Last Friday I had scheduled an oil change for my SUV.  I bought it in the fall, and this was to be it’s very first service appointment.  When I called the Ford dealership where I purchased the car, they had quite a few openings for me to choose from in terms of when I’d bring the car in.  There really was absolutely no question in my mind.  I wanted to bring it in on a Friday, a Gramma Day.

Ben loves everything cars, and he LOVES going to car dealerships.  He thinks a wonderful way to spend a couple of hours is to visit a variety of dealerships, looking in their lots for not only their makes and models of vehicles, but for what other vehicles might be on the lot too.  He especially loves to go to Advantage Ford, where I’ve bought my last couple of vehicles and where I always go to have them serviced.  Whenever I drop off my car, I wait until he, and now Andy too, can go with me. 

This is a two adult adventure since after I drop my car off, we need a way to get home.  Usually, the way we work it is we put the car seats into Jim’s truck, and both drive to Ford, the boys with Jim.  Before I drive up to the service bay, we get Ben out of Jim’s truck and for a very rare treat, seatbelt him into the front passenger seat of my Escape, so he can see the door rise up, and drive with me into the service bay.  The thrill is beyond description.

Once inside, we hop out and Ben lets the person intaking the vehicles know what we came for.  He has no problem asking for an oil change or explaining that the tires need rotating.  Once the car is checked in, we meet Jim and Andy inside where the front desk is.  We miss nothing there.  We look at every new hubcap, every type of tire, every ball cap and every Ford vanity license plate.

We’ve been taking Ben to Advantage Ford for three or four years and the staff have come to recognize us.  All of them treat the boys like kings.  Often one of the people at the front desk will lean over to talk to the boys.  Almost every time, one of the salespeople tells them he has a little toy pull-back vehicle for them, and they are thrilled to pick from the little cache.  We’ve even been treated to the ‘out of bounds’ area where the actual servicing is done, so the boys can see vehicle up on hoists, tires being changed, engines being repaired, and every manner of service being performed. Usually, one of the people in the mechanic shop gives each boy a colouring book and crayons.  Many of the employees know them by name, and all know them to see them.

Our final part of our excursion is always the showroom where we see the most current models of the season.  The boys take turns being driver and passenger in EACH vehicle, and most often, Jim and I are invited to hop in the back while we are taken for a ‘drive’.  At the very back of the showroom is a little office.  This is where the real magic happens.  This is the office of Theresa.

Theresa is one of the finance officers and for some wonderful she and Ben struck up a friendship.  Each time we are on our way to Ford, Ben wonders if Theresa will be there.  When we finally get to the part of our routine when we get near Theresa’s office, one of two things happen, either Ben runs right in to see her or she looks up, her face lights up, and she opens her arms for a big hug.  When Ben brought his baby brother to meet her, she made the same kind of fuss over Andy.   She always takes the boys by the hand and lets them sit in the biggest, newest trucks.

This past December, on one of Ben’s Gramma Days he asked if we could make a few Christmas cards.  We had some fun making one for our special people, Shirley, Betty, his teacher, Mrs. J., and this year, Theresa.  He even wanted to pick up a little gift for her.  We dropped in at Ford one day,  and found Theresa at her desk talking with a couple who were purchasing a car.  Ben didn’t let that stop him, and he quietly stood at her door.  Theresa did not disappoint. She invited him in, gave him a hug, and introduced him to her clients as ‘This is Ben, our very best customer.  He knows all about cars and trucks and we hope he’ll work here some day.’  Ben left his little card and gift and off we went.

I haven’t had any need to go to Ford since then, that is until last Friday.  We went through our whole Ford routine, finally making our way back toward Theresa’s office.  This time, Theresa did not have anyone in her office, and she spotted Ben before he reached her door.

Suddenly, a large booming voice could be heard throughout the dealership, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen!  Ladies and Gentlemen!!!  I have a very special announcement! Our VERY SPECIAL friends have arrived!!!’

She swung around in her chair and removed a card from the wall.  It had ‘Ben and Andy’ written on the front and had been tacked to the wall, awaiting their return.  Theresa gave it to Ben to open.   Every one of the employees had signed a Ford card for Ben and Andy, writing special messages for them.

