that this time is a dress rehearsal and next time we’ll be more brave, adventuresome, loving, thoughtful, hard-working, inventive, creative and inspiring.  We are writing our story each moment we breath.

May this week, which happens to be ‘Freedom to Read Week’,  bring opportunities for each of us to add to our humanness, and to fill our lives with some of the things we would like others to ‘read’ should they decide to ‘check us out’.
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to become the human book you’d be proud to star in. 
 

Last weekend the forecast called for snow.  Not the kind of snow Nova Scotians and Prince Edward Islanders were expecting, but snow, nonetheless.  We’d been basking in temperatures more often seen in May than January, so it was no surprise to anyone that some cooler weather might arrive.  The city itself was just on the edge of the snowfall warning areas, but knowing how one little wind can change everything, we weren’t exactly sure what we’d get.  It turned out the forecast was accurate and we only ended up with a couple of inches at our place.

However, just a bit further to the west, a much heavier layer of snow fell, and it was to this we were treated when we headed out to go hiking on Tuesday.  Our little Tuesday Trek group was missing a member on Tuesday, and we had a time constraint, so we chose to adventure in our foothills rather than making the trip to the mountains. It’s amazing what a difference a forty-minute drive can make.

Once we had chosen and then started on our trail we were immediately met with perfect fresh snow, and lots of it.  At least a foot of soft white snow had fallen only two days before, and in many places, the trail had welcomed very few visitors since then.  We found ourselves trekking along in knee high snow, sometimes following in the footsteps of a brave lone hiker, and sometimes, when we were lucky, walking along a narrow track made by a fat bike tire.

The walking was hard, but the beauty, the beauty was indescribable.  Miles and miles of forest stretched before us, trees laden with snow.  Adding to the beauty was the lack of wind and the absolute silence. The blanket of snow provided incredible insulation.  More than once one of us would stop to remind each other to ‘Listen to that’, and when we did, we heard absolutely nothing.  Not one sound.

Normally on our hikes, we stop often to take pictures of the beauty around us.  This week was no exception, in fact we may have stopped more frequently just to give our legs a little rest.  Even so we found ourselves frustrated with our photography more than is usual.  This was not due to any lack of subject material, but rather with our inability to capture the vastness of the beauty, and the stillness of the forest. 

We love hiking in winter.  Yes, the cold can be challenging, but we’re lucky to have access to good warm clothing.  One of the things our group really enjoys is our ability to see tracks in the snow, and to imagine the goings on of the creatures living there.  Without snow, it’s impossible to know if a moose has recently been in the area, or a cougar, or even a little rabbit or mouse.  But in the winter, especially on a day where the ground is covered with almost untouched snow, it’s easy to see who has come before us. 

At one point as we walked along, we could see a fairly large area where the snow had been packed down.  It didn’t take too much sleuthing to figure out that one of the fat bike riders had ‘wiped out’.  There was the imprint of the tire, the shape of the body and even the impression of the helmet had mad as it hit the soft snow.  We marvelled that anyone would even attempt to ride in such conditions. 

Other than the body image of the fat biker left in the snow on the side of the path, the rest of the snow was untouched.  I noticed none of us had a great desire to touch it either.  This may have been in part due to its depth, but more than that, it seemed that if we were going to mark it, it should be with something deliberate, with something that might add to, rather than detract from, the beauty.  It was a large untouched canvas.  We were quiet as we simply looked at it.

As we walked along further, gently sketched in the snow on the side of the trail were three hearts.  There were no initials to identify the artist or kind-hearted person who had drawn them, but three beautiful hearts were right there for our enjoyment.  Those felt like something worthy of disturbing the perfection of the landscape.

As we hiked toward our stopping place for lunch we noticed five women of a certain age, an age similar to ours, snowshoeing toward us.  Other than three bikers, these were the first people we’d seen since we started out.  We could hear them laughing and could see they were setting up the scene for a photograph.  We stopped about fifty metres away to watch. Their canvas was blank in front of them.

Four of the women lined up, side by side, feet on the trail and backs to the gentle slope of pristine snow behind them.  When the photographer started filming, the women, one by one, starting with the one closest to the camera, fell backward into the snow.  Then the four of them created beautiful snow angels to be left for later hikers to enjoy.  The scene was so simple, so beautiful, and the best part of all was their laughter as they partook in such a child’s pleasure.
In that moment these women chose who they would be.  They chose to seize the moment, to create joy, to support one another, to bring laughter to silence, to leave a positive imprint, to cherish their time.

We thanked them for our entertainment, they thanked us for waiting, and we all moved on, none of us the same for this small, small encounter.

We too in our lives have perfect canvases laid out before us.  Some of us wait for a milestone, a new year, a birthday or a beginning of a job or new school year, to think about what we’d like to paint on our canvas.  The truth is our canvas is always right in front of us, untouched.  Every single moment we get to choose what we paint on it, what marks we make on it.  Most of our hours are, of course, filled with the demands of others; others have no trouble ‘helping’ us paint.  But only we can paint who we intend to be.  We get to choose the marks we leave.  We are completely in charge of the colours we use and the pattern of our brush strokes.  And we always have a fresh canvas in front of us.

