We live close to the Bow River, the beautiful meandering river that runs through the heart of Calgary.  In our end of town, there is a double bridge over the river.  Kaitlyn, Matt and the boys live on one side and we, along with Greg and Cara, live on the other.   This spring the east bound bridge needs to be replaced.  This means the bridge normally meant for westbound traffic will now have one lane used for each direction, and the on and off ramps will be completely re-figured, likely several times, as the work progresses over the next eighteen months or so.  Since I use that road quite a few times each week, when I head out in the car, I remind myself to pay attention – to the new signs, the new traffic patterns, the many construction vehicles and the workers. 

I had a similar experience on the hiking trail this week.  Whereas last week challenged us with wind and a bit of instability in the form of snow, this week was all about rushing water.  The heavy rainfall we had for two days on the long weekend caused some snow-melt, and that, coupled with the rain itself, meant water was just streaming off the foothills and mountains.  When the regular stream beds couldn’t hold the water, it just overflowed and found the path of least resistance.  Often, that was the path we were meant to be hiking on.  It would travel along our path until it could find its way back to the well-worn stream.  Many times, we were walking along and suddenly the trail turned into a stream, causing us to take a little, or bigger, detour.  We had to pay close attention to the water.  Whereas a couple of weeks ago we could have crossed almost any stream, this week the rushing water was far too dangerous.  In places where we found flooded pathways, there too we had to pay attention.  Sometimes a log someone had thrown across a waterway looked tempting, but we had to remind ourselves about how slippery those logs could be.  It was the same thing with the rocks.  Some were stable but others were just welcoming us to turn an ankle. 

Even though there was no reason for us to get ourselves in any serious trouble, we have all done enough hiking to know it only takes one minute of a wandering mind.  Pay attention, pay attention, I would remind myself. 

After I came home from Tuesday’s Trek, and all week as I’ve driven over the under-construction road, spent some time with Ben, done sewing, visiting and many other weekly things, I’ve been thinking about paying attention.  More specifically, I’ve been thinking about what I pay attention to.  And what I want to pay attention to.  And in fact, what it means to pay attention.

One definition of Pay is:  to give, offer, or make freely or as fitting.

When I think of this definition, I realize there is an inherent value in paying attention.  Perhaps this is why we feel so valued when someone pays us attention.  When someone freely gives of their time, time they could choose to use on anything in the world, to focus on us or what we are saying or doing, we feel seen and valued. 

When I think of people I know who make me feel better simply because I have been with them, I know what it is they have done to make me feel so.  They have paid me, freely given me, their attention.  We pay to show something has value to us.  When we pay attention, we acknowledge the thing on which we focus our attention, has value.

This week I’ve heard from a couple of students I taught years ago.  Those conversations have caused me to think back on my teaching career and about some of the things students have told me meant the most to them.  Most have never chosen my enthralling lessons on factoring, although I must say…..  Almost every one of them has remembered a conversation we have had together.  Each of them says, “I’ve never forgotten when you told me….”  The truth is, I can almost never remember the words I said.  What I now understand is that the reason the words have stuck with them is because they came wrapped with a feeling that they were being paid attention.  They, being young teenagers, were being listened to and valued. 

Each of us has a limited amount of attention we can offer each day, each week, each month, each lifetime.  It is a precious, often overlooked, commodity.   I am trying to be mindful of where I place my attention.  I still need to pay attention to simple things like traffic signs and rushing rivers.  But when my focus does not have to be on those, I’m carefully choosing things, activities and people on which I’m want to pay attention.  I understand how valuable it is, and how literally a few seconds of well or poorly placed attention can have a lasting impact.  Just as people notice when we pay them attention, they also notice when we do not.

There is a delightful flipside of paying attention.  Whereas in other areas of our life, when we pay, we end up with less, with attention, when we pay, we often end up with more.  More understanding, more compassion, more collaboration, more cooperation, more rich relationships, and more love. 

My inquiry for you this week is, “What am I paying attention to?”
​
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 pay attention.
 