Ben is a confident little guy, but he is also shy.  I’m so glad Theresa didn’t let that stop her.  As the boys heard the message and received their hug and card, I could almost see them puff up with love and pride.  They were thrilled beyond measure.

One of the greatest gifts we can give to others is to make them feel seen.  Sometimes we get in our own way, making assumptions about how others want to be treated and seen.  We don’t always get it right.  Often people who are quieter or shy get left out because people assume, ‘They wouldn’t want a fuss.’ Others who can take up a lot of space, often get the fuss, but don’t receive the gift of quieter compliments.

Every single one of us appreciates being seen.  We appreciate knowing that our simply showing up is meaningful.  When I was a brand-new mother, the best piece of advice I received was this, ‘The best gift you can give your child is to have your face light up when they enter the room.’ 

Theresa did this perfectly. 

Perfectly.

Next weekend we will celebrate Easter.  If we are lucky, we will gather with friends and family, perhaps for a meal, perhaps for an Easter Egg hunt.  Perhaps when our company arrives, we’ll be brave enough to welcome them with, “Ladies and Gentlemen!  I have a very special announcement.  Our VERY SPECIAL friends have arrived.’

Happy Easter.  

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How do I welcome?’

I'm going to take a couple of weeks off.  See you in April.

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 welcome.

Driving home from our hike on Tuesday, we marveled at the snowless fields.  It’s March.  In Alberta.  Some years we have snow piled high causing us to hope the melt doesn’t happen too quickly, creating flooding.  This year we have no such worry.  While there is still lots of snow in the mountains, even there the amounts are shy of normal for us.  So, for those of us with a little farmer in our blood, we’re feeling anxious about those bare, dry fields.

Usually, spring is a time for hope.  Hope for longer, warmer days.  Hope for new life in the animal kingdom.  Hope for the first little sign of flowers, and the first buds and blossoms on trees.  And hope for the perfect planting conditions for farmers, conditions that can lead to a plentiful crop.

But this year, while we are not hopeless, our hope is less.

I love planting season.  Even after being witness to many decades of it, I still get excited watching farmers turning over their soil, preparing it for the new crop.  I love the smell of the fresh dirt, and the possibilities that come with it.  I get a thrill out of the idea of putting tiny seeds in the ground and watching while they grow into something remarkable.  It’s a miraculous thing, really.

This week though, as we drove along, I thought about the farmers as they prepare for this years’ growing season.  It’s not quite time to think about dropping those little seeds into the ground, but it will be upon us before we know it.

The problem this year is not that the farmers won’t be ready.  It’s not that they won’t be able to get onto their land to prepare it.  It’s not that they don’t have their equipment tuned up and ready.  It’s not that they don’t have seed, although this too has increased in price making its purchase more painful.  This year, the problem is we haven’t had nearly the moisture we needed this winter.  After our dry, dry summer and fall last year, there is daily talk of potential drought conditions.  Even if those little seeds are planted with the most care into the most fertile soil, without them being encouraged by rain, or some kind of moisture, many of those planted seeds will never reach their full potential.  When planted seeds are watered by the rains, they somehow gain courage, they puff up just enough to begin to sprout.  And once that tiny little sprout makes it’s first appearance, other elements join in to encourage it to continue to grow.  But it is the encouragement of that first rain that gives it a chance at all.

This of course has had me thinking beyond the farmers fields.  I’ve been thinking about all the seeds that have been planted in me, and those I have planted in others.  While I know that many seeds planted in me have taken root and flourished, as have many of those I’ve planted in others, I can’t help but wonder if it’s possible that some of them never reached their potential due to the same issue our farmers currently face; lack of rain, or in our case, lack of precious encouragement.

How easy it is for us to say to a colleague, ‘Oh, you’d be great leading that team’, planting the seed in them that perhaps they should put their name forward for the position.  Or perhaps we say to a teenager, ‘Oh, I could picture you on that team.  Or in that play.’  Or to our own child or friend, ‘I know you’ll figure it out.  You’ve got this.’  But once we plant that seed, how often do we forget to return to them to ask if they had considered how to proceed, to talk it over with them, to encourage them, to help puff them up to enhance their courage so as to be brave enough to break out of their little safe shell, just a tiny bit.

