Jim and I finally decided we had reached the ‘more-likely-than-not’ safe season for planting our garden.  We bought our plants early this year.  Last year we felt like we’d missed the boat on many of the good ones.  But although Alberta is the land of sunshine, we can also quickly become land of snow or land of frost, neither of which encourage early spring planting.  

Our gardens are not large, at least not in comparison to what we had on the acreage, so the task was quick.  My photo challenge, on the other hand, has been anything but!

I’m digitizing all our photographs in an attempt to turn them into manageable chapters of our lives that will be accessible to our children.  About ten years ago, I got a great start on the project when I made photo books of the twenty-ish years of raising our kids.  Since then I’ve wanted to scan the rest of the pictures too, the ones from Jim’s and my earlier days, and days even earlier and later than those. I have scanned and labelled thousands of pictures.  I’ve almost reached the bottom of the last two bins! 

This week, as I was scanning our school pictures, I came across an old post card.  On the front was a picture of the main stadium of Olympic Park in Montreal.  On the back was a short message written to me by Whitey Sheridan.  Whitey was an iconic figure in the running community in Southern Ontario.  In 1976, I really had no idea exactly how iconic he was.  At the time, our country was preparing to welcome the 1976 Olympics to Montreal, and I somehow qualified for, and was allowed to enter, the Junior Olympics.  I say somehow, because these practices occurred during the springtime, planting time on the farm, and with ten children in our family, and one van, our parents were not in the habit of ‘driving us all over the countryside’.  My sister Shelley, and brother David, were also part of the Junior Olympics, which I think helped greatly in the decision to drive us to practice. Shelley was a better runner than I will ever be.  I just got lucky to hitch a ride and be able to participate.

I remember Whitey well and I’ve mentioned him over the years as a cultivator of my love of running.  He was our coach; a middle-aged man, with a shock of white hair, and a passion for running and training others to run.  He was a task-master, giving me perhaps my first taste of the effort it would take to become good.  Once our Junior Olympics had come and gone that spring, Whitey continued his coaching adventure all the way to the Olympics where he was involved with the track team.  I haven’t been able to track down his exact involvement with the Olympics that year.  I do know that Whitey himself came close to competing at the Olympic level when he finished third at the 1948 Olympic trials in Montreal.  What I do know for sure is what he wrote on the little post card he sent to me that summer. 

Hi.  Busy with preparations for games and getting ready for opening tomorrow.  Seen many athletes.  Keep it up, it’s great to make a team.  Regards, Whitey.

I had forgotten all about that postcard.  I had forgotten I had ever received it.  For forty-four years I have packed it around the country, from house to house, in a bin with photos, never, ever realizing I had it.  And yet, when I read it, it was so familiar to me, as to be a part of the very fabric of my being.  I recognized it instantly, as if it were an old friend who had changed, and yet not changed at all.  What Whitey did for me was to plant a little seed.  I’m not sure I recognized, when I was a teenager, the effort Whitey went to send this card.  I assume he sent one to each member of our Junior Olympic Team.   This was a man, busy at the Olympics, the night before opening ceremonies, who took time to write a little card of encouragement to a girl who loved to run. 

I never saw Whitey again.  I remembered him but I didn’t really think about his impact on me.  And yet, a little seed had been planted.  Over the years, whether I consciously thought about it or not, the seed grew into a love I gained for the sport of running, and into a series of travel adventures and opportunities to race.  He somehow allowed me to believe ‘I could’.  What a gift that seed was.

This morning I was out for a bike ride.  I talked to the knee clinic yesterday and I’ll just say they are not as hopeful as I am that I may run again.  If I had to guess, I’d say they were a solid ten percent.  I’m hanging in at around 80%.  So, as I continue to rehab, and strengthen, I bike.  I rode up behind a father and his young daughter on the bike path.  I’m guessing she was about 5 years old.  She was riding her two-wheeler along the path in front of her dad.  It was very obvious this was new to her.  She wobbled as she worked hard to keep her little bike on the right side of the yellow line.  I didn’t want to startle her so I settled in behind the dad until I could figure out when it might be safe to pass.  The dad sensed my presence and just continued to bike along behind his little girl.  He was watching her carefully, but not offering any more advice than was absolutely necessary.  When we came to an open stretch of pathway, I quietly asked him if he thought it was safe to pass – I was actually quite content to ride along behind and watch her progress but I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.  The dad quietly answered that yes, it was ok.  So, I did.  And the little girl was delighted that she stayed on ‘her side’.  And I wondered if the father had any idea of the seed he had just planted.