 
 

I’ve had a couple of rough roads to navigate this past week.  Some of them literal, some more of the proverbial type.  Either way, they’ve given me pause.  Pause to think about how I behave when I encounter a rough road in my life.

On Tuesday, the day of Tuesday Treks, Brenda and I let our enthusiasm lead the way.  Just a couple of days earlier, the first set of road barriers were lifted from the highway we use to access the trailheads, giving us access to hundreds of more hiking choices.  Each year in Alberta, many of the secondary roads leading through the foothills into the mountains are closed for a number of months in the winter to protect the wild animals.  Some still remain closed and will do so until June 15.  But the one blocking access on the road we most often use, was opened on the 15th of this month.
 
During the winter months this doesn’t really impact us – the hiking trails would have far too deep snow on them for any hiker to navigate.  At this time of year, the warmer days show up and the trails lose much of their snow.  We were thrilled to try a different route.  Brenda had hiked Prairie Mountain previously and had told me of the spectacular views from the top.  So even though we heard the prediction of ‘strong gales of wind possible’, and ‘chance of precipitation, especially at higher elevations’ we looked back on our string of absolutely perfect Tuesdays, drew a completely non-scientific conclusion that this one would be no different, and decided to head out early to avoid those slight deterrents!

Before you reach the non-scientific conclusion that we are careless hikers, let me assure you, we are not.  We did understand the weather, we were prepared (mostly), and we did have a good escape plan.  Even with all of this, I was still surprised at the ground conditions in which we found ourselves.  I had downloaded the map, and Brenda had mentioned the first three kilometres were a very steady climb.  Noting the elevation gain I’d seen on the map, I thought I was good to go.  However, just steps off the trailhead, we found ourselves on rocky ground, climbing and climbing.  There was no ice or snow, but there were endless rocks and boulders to navigate and we really had to work (and huff and puff) to make the climb.  We had no sooner finished patting ourselves on our backs for how our hiking over the winter had improved our fitness for this challenge, when an ‘older’ man, and his dog, Bobo, breezed right on past us!

The wind at the top was brutal.  Snow had begun to fall and there was only the faintest outline of what must have been a spectacular mountain vista.  We paused only long enough for a couple of photographs, and to reunite with Bobo, who delighted in stealing our hats and mittens.  We had chosen a less steep descent and thought once we were in the safety of the trees, we would feel less of Mother Nature’s impact.  We had not banked on the amount of snow and ice still in the forest, so we found ourselves on dangerous footing coming down.  About a third of the way down, the forest floor cleared making the hiking much easier.  Except for a few terrifying gusts of wind, this part was a breeze (so to speak).

In hiking as in life, there is no avoiding rough roads. 

The question is, how do we deal with them?  On Tuesday, we did a good job of preparation.  However, even with that, we were not able to accurately predict the exact nature of the roughness of the road.  We both own two different sets of crampons, grips for our boots.  Both of us left them in the car.  On purpose.  We had not anticipated the snow and ice in the forest.  Those would have been incredibly useful.  They wouldn’t have made the descent shorter or less ice covered, but they would have given us some extra confidence.

On Wednesday, I had a rough road of a very different nature to navigate, and on Thursday, yet a different one again.  Wednesdays came in the form of a challenging decision and follow up set of actions I carried out on behalf of the Board of Directors of the charity I work with.  Thursdays came in the form of a diagnosis of someone I dearly love. 

If we choose to live a life that includes adventures, passions, meaningful work, cherished friends and family, we are very likely also doing so with the understanding we will encounter some rough roads.  Even those who chose to narrow their scope of life to just a few walls and less encounters with the world, cannot escape the rough road.

This week I was reminded of a few things about how to manage rough roads.  First, take your grips; don’t leave them in the car.  While hiking, the grips give us a firm foothold.  So too in life.  In real life it’s our values that keep us grounded.  Our values of course are our template for our life.  They inform each step and rarely lead us off track.  Let them be our solid foundation.  In addition, each of us have things in our backpack we keep for ‘just in case’. Take them out and use them.  Call a friend, wear a power suit, do your homework, be prepared, turn on your four-wheel drive, treat yourself to your favourite music or food.  Do whatever little thing is required to help you get a good grip on the rough road. 