When Jim and I were preparing to become teachers, the university we attended had a special room set up where a student teacher, could present a lesson to a real class of students and be videotaped.  They then could view their teaching later to see what things they did well, and where some improvements might be made.  This was advanced technology for the time.

I can’t recall what Jim was teaching for his lesson, but the part I do recall is that once the kids were working on their assignments at their desks Jim circulated around the room helping where needed.  There was a young male student who put his hand up for help.  In the video you could see Jim stop and briefly speak to the boy, resulting in the boys face lighting up.  The student turned back to his assignment, and Jim, feeling good about the encounter, turned away to help another student who was nearby.  Jim continued on for the next few minutes helping one student after the next. 

When Jim watched the video back later that day, what he saw was that when he turned away from that first student, the boy had looked at his assignment but then had immediately looked back toward Jim to ask something else.  When he  saw only Jim’s back, noticing that Jim had moved on from him, his face just crumpled.  Jim was shocked and quite upset when he saw the video.  It was a pivotal moment in Jim’s early training.  He realized it was not only critical to plant as many seeds as possible, but that he also needed to return to make sure those seeds had what they needed to grow.

Driving home today I was listening to a radio talk show.  I tuned in late and only heard the ending.  The interviewer had spoken with an author who’s first name was Mary.  She was at the point of thanking her for the interview.  Mary responded, ‘Thank you for this.  Your questions have helped me think about how so much of this connects. Thank you for your attention.’  She might well have said, thank you for watering my ideas.

It’s not only the seeds we sow ourselves that we can water.  We can notice someone trying to grow their own garden of life, and through a kind word, or action, through a meaningful discussion, or even just a  look, can become the rain, the encouragement they might need to keep believing in themselves.

This week, I encourage each of us to get out our watering cans, and to use them liberally.  And perhaps we can send up a little request to the rain and snow gods.  Our farmers have a lot of seeds on their hands.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What seeds need watering?’

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 water ideas for the best possible harvest. 
 
 
 
 
 

I’ve had a pesky virus for the last couple of weeks.  My understanding is that it’s out there.  Everywhere.  I know for sure it’s been in here.  The kids have had it, same with Jim, and then me.  It’s amazing how a little germ, a tiny little thing that we can not even see, can have such an impact on our bodies.  Besides the cough, fever, sinus and lung infections, I was treated to some laryngitis, leaving me with just a whisper of a voice for quite a few days.  My voice is returning now; I like to think it sounds kind of sexy, but in truth, it’s more like a frog.

When you only have so much voice power, you tend to think before you speak.  After all, there are only so many words that can be uttered before nothing comes out at all.  I did discover though, that if I whispered, I had more staying power.
As I treated myself to recovery days, with lots of time for reading, knitting, thinking about upcoming work opportunities, and reflecting, I found myself treasuring memories.  I have a lot of treasures in my chest of memories.  I was particularly missing seeing our grandjoys.

In our days spent with the boys, while much of the time is filled with busy, busy activities, activities I love, I also treasure the small quieter moments with each of them.  Andy is two, almost three, and while he has mentioned that maybe he’ll turn five on his next birthday instead of three (so he can have gum), I really have no desire to wish the magic of two away just yet. 

Recently he and I were together at home and he wondered where Grampa was.  I said that I thought Grampa was just getting up.  I then looked at him and whispered, ‘Do you think we should go say hi?’  As he processed my words, Andy looked intently at my face for what seemed to be quite a long time, then very seriously, and very quietly, whispered back to me, ‘Okay’. 

It was the whispering that he had been figuring out.  And his little voice, so precious. I could hold the sound of it forever. 
Both the boys have been the recipients of my whispering.  I have made a little tradition of whispering messages of love in their ears since they were born.  Often, after I had changed them, I would pick them up, hug them and whisper, ‘My precious, precious Ben.’  Or ‘My precious, precious Andy’. 

We have no idea when our whispers will be heard.  However, I had a glimpse into the answer one day when Ben was almost past the stage of needing to be changed.  I had changed him, picked him up and was gently hugging him, his face against mine, as I walked downstairs holding him.  I hadn’t whispered my normal words, my mind no doubt on something else, but as we walked, I heard quietly in my ear, ‘My precious, precious Ben.’