This dad could have done a lot of different things.  He could have suggested they stop, to let me pass.  He could have given her an alarming warning that someone was going to pass.  He could have reminded her to ‘be careful!’.  He did none of this.  What he did was allow her to be an equal biker, on a public path.  She had every right to be there and to be biking.  She had every right to go her speed.  She had every right to occupy her full space.  What her dad did, was plant a seed in her, to let her know she is just as worthy as anyone else to be on the path, following the rules like everyone else.  He let her know she is capable and he trusts her.  I loved it.

We are all restricted these days.  There are lots of new rules to follow and to get used to.  But there is no restriction at all on seed planting.  In this time of spring, as Whitey did so long ago for me, and that father did for his little daughter, I challenge each of us to find a seed to plant.  We may never, ever, think about it again or see its fruition. I know from experience though; seeds can be life-changers.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What seed am I planting?’
​
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. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn become an impactful gardener.

This week there have been hints that several professional sports leagues are trying to figure out ways to bring their games back to the fans.  Due to Covid 19, all professional and amateur sports have been postponed at best, and have had seasons cancelled at worst.  My understanding is that all teams are suffering financially, and that any portion of a season that can be salvaged will help.  I’m guessing the players, too, are anxious to get back playing the sports they love so dearly.  Many of them are continuing to train while they wait, to hone their skills, to watch old tapes of their performances and to figure out how to improve.

I’m a sports fan.  I’m not sure I’m the stereotypical fan, but I am a fan.  I don’t have one absolute favourite sport I follow, but I do appreciate sport and the athleticism and commitment it takes to be at the top of one’s game.  I love watching playoffs in almost any sport and when the Olympics are being broadcast, I’m a fan of everything.

I’ve coached quite a few teams over the years.  I didn’t ever start out as an expert, and truth be told, I never finished as an expert either.  But whether coaching soccer, cross country, basketball or track and field, I loved taking coaching courses and certifications, and I loved to learn not only about the game but about what made the players tick.

One part of coaching that is always challenging is assessing which players to have on the court, field, or track at any given time.  The coach needs to be able to figure out which players are ‘on their game’, which ones play well together on a lineup, which ones needs a little pep talk or reminder of a play, and which players need to sit on the sidelines for a bit.   In my experience, no player liked the sideline, but most of them benefited from it at some point.

The reasons for taking a player out of a game, for sidelining them, can be complex.  But really, it boils down to this:  if a player is unable to execute what the coach has asked for and what the team needs, they are asked to step away from the game,  figure out what adjustment needs to be made to their play, and then wait to get back in for another chance.   This happens in all sports, to all players.  Sometimes it is the coach who has the advice the player needs, other times the player uses their introspection to figure things out for themselves.  The great players are able to make such adjustments quickly and without taking things too personally.

When I was coaching and would remove a player from play, before returning them to the activity, I’d check to make sure they had figured out what they needed to know to be more successful the next shift.  The goal was always to have the player re-enter the game feeling like they could be more successful, and that they had more insight into their own game.  It’s never nice to be on the sidelines, but there is nothing quite as sweet as returning to a game feeling, and playing with more confidence and purpose.

These days, we’ve all been moved to the edges of the game we love, the game of life.  We’ve been taken out of our game, and are stuck on the sidelines watching.  We watch through Zoom, through Facetime, through television, videos, YouTube and any other form of visual medium available.  Most of us want to shout, ‘Put me in, coach!  I’m ready to go back.’  Unfortunately, while soon we will likely be put back into the game, this is one time the coach is not going to tell us what to do when we do go back.   That would be far too easy.  Oh, we will have ‘coaches’ tell us some of the mechanics we will need; things like how many people can be in a restaurant at a time, whether to wear a mask or not, when it might be safe to hug and when we can gather to watch professional sports.  But the real learning will come from within each of us.  As we sit on our sideline, we each have some soul searching to do to decide what our game will look like when we re-enter.  We each need to figure out if what we were doing pre-pandemic was working best for our own game.