Second, talk and listen.   On the trail we talk to make sure we let the bears and cougars know we are nearby, and we watch for signs they are nearby.  When times get tough in life, it’s good to talk to sort out our thoughts, and we need to listen for subtle things that might keep us out of danger or make our travels easier.

Third, look for Bobo.  Bobo was the dog who passed us on our ascent.  We met him and his owner at the top where Bobo happily stole Brenda’s hat and my gloves.  We laughed so hard we almost…. sorry, too much information.  Bobo is everywhere.   When we can find the humour in a situation, it really helps distract us from the rough road.

Finally, after we have created a foundation of our values, used the right gear, and leaned on our friends and family, and found Bobo, we might need to reach inside ourselves and ask if we are willing to stay on the rough road.   Brenda and I could have turned back.  However, we knew there was a view up ahead we wanted to see.  Even when we realized there would be no view that day, we still wanted the feeling of the view; we wanted the feeling of accomplishment, of completion, and of sharing the journey.   Sometimes when we reach inside ourselves, instead of saying, ‘You can do it’ (which is a really good thing to say!), we might instead ask ourselves, ‘Who am I becoming?’

Every rough road gives us a chance to become who we strive to be.  It’s really tough during the huffing and puffing part to remember this.  But the more we practice, the more we gain confidence to know each rough road we navigate, smooths the next one just a bit. 

I wish for you smooth travels this week.  I also know, I’ve found some of the best views after navigating some very tough roads.   

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Who am I becoming?’
​
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 navigate rough roads.

This week I posted some pictures on Facebook with this little write up:

I was thinking about my Dad on today’s Tuesday Trek. If he were alive, we’d be celebrating his 91st birthday today. My Dad used to call me Littlebit. It was my brother, Daniel, who started this. He couldn’t quite manage Elizabeth when he was learning to talk. So, today’s Tuesday Trek is entitled Littlebit. Littlebit of cloud, littlebit of sun, littlebit of snow, littlebit of rain, littlebit of mud, littlebit of slipping, littlebit of melting, littlebit of a fresh cougar kill, littlebit of laughing, littlebit of storytelling and a lotabit of friendship. Dad would have loved it. Thanks for the great day Brenda and Penny!

I always try to post a few pictures of our Tuesday hikes.  They are such an important part of my week.  When I posted those few words along with the pictures this past week, I had no idea they would resonate with so many people.  I’ve been thinking about the original words and about the messages people have sent me as they’ve pondered little bits of their own lives.  And because I’ve had the memory of Littlebit, and the idea of little bits, running through my mind all week, I thought I’d share a little bit more.

I have some ‘bone on bone’ arthritis happening in my knee.  It’s not the first place this has shown up in my body and I doubt it will be the last.  Luckily there are some good people who know more than me about how to deal with it.  When I was at the Knee Clinic last year, they suggested an injection of Hyaluronic Acid might really help me so I tried it out last July.  I was shocked at what a positive difference it made.  About a month ago, my knee started talking to me and I knew it was time for another injection, and that is how I found myself at my appointment with Dr Johnson up at Winsport for another injection.  Dr Johnson uses ultrasound and a little bit of freezing to place the Hyaluronic Acid in just the right spot.  The material in the injection forms a cushioning between the two bones.  It fills the spot where healthy fluid once was.  It stops the bones from rubbing on each other and reduces the pain.  This little bit of gel is a life changer. 

I’ve since been imagining the gel between the bones.  If this is all it takes to stop the friction between two bones rubbing on each other, I wonder how little it might take us to stop friction in other places in our lives. What little bit might we try to make a big difference?