This past week, I had to stop in at the doctors for an antibiotic, and an unexpected requisition for an ultrasound.  Normally, I’d have come home, called the main booking line for an appointment for my ultrasound, sat while the generic music played and then booked an appointment for a few weeks out.  However, walking out of the building where the doctor’s office is, I walked past a radiology clinic.  Something whispered in my ear, ‘Go in’.  I went in the doors, showed the nurse receptionist my requisition, and she amazed me by saying, ‘We’ve just had a cancellation.  Can you wait ten minutes, and we can do it?’

Huh.

I had a similar experience when I first thought I might like to learn to 'line dance'.  I did a quick google search and saw the website for CC Dancers.  I wasn't sure, but something whispered, 'Call'.  I was invited to join and on the very first evening lost my way as I tried to find the community centre where it was held.  I remember clearly thinking I should just turn around and head home, surely this was a sign.  But something whispered, 'Give it a try.  Keep looking'.  A decade later my life is immeasurably better for having listened to the whisper.

We all hear little whispers every day.  Some of us have learned to listen, and to trust, some never catch on.  Hearing whispers isn’t a gift given only to a chosen few.  We all hear whispers, but only some choose to stop to listen to them.  What I know is some of my most wonderful blessings have come in the form of tiny little whispers.

Whispers offer us a glimpse of what is possible if only we dare to listen.  Sometimes they give us just the nudge we need.  Sometimes they offer the voice of reassurance in a chaotic world.  And sometimes, when we are very lucky, they fill our hearts with just what we need. 

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What whispers do I hear?’

Post Script

I finished writing this blog post on Wednesday.  I don’t share my writing, or the topic of it with anyone ahead of time, I usually just finish it and wait until the weekend to post it.  I don't talk about it with my kids, and I assume, most weeks they don't have time to read it.  Wednesday evening, I talked to Kaitlyn about logistics for having the boys this week.  She and Matt had a meeting Thursday and I needed details on timing for picking up the boys.  As we finished our conversation, she said, ‘Andy would like to talk to you.  Do you have time?’  Of course I do!

Andy is still figuring out phones.  When it is a Facetime call, he can see my face and the phone makes sense.  When it’s a regular call, and he can only hear the voice, it’s still a bit confusing.  This call was a regular call.  Kaitlyn put me on speaker, so he didn’t have to worry about holding the phone to his ear.  He and I chatted for a few minutes.  I asked him about his little friends at his day home.  And we talked about what we’d do when he came for his Gramma Day.  When it was time to go, I said, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.  I can’t wait!  I love you, Andy.’

There was silence on his end.

Then Kaitlyn said, ‘He’s just whispered, I love you.’
​
Coincidence? I think not.

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 hear whispers.  

On American Idol this week was a stunning performance by a singer named Abi Carter.  She entered the audition room humbly and told about being the second eldest in a family of seven children.  Then she sat down at the piano to play and sing.  She chose the Billie Eilish Song, What Was I Made For?  This song was featured in the famous Barbie movie.
It was stunning.  She was stunning.

Once it was over and the judges had rendered their opinions, resulting in her receiving a platinum ticket to Hollywood (a huge honour on this show), and once they had predicted she might win the entire competition, I turned to Jim and said, ‘She’s an example of someone who, when her chance came, was ready, and made the absolute most of it.’

Earlier that week, before the show ever aired, and before I was thinking about American Idol, I heard the comment, ‘If you’re always ready, you never have to get ready.’  It was a reference to running and being in shape for races.  On first blush, it sounded about right.  After watching and listening to Abi Carter, I definitely agreed with it.  Clearly, she had been ready.  But the more I thought about it, the more I thought this was an unrealistic pressure to put on ourselves.  We cannot possibly always be ready.  Not for everything.  We cannot always be in top physical condition, ready to run a marathon or bike a Fondo at the mere mention of one.  We cannot always have enough money in our savings so that when we hear about a great trip, we just can throw a few things in a bag, ready to take off.  We cannot always be ready to apply for the next promotion, or to leave our current job for a completely different one.  And at home we cannot always be ready for illness, for accidents, for hardships, for unexpected news, or sometimes even for the little glitches life sends our way.

However, Abi Carter, taking the stage on American Idol was ready.  The words to What Was I Made For have been playing in my mind since hearing her.  What is it I am made for, I’ve been wondering.