There is very little I have liked about the restrictions we have all faced during this pandemic.  I do appreciate the need for the restrictions, and I have been very willing to be compliant.  But I don’t like it.  What I have come to appreciate, though, is the time I’ve had to sit on the sidelines, to think about my game, and to decide which parts of it I’m happy with, and which parts need some adjustment.  I’ve had time to think about which line I play best on, and which line I really don’t need to play on at all.  I’ve had time to think about how my actions impact others, either helping them with their game, or not.  I’ve had time to think about the impact others have on me.  I’ve had time to think about the position I’ve been willing to play, and whether I want to try out for a new position or keep the one familiar to me.  I’ve had time to think about what I will be saying yes to, and what things I can leave for others.

Players have to trust coaches to put them back in to the game at the right time. Right now, while we say, ‘Put me in Coach!’, we also know our sitting time might last a bit longer.  When we do get the tap on the shoulder, may each of us be ready to return to play our best game.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Where does this fit in my best game?’

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. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to maximize your time on the sideline.
 

All week long, windows have been entering conversations and showing up in my life.  For me, this is always an invitation to take a closer look.  Usually I can easily see what I’m meant to see.  I’m going to have to sort through my experiences with windows to see if there is something there for me.
 
Initially, windows surfaced in conversation was when I was talking to my mom, early in the week.  She broke her hip in late January, had a major surgery to repair it, and was discharged from the hospital just days before the Covid 19 pandemic hit Canada with its force.  Since then, she’s been at home, on the farm.  My sister, Shelley, stops by each day for several hours to help her out, and one of my brothers brings in food and treats on the weekend and has an appropriate physically-distanced visit in the back yard with her.  The rest of us visit by phone.  Other than a very few other people stopping by, this has been her life for months. 

When I was talking to her this week I asked jokingly, ‘Did you do anything wild this week?’  She replied, ‘Well, I did! I went to Shopper’s Drug Mart with Shelley.  I stayed in the car while she went inside.’

My mother is a person, who, if she was in her normal life, would not even mention this trip to Shopper’s Drug Mart as an outing.  She is an active woman and her outings usually involve going to the YMCA for exercise class, attending book club or bridge, walking with a friend or driving to my sister’s place for a visit.  And yet, this week, Shopper’s Drug Mart made the cut.

Mom and I talked about how uplifting even a little drive like this could be.  She talked about how nice it was to watch out the window as they drove, seeing the countryside as it has made its usual transition to spring.  That little window of the car, gave her a view to the bigger world; one she has been missing.  It allowed her to see possibilities.  It filled her mind with some new thoughts for awhile. 

I’ve also been talking about windows with several friends lately.  All of us are parents with grown children, some of us are grandparents.  Each conversation has swerved into someone mentioning how almost unbearable it is to see their children and grandchildren through windows, and not be able to be near them.  All of us have seen pictures on the news of families visiting seniors through windows at seniors’ centres.  While the television or Facebook version of this gives the appearance of being heartwarming, what we don’t see is the tears after the visits.  We don’t see the heartbreak caused by the pane of glass separating loved ones. 

No amount of ‘think of what people went through in war time’ helps this.  The window feels like the bars of a jail cell, and we are the captives.  In the end, of course, we all agree; while our hearts hurt not to be able to have our normal interactions with our family, having the memory of the view from the window is well worth the heartache we might feel and is a great reminder of what will await us when the restrictions are lifted.