I was glad I’d received the injection when Greg texted to ask if I had a little bit of time for a bike ride this week.  A lot of stars had to align; Greg had very rare time off mid-week, the mid- May weather was warm enough, the loop I’ve longed to do for years, Lake Minnewanka Loop, was closed to traffic and free of snow, and I had a new bike to try out!  Yes!  I had a little bit of time! Needless to say, I left a list a mile long on my desk at home, but I reminded myself that in 20 years, the time Greg and I spent together, while just a little bit on the timeline of life would be a cherished memory.

I’m finding my life is made up of many little bits these days.  I never have a day when I wake up wondering what I might do.  I always have more items on my mind than time in my day.  I’ve been seeing more of little Ben, trying to help out his mom as she cares for newborn Andy.  Some days when I don’t have as much time, I wonder if I can be any help at all.  Then I remember little bits, and I offer just that.  Little bits of time.  Sometimes those are the very best.  We go on a little adventure and discover something that keeps us talking and laughing for days.  These little bits of time are forging our relationship together.  I know we won’t always be lucky enough to have little bits of time during the day together.  I’m making the most of the ones we have now.

I’m doing the same with my singing and dancing and writing.  I used to like to have a good chunk of time set aside to do any of these.  Not having that time right now, I’m investing in little bits.  If I have a few minutes, I’ll head to my music and work on one song.  Or write a few lines.  Or practice a few steps.  Or stretch a few muscles.  Amazingly, often when I set out to do a little bit, it turns into more.  Either way, the little bits add up.  And it turns out I’m not only investing in little bits, but also in Littlebit herself.

That’s the way it is with little bits.  Often, they seem insignificant.  Sometimes they are such small bits they don’t even seem worth considering; things like texts, smiles, listening, noticing, complimenting.  But when we remember to adjust our focus just a little bit, so the picture of life becomes clear, we can usually see that adding little bits (or sometime backing off a little bit) can make the picture of our life so much more vibrant.

When my dad started calling me Littlebit, it was just a nickname.  He called me this off and on throughout my life, always with those twinkling eyes of his.  Sometimes my siblings called me this too.  It was such a little thing.  And such an enormous thing.  It was a simple little fun name, and it was much, much more.  We were a big family.  There wasn’t much time for ‘one-on-one’.  So, when I would hear him say Littlebit, I felt seen.  Today, it’s a priceless memory.  I often use this name when I’m talking to myself and needing courage.  ‘Come on Littlebit, you can do it’, I whisper in my head, and I feel my Dad’s encouragment.  I’m going to continue to honour my name, doing little bits, backing off a little bit, acting with courage a little bit, and being my best Littlebit.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What little bit would help?’
​
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 little bits.
 
 

This week I got a new batch of songs to work on in my singing lessons.  I’d love to say I’ve completely mastered the four pieces I was working on.  Alas, I’ve done fine, but we’re going to put them aside for now.  The critical thing we are working on to strengthening my voice is my transition zone.  This is the place where, when I am singing, I need to transition from my lower register to my higher register.  My range is actually fine.  I can reach low notes with ease and also manage quite high notes.  My struggle is in the middle.  Carey, my vocal coach, likens it to me being a teenage boy going through a voice change!  Who knew I would be going through this after surgery?!  This is the part of my vocal chords that were damaged and this is the part we are trying to coax back.

The songs we have set aside have really stretched my capacity in this area but even with the medication I’m using to reduce inflammation, last week my voice seemed less strong than the week prior, so Carey suggested we switch it up and try a couple of songs in my easy-to-sing zone.  So, this week James Taylor and I are getting to know each other.  I’ve also heard Queen Latifa would like me to try I know Where I’ve Been from Hairspray.

Since these aren’t on Carey’s regular roster of tunes, I’ve looked up the lyrics online and then found a karaoke version in the key of the original recording to accompany me.  Once I’ve memorized the lyrics, what I find most difficult is listening to the backing music as I sing and joining in at the exact right moment.  Sometimes my timing is off and I’m a note or two early or late.  Once in a while I’m a whole line early and that throws everything off.  As I sing along, I can hear something is wrong.  This sends my mind to a place of thinking instead of singing and it takes great concentration to figure out how to get back on track.  There are times, especially in the early stages of learning a piece I simply have to stop and start again.
Timing, they say, is everything.  And when it is off, nothing feels quite right.  When timing is on, life feels good.  It’s smooth and easy.