I don’t think I was made simply to be ready.  I don’t think the purpose of my life is to be so organized, so perfect, so on top of every single thing that I, at the drop of a hat, or at the suggestion of someone, can simply pop into the spotlight, ready.  I don’t think any of us were made for this.  I have, at times in my life, very fleetingly wondered when my chance would come.  When would I be invited to step into the spotlight, finally getting a chance to showcase myself?  And then I used to wonder, what exactly would it be that I’d showcase? I didn’t have a clue.   Not that it mattered, my experience tells me life doesn’t quite work like that.

For most of us mere mortals, there is no stage awaiting us, at least not in the way we envision stages to be.  There is no big announcement telling of our arrival.  There is no perfect lighting, no prepared video of our backstory highlighting the hurdles we have overcome, or the successes we have had.  There are no famous judges waiting to launch us into some yet unknown life. 

And yet, we can still be ready for whatever it is we are made for. 

My friend Betty sent us a little belated Christmas letter telling us of her new address.  She hasn’t moved, but the county where she lives has changed addresses to match those of the 911 system.  In her letter she said, ‘I plan to stay here on our acreage for a few more years, but I’ll wait to see what life gives me.’ 

This is Betty.

She’s not spending her time fussing about being ready for her big moment.  One of Betty’s many gifts is that she is never looking for a grand stage, but she is always ready to recognize the stage placed before her.  Betty is always ready to put her best self forward.  She does not save her ‘best Betty’ for only certain bold occasions.  She recognizes that when a friend calls and invites her to go for coffee, she’s being invited onto the stage.  When she has a meeting on her calendar, she’s being invited on stage.  Same with when her family comes to visit, or she to visit them.  Or friends.  Same with when she has a medical appointment.  Betty never disappoints. When she is invited, she brings her best self.  Once Betty gets on stage, in other words once she is in the moment, she gives her absolute best performance.  No whining, no wishing it was different, just noticing the moment and making the most of it. Betty treats moments of playing with children with no less enthusiasm and complete attention than she does to a trip to Europe.  As her letter indicated, she hopes her stage will be her acreage for the next years, but if a different stage appears, I have no doubt Betty will make her climb onto it look effortless.

Perhaps Betty has unlocked the answer to What Was I Made For?  What a life well-lived it is when we choose to be in the present moment and make the most of it.  What a well-lived life when we stop searching for the huge stage with the bright lights, and instead recognize all the smaller, meaningful stages we cross every single day.

At this point in my life, I’m not looking for a huge, bright stage.  I try to recognize all those little moments, those smaller stages, that invite me to bring my best self forward. I’ve figured out who I want to have on my stage with me, who I would love to have in my audience, and exactly what role I now play.  I know my director only wants the best for me, and the others with me are not called supporting actors by accident.  The friends with whom I surround myself play the role of support brilliantly.  I only hope I do the same for them. 

Tuesday night, two nights after Ali Carter’s performance on American Idol, I was on the Stampede Grounds waiting to perform in the Opening Ceremonies for the Special Olympics.  This was completely unexpected.  A small group from our large CC Dance group had created a fun little dance to perform at our Christmas party in November as part of the entertainment.  We did it just for fun and only for our group of dancers.  Our song was the Barbie Song (Come on Barbie, Let’s Go Party).  We had no idea that performance wasn’t the end of it.

Through an invitation from the Special Olympics organizing committee, we were invited to perform it on Tuesday night.  This time it WAS a huge stage.  There WERE bright lights.  There WERE famous people in the audience.  There WAS cheering and dancing.  It was by far, the largest audience I’ve ever stood in front of.  But I wasn’t there in any role I could ever have imagined.  I wasn’t giving a speech on leadership.  I wasn’t guiding an organization on Strategic Planning.  I wasn’t speaking about education in Kenya.  I was Construction Barbie.  Dancing to the Barbie Song.

We have no possible way to imagine the ways we’ll be invited on stages in our lives.  We don’t know what we were made for.  We can try to be ready for what we think might come our way, but I can assure you, never in a million years would I have thought I should prepare to be Construction Barbie dancing on stage.  What I am so grateful for is that I have people in my life like Betty who have taught me that when the stage appears, get on it, get present, and enjoy every minute of it. 
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What stage is awaiting me right now?’
​
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 take the stage.