Kaitlyn, our daughter and a teacher, has been online teaching through the pandemic.  She was invited to her school on Thursday afternoon.  They had organized a ‘parade’ to acknowledge the final day of work for several of the support workers and the librarian.  Students and their families were invited to make signs, decorate their cars and ‘parade’ past the school to wish these staff members farewell.  The teachers were to socially distance outside the school, on the parade route, so the students could see the staff, and the staff could wave to the kids.  I’m guessing it was joyful, and uplifting, and heartbreaking and sad; feelings we have each experienced in these last few months.  Windows give us room for all of those feelings.

Windows allow us to see in, and to look out.  They let us take time to think about things inside ourselves; our thoughts, feelings and dreams.  They give us the room to have new ideas, see comforting faces, create new dreams, and take our minds off our daily, predictable routine. 

All my thinking about windows this week, reminds me we are always in choice.  Windows, that can be seen as jail bars, can also be seen as protection, and as portals to incredible views.  When I get stuck this week, I may take a little drive and look out the window.  I may even spot a Shopper’s Drug Mart!

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How am I viewing my window?’
​
Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching, and a pretty decent window cleaner.  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. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to maximize the view from your window.

School may not be in session right now, but there certainly is no shortage of new vocabulary to learn.  Several months ago, I wasn’t familiar with Covid, social distancing or physical distancing.  Personal protective equipment was ‘a thing’, but not really for the general masses.  Quarantine was a familiar word, but more as a concept than a lived-experience.   Definitely, most of us were not uttering the buzz phrase ‘new normal’ multiple times each day. 

New normal.

I’m hearing this expression over and over and over again.  It has a certain feeling about it.  It’s as if whatever we are going to be experiencing in the near and medium-near future, will not be what we are experiencing now.  And to add to its already loaded meaning, it sure doesn’t sound like it’s something we should be looking forward to. 

I’m not quite sure why, so I’ve spent some of my ‘walking time’ this week pondering exactly what it might mean to be headed toward a new normal.

My first thought is if we are going to have a new normal, then we must have an old normal, and perhaps we are living in a current normal.  The problem is, there has never really been a time in history, either in the history of the world, or in any of our personal life history, when we could definitively say, ‘This is the time of normal.’  This is the point in time when everything is going exactly to plan.  Everything is stable; so stable so as to define it as normal.  If there has been such a time, I missed it.

I too, am concerned about how we are going to transition into our next phase of the Covid 19 pandemic. I’m not sure how it will look as small and large businesses begin to re-open, as we are loosed from the social restrictions we now face, as we begin to re-gather in groups both large and small, as we learn to hear a cough without feeling a sense of panic, as we pass people on walks or in the aisles of grocery stores without either yielding a wide berth or making a judgement on their lack of doing so.

I’m not sure exactly which day I will feel perfectly confident that we can get together with our children and with little Benjamin, without any of us going home fearing we may have inadvertently infected each other.  When Greg and Cara moved to Calgary last Fall, Jim and I were so excited that after nine years of Greg living in another city, and four more before that stretch, we would now be able to spend special family times with them.  So far, Jim’s birthday has come and gone, as has Easter, our anniversary, and Kaitlyn and Matt’s birthdays.  This weekends Mother’s Day isn’t likely to boast a crowded dining room table either.  I guess this is our current normal.  Because this same situation is playing out in every family across the country, we are all likely wondering this:  If this is our current normal (and it’s not that nice), how bad will the impending new normal be?!

With Mother’s Day weekend approaching, I pondered this idea of new normal and I’ve had some clarity.  When we were expecting our first baby, Kaitlyn, we had absolutely no idea what was ahead of us.  Of course, we read what experts were saying on the matter. We tried to envision what our home and my work life might be like.  I thought I understood what my relationship with Jim would be like, and what my friendships would be like.  I suppose we were imagining we were going to lose our normal life and we were trying to conjure up our new normal. 

Interestingly, other women who were having babies at or around the same time were also having similar thoughts.  They could no more imagine their futures, than could I.  Each of us was given a different baby.  Some were great sleepers, some wouldn’t nurse, some were colicky, some smiled early and often, some made strange, some walked early, some we thought might never walk.  Each of us lived a ‘new normal’.  None of us questioned it.  None of us expected the others to have an experience exactly like ours.  We all simply assumed that our lives would change, and we would adapt to manage it.  And we did.