When I was a little girl, a popular recess activity was skipping.  I remember standing, getting ready to jump in as two other girls would turn the rope.  As a beginner, I’d rock back and forth as the rope passed in front of my face and then swung around to the other side, waiting for the exact right moment to make my move. Once I figured out the timing, I could effortlessly enter the skipping zone and jump with reckless abandon, singing out the little rhyming songs we used.

Some people have incredible timing.  When they enter a room, they ‘read’ it, listen for a minute, and then use their perfect timing to seemingly effortlessly join a conversation.  Others are not so smooth.  They jump into ongoing conversations at the wrong moment, and inevitably get all tangled up in the ropes. 

That first group of people are not just blessed with good timing.  Timing is a skill.  It takes awareness, practice and sometimes even a bit of luck.  It can be learned.  It always has an impact.  Those who have great timing, have it because they have worked on it. 

In these pandemic times, Zoom makes timing more difficult.  Timing here is not quite so easy to learn.  Whereas in real life, a quick quip delivered with good timing guarantees success, on Zoom, the minuscule delay in the signal throws the timing all off.  We have to think really hard about how to enter.

This week I had a lovely moment of timing.  Baby Andy celebrated his one-month birthday and gave his parents his first smile.  The next morning, I dropped in to pick up Ben for our regular outdoor time together.  Knowing about the previous days smile, I hoped for a repeat but knew the odds weren’t great.  Often after that first smile, it takes a few days for the next ones to appear.

Luckily, I know something important about timing:  You have to be present for it to work.  You have to be tuned in – to the music, the skipping rope, the conversation, the Zoom call, the baby.  I caught Andy at a wakeful time and leaned over to talk to him.  Even though I was able to still notice and respond to Ben, I didn’t take my eyes off Andy as I smiled and talked to him.  And then it came; that precious, precious, fleeting, early smile.

I might have just been lucky but I like to think my timing was good too.

Each of us can have good timing.  It’s a skill, and like all skills it improves with practice.  First, we need to understand it is a skill that can be mastered.  Then we need to listen to our intuition and follow through.  How many times have we found ourself thinking about a friend (the intuition), and then called them only to hear them say, ‘Oh, your timing is perfect.  Talking to you is just what I needed.’  And then other times when we do not follow our intuition, we eventually catch up with them only to find out they could have stood to hear our voice earlier.

I’ve been trying to notice timing this past week.  I’m listening to hunches, paying attention and trying to jump in right after the rope passes in front of my eyes.  I’m getting out of my head and into the music.  James Taylor hasn’t called yet to invite me to do a duet, but who knows, with the right timing….

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How is my timing?’

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 master the skill of timing.
 
 

I’m a slow adopter.  Or adapter? I know for sure I’m not usually the first one to order a newly invented product, nor do I need to be the first to try a new toy, nor be the first person on the train. 

Before you jump to a false conclusion, I do like new things.  And I love new ideas, especially good ones.  I’m pretty sure the thing that holds me back is that I don’t love failure, and so it follows that I don’t want to have people watching me try out something new and fail.

Having said all that, in January, when I was in the midst of several large sewing projects, I had the idea it might be time for me to get a new sewing machine.  Keeping in mind my old Kenmore has been with me for my entire adult life, this was no small decision.  I went back and forth for quite some time and finally, toward the end of the month, when I could hear myself encouraging my machine to just sew a little bit more, I put a deposit on a beautiful new quilting machine.  The deposit was needed since the machines could be ordered but there was no guarantee as to when they might arrive.  Part of me was delighted with this. I knew if the new machine arrived when I was on a deadline with my projects, I wouldn’t have time to learn how to use it and finish the projects too.  With the delay, I could finish my projects on my comfortable machine, then learn the ins and outs of the new one.  One month turned into the next, and finally, last Saturday I got the call.  My new machine was available for pickup.