May you notice your canvas this week as you bustle about with the busyness of life.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What am I painting on my canvas today?’
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to notice your canvas and to paint your truest self. 
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It’s February.  Heart month.  While I’m not a big fan of the commercialization of Valentine’s Day, I am a big fan of hearts.  Healthy hearts, generous hearts, loving hearts and full hearts.  I’d mention chocolate hearts but that might lead you to think my earlier statement was false. 

Driving home from yoga this week I listened to a radio show featuring a heart specialist.  He spoke on everything from the incidence of heart disease and cardiac arrests to the prevention of each of those.  I enjoyed hearing his information and at the same time found my mind wandering to two heart events in our family, one several years ago, and one just last week.

When Jim had his heart attack, over a decade ago, we were living on our acreage outside the Calgary city limits.  At the time, the province had adopted a centralized emergency response system, meaning when 911 was dialed, the person answering the phone was not situated in Calgary, nor were they familiar with the city or the surrounding area.  This led first to several dropped calls, and then to a delay in the ambulance being deployed.  Complicating matters, one of the medics thought they knew the way to our acreage and opted to use their own internal GPS over the satellite one in the ambulance.   This further delayed help, making the total response time to be about 44 minutes.  Our home was a 17-minute, normal speed drive from the dispatching Emergency Services station.

The great news is that while the paramedic did not have quite as good an internal GPS as he imagined, he and his partner had the absolute best medical skills.  They were in immediate contact with the cardiologist at Foothills hospital, had Jim stabilized and on proper medications before they ever left our yard, and their bedside manner was beyond incredible.  Once on the road, they were at Foothills hospital in under 20 minutes, a ride that normally takes between 45 and 50 minutes in clear weather.  Jim recounts them saying, ‘Light ‘er up!’ when they hit the main road. 

Our next few weeks and months after that scary evening, were a blur, with a stay in ICU, open-heart surgery, a stay in Cardiac ICU, the return to home, the failure of the wires holding Jim’s sternum together, the second surgery planned, and finally, figuring out how to process it all.

Our second cardiac event occurred just last week.  Little Andy was upstairs with Jim when I heard him crying.  He sounded hurt but I waited to see how it would play out. The crying stopped and a little while later he and Jim came downstairs.  ‘Andy’, I said, ‘Are you ok? I heard you crying?  What happened?’

Andy’s little face just crumbled and he started to cry again.  ‘I was heartbroken’, he said as he came for a hug.  As I hugged him, he revealed that his heart had been broken when Grampa told him no.  Later that evening he was back at home and his mom told him to stop touching the treats she was assembling into treat bags for Ben’s party.  Andy hopped down from his chair, went to Kaitlyn and sadly told her:

‘You did broke my heart’.

Both stories have a happy ending.  Andy’s sweet little heart was easily fixed with a good hug.  Jim’s was fixed too, with the skill of several incredible surgeons, a team of health care providers, and so many kindnesses received from friends and family around the world. 

A couple of months after Jim’s cardiac event, our neighbours and friends, Susan and Daryl, met us walking on the road and stopped for a visit.   Susan told us Jim’s experience had inspired Daryl to purchase a portable defibrillator after Jim’s incident.  Daryl knew that even if the ambulance had been dispatched immediately, and even if there had not been a further delay, Daryl certainly could have arrived at our home within a couple of minutes of receiving a phone call from us. 

Daryl downplayed his thoughtfulness, mentioning he had purchased defibrillators for work, had learned how to use them, and decided to buy one for their home to ensure his neighbours, and their family, were all covered if the need should arise again. 

The truth is this though; Daryl is simply an incredibly thoughtful person.  Over and over, we have known he and Susan to notice ways they can positively contribute and to quietly go about making life better for others.  These two have full hearts, and they find countless ways to fill the hearts of others.

The vast majority of us will never need the use of a defibrillator, like the one Daryl has at the ready on their acreage.  But every single one of us does have a heart and most of our hearts would benefit from the kind of love that Daryl showed us so many years ago.  There is plenty of scientific evidence helping us understand how to improve our heart health.  We all know diet, exercise, sleep and avoiding smoking are important, but it’s also true that heart health is improved by good relationships and by decreasing stress.  Every one of us has the ability to help the heart health of others by being a good friend, by being a thoughtful and kind acquaintance, and even by treating strangers with love.  We have no idea what people are dealing with, nor do we have any idea how our small actions may impact others.  What we do know is that both the giver and the receiver's hearts benefit from kindnesses.

As I thought back on our time from Jim’s heart event, I recalled writing an email update every evening upon returning from the hospital.  I saved all those updates and looked back through them today.  I was looking for one entry in particular and found it:

On my drive home tonight, I was thinking about Jim’s open-heart surgery.  Jim has the most open heart of all the people I know. I am counting on that to get us through.
It is a beautiful Blue Moon Night.  A rare occurrence.  So is a second chance at life.

It was so easy to pick Andy up and give him a big snuggle when I learned he was heartbroken.  It’s not so easy to notice hurt hearts in others.  We’ve learned to hide our hurts well.

In this month of February, heart month, let us use the power we have to increase the heart health of all those in our lives.  We can do this with a good hug, a kind word, a smile, an offer of friendship or an act of service.  And we can certainly easily do it when a sweet little boy lets us know that ‘you did broke my heart’. 

My inquiry for you this week is ‘How am I improving the heart health of those in my life?’
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to no to improve heart health.