When we were expecting Greg, we went through the same thing.  I even recall crying, wondering if it was fair to bring a baby into the world who I incorrectly imagined I could never possibly love as much as I loved our firstborn.  I was terrified of what our new normal might be.  Luckily, within seconds of meeting Gregory, our new normal was better than we ever could have dreamed.

If we flash forward about 18 – 20 years, it would be safe to say we not only adapted, we may have overachieved.  I haven’t met many parents who found the transition of their children growing up and moving out and on to be an easy one.  Yet if our pre-children life was our ‘normal’ one, one would think it would be the easiest transition in the world to go back to living life as we did pre-kids.  If someone gave me the chance to go back to my ‘normal’ life, my pre-children life, I would never even consider it.  The gifts I received in my ‘new normal’ far exceeded any ‘normal’ life I had once loved.

I suspect our ‘new normal’ with this pandemic will bring us similar unexpected, unplanned, unforeseen, un-read-about, unpredicted blessings.  While I fully understand that those families who have lost a loved one during the pandemic will never find a new normal to replace the life lost, I’m hopeful that for the rest of us, our new normal will be so incredible we will never wish to go back to ‘normal’.  I already see signs of this.  People have slowed down and genuinely want to have little conversations with each other.  People have begun to open up with their feelings, instead of hiding behind the endless busyness of our ‘normal’ lives.  We are doing some deep thinking about what is important to us, and about how we want to spend our precious time.  We are reconnecting with old passions and hobbies.  We are noticing nature.  We see and hear more beautiful musical and artistic creations.  We are discovering we are more alike than different. 

I would like nothing more than to be able to gather my family around me, to be able to book a flight to a dream destination, to dance with my dancing sisters, or to stop in at a store for just one single item.  But I will wait. I will be happy to wait if it means that the new normal I’ll find when the waiting is over is half as wonderful as the new normal I found when my waiting to be a mother was realized.  As I recall, that waiting seemed endless too.

This week, may you find peace in whatever new normal arrives in your life.

​Happy Mother's Day.

My inquiry for you is, ‘What is normal?’

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. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to embrace your new normal.
 
 

This week I’m in quarantine.  The real quarantine. Not self-isolation, not physical distancing, not wear a mask and wash my hands.  Quarantine.  I’m awaiting my call from AHS with the results of my Covid-19 test.

Don’t panic just yet.  I’m pretty sure I’ll be Covid free.  But I’ve been fighting a bug for months and my doctor suggested doing this test to at least eliminate this possibility.  I’ve mentioned that if I do have Covid 19, I will likely be given the dubious title of patient zero.  I will also go down in history as having the longest ever case of it!  Luckily, our province has set up an environment whereby testing is easy.  I’ll rest easier once I get my results, but in the meantime, I’ll be grateful to be able to have had testing.

Over the past couple of months, I’ve been captivated by some of the emerging leaders in our country.  Not only am I thankful for the leadership they provide, I also find myself observing the traits they exhibit that make them so effective in their roles.   I’m trying to figure out how to incorporate their qualities into my personal life.

The leaders I find myself most drawn to are the ones leading with calm, accurate information.  They don’t waste time casting blame and pointing fingers.  They look at the most current data, make calculated decisions based on the best data they have at the moment, and put a plan in place.  They somehow manage to do this with a sense of warmth and compassion.   In Alberta, the leader doing this is Dr. Deena Hinshaw, our chief medical officer of health.  To increase her effectiveness even further she follows her planning and execution with clear and thoughtful communication of the plan. It is so much easier to get people on board when we understand why we are being asked to do something.  When things are simply mandated, without explanation, it’s easy to get our hackles up and want to push back; just because we can.  The second thing Dr. Hinshaw and her team are doing, and this is the one I’m practicing on myself, is, once the plan is executed, they do not assume the work is done and move on.  Instead, being competent leaders, they look at the impact of the plan, they look at the new data arising, and then they go back to step one, once again to look at the new most current data, make a calculated decision, put a plan in place, observe the impact and results, and repeat.