I’d had a hint the machine might be on the shipment due to arrive last week, so I spent a bit of time at the beginning of the week clearing off my sewing table and putting my old machine away.  I was making space for the new addition.  It crossed my mind as I did this that making space is my way of getting ready for new things in my life.

The sewing machine was, of course, an example of a true physical space that needed making.  If I was going to learn to use this machine (and please, may I be granted many, many more years of sewing; I’m going to need them all to figure out all the new features) I needed a space to put it.  Even before I brought the machine home on Saturday, I looked at that space every time I climbed the stairs.  It helped me get my head ready for the adjustment.  I guess I needed to be in the right head space too.

I’ve been pondering this idea of making space. 

For every single thing I have undertaken in my life, willingly or not, my first step to a successful transition has been the one where I make space.  As I mentioned before, I’m a late adopter, so when I hear about a new idea, or when I’m asked to try something new, or incorporate a change into my life, or even when I myself think of something new I could try, my tendency is to give a very quick, ‘no thanks’. 

Luckily, over the years, I’ve learned to keep my ‘no thanks’ inside my head.  I try to not let it slip out of my mouth.  What I understand is I really don’t mean ‘no’.  What I mean is ‘I just need a bit of time to make some space in my mind for the idea’.  I need to create a space for the idea to live for a while.  Then I’m usually ready.  This time is a very good friend to me.  Sometimes the time I need can be measured in a few heartbeats, sometimes in minutes, sometimes hours and sometimes even months. Sometimes after I ponder for awhile, I recognize the idea or change will not be a good fit for me and I can easily say no to it.  But if I say no too quickly, I close my self off to the possibility of a wonderful opportunity. 

About three years ago I texted my friend, Rhonda to ask if she wanted to join me for a once-a-week bike ride.  I was training for my first Gran Fondo, the Sea-to-Sky Fondo from Vancouver to Whistler, BC.  When I had the idea to text Rhonda, I didn’t do it right away.  First, I needed to make space.  I knew she had a bike but I had no idea if she was up for a long-distance challenge.  I needed space for the courage to reach out, not having clue if she might be interested.  I needed space to understand this meant a commitment to the race.  I needed space to allow myself to believe in my ability.  I needed space to set aside one day each week to train with her.  I needed space to know I could be turning a friendship into a much closer friendship. 

I don’t remember exactly how long it took me to create my space for this.  I know it was longer than a few heartbeats but shorter than a month.  I’m guessing Rhonda is not quite as slow an adopter as am I for her response was quick and certain.  YES! Came the immediate text back.

I can’t imagine how less rich my life would be now if I had had the thought to text Rhonda and then had discounted it before I let the idea come to life.  If we don’t make space for things in our lives, we are choosing for them not to have the chance to fit.  We are discounting them before they have even the slimmest chance to form into something wonderful, or valuable, or meaningful, or fun.   

Clearly, sewing machines are easy to make space for.  Other things, things like new ideas, new people, new skills, new attitudes, new activities, new adventures, new mindsets and new stages of life, take a little more finesse.  And yet, the concept is identical.

This week, I’m practicing making and noticing space.  When I care for Ben, I make space for our relationship – these early years build our foundation.  When Greg found a new road bike for me to go look at, I made space for us to go see it together and also for us to spend time outdoors this summer doing something we love.  When I noticed the nice weather might take a pause on the weekend, I made space for an early outdoor birthday celebration for Kaitlyn and Matt.  When Brenda and I were out on our bikes, instead of on foot for our Tuesday Trek, we made space to try to conquer a hill that had, only a week before, looked impossible.  When I texted with my friend, Al, this week, after not being in touch for a few months, we both made space for the importance we have in each other’s lives.

This week, a lot of my time has been spent with little Ben and not a lot has been spent sitting at my new machine.  I have however, set it up, figured out how to thread it, and have sewn a straight line.  When I start to think I’ll never figure out all the features, I take a beat, pick one little thing I think I can make space for, and march ahead.  For the record, I’m already planning my next quilt.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What am I making space for?’
​
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 make space.