I think a mistake many of us make is to implement a new habit or routine or rule, and then forget to check back in after a certain time to see if we are obtaining the results we had hoped for.

This week in Alberta, Dr. Hinshaw, is making several significant changes to the rules restricting Albertans.  The first is, in light of the horrific flooding in Fort MacMurray, she lifted social distancing measures to allow the citizens of that city, and other volunteers, to work effectively together to sandbag critical areas of the city and to distribute emergency supplies.  I haven’t heard one single person (mind you, if you recall, I AM inside my house and get all news from television) complain that this isn’t fair.  No one is saying that if the residents of Fort Mac can have this measure removed, so should we all. 

The measure in Fort MacMurray is caused by a new emergency that in effect trumps the Covid19 emergency.  It is a completely different situation than the rest of us are dealing with.  Residents of our province easily understand that it needs different measures until the crisis passes. But there is a second changing measure that is even more incredible.  This change is being implemented in a place where no new emergency exists.  This is in our senior’s residences.  These places have been the hardest hit by the pandemic.  The combination of a vulnerable population, and the close quarters in which they live have provided the ingredients for the perfect storm.  It surely has been storming inside those residences.

It made perfect sense to lock down these facilities, to control who goes in, and to control the movement of the residents within.  And yet this week, Dr. Hinshaw announced she is changing protocol.  She, and her team, noticed an unintended consequence of the plan they implemented.  Even though their plan was based on the best data they had, they are observing recently that the isolation measures are taking too great a toll on this already vulnerable population.  Instead of stubbornly sticking to the original plan, new measures will allow for some restricted visiting, albeit outside, limiting visitors, observing the two-metre rule, and wearing masks. 

I could jump for joy seeing this kind of leadership at work.  And as I jump, I have time to wonder how effective I am implementing this kind of leadership in my own life.  How often do I make a plan, implement it, and just stubbornly see it through to the end, without stopping to observe whether it is actually the most effective plan, or if it is having consequences I never imagined or intended.

Species that do the best at surviving and thriving, are those that learn to adapt to changing environments and conditions.  At the beginning of this pandemic, I used one of my tried and true coping strategies: make a list, start on the list, check off items, complete the list.  That worked fairly well for about two weeks.  The third week, my excitement was slipping.  So, I copied my list onto a new sheet of paper.  I assumed a fresh sheet of paper meant a fresh start for me!  It didn’t help.  I had to take a minute and notice which parts of my plan were working and which needed a few tweaks.

Over the past 5 weeks, I’ve learned something.  I’m ok with a slower pace and a shorter list.  I would NEVER have believed this a few months ago.  My life was filled with go, go and more go.  Because I was comfortable with that, I liked it.  The new pace of my life reminds me of driving through a playground or school zone.  In playground zones, I’m forced to slow down so I will more likely notice and react to unexpected situations – children crossing the road, balls rolling onto the street, kids swerving on their bikes etc.  Chances are, if I didn’t have to slow down by law, I would continue to drive through these zones at my usual clip, and while I hope I’m a careful enough driver not to do any lasting damage, I suspect I would miss a lot.  I notice more when I drive slowly.  And I smile more at the little kids playing there.

So too with this enforced slow down on my life.  My whole life has become a playground zone and my latest plan involves going slower and being more observant.  In doing so I notice new things. I like to think I took a page from Dr. Hinshaw’s book, observed the results of my initial plan, gathered new data, made a new plan and put it in place.  As I move at my new, possibly temporary, pace, I’m trying to notice the impact it’s having on me and others.  I’m almost enjoying pretending to be a mini Dr. Hinshaw as I carefully gather scientific evidence of my new strategy.  I can only hope to have her grace in being willing to notice when my actions and behaviour are not effective in helping me move toward becoming who I hope to be.

Thanks Dr. Hinshaw.   You’re keeping us safe and teaching us grace.  We’re lucky to have you.  I’m hoping we will come out of this pandemic not only more grateful for our excellent health care system, and those who work in it, but also with a new template for how we can each be effective leaders.

My inquiry for you this week is ‘What would Dr. Hinshaw do?’

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. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to fine tune your leadership skills.