Next Friday, in any normal year, would be an important day in the City of Calgary.  The first Friday of July always marks the start of the famous Calgary Stampede.  The kickoff to the Stampede is the Stampede Parade.  It’s an event attended by hundreds of thousands of locals and tourists.  It’s jam packed with an incredible variety of participants, from floats, to horses, to horse drawn carriages, to marching bands, to cultural groups, youth groups and dancing groups.  Our dancing group, the Chinook Country Dancers has been a mainstay for many years.  Since I joined the dance group five years ago, the Stampede Parade has been one of my favorite events. 

Alas, the Stampede parade, along with almost all other major events in our city, our country and even our world, have been paused until at least next year.  To say I’ve been longing to put on my red shirt, black skirt and dancing boots, would be an understatement.  I think all the girls in our group are still checking their messages for the one that says, “You won’t believe it but the parade is ON!”  We know it can’t happen, but we long for it just the same.

As I was checking my emails for the fabled one from the Stampede Parade, I noticed an email from our friend, Annie.  Annie’s husband, Herb, and I started teaching on the same day, at the same school.  Herb was teaching music.  He was to be the new band director for students from grades six to nine.  I was the new math teacher.  One would think this would be an unlikely combination for a friendship, but here we are, thirty-nine years later.  I still have such a profound respect and admiration for this man.  I have been very, very lucky to have crossed paths with Herb.  We didn’t teach together for all of those years.  About half way through his teaching career, Herb shook our school community to its core when he announced he was moving to a different school, one in High River.  The man who taught right across the hallway from me for the first half of my career, left a quietness behind him that could not be filled.  We filled the band room again with several wonderful instructors, but the Herb part was irreplaceable.  In a wonderful little happenstance of life, years later, my daughter got her first teaching assignment at Herb’s new school and she taught several years with him. 

Annie’s email was to let me know that Herb was retiring this year, and she was organizing a surprise event to mark the occasion.  It was to begin with a parade in High River and end with a get-together at their art studio.  I had plans to watch Ben on Friday, and knew the get-together would not work for us.  But I could easily drive to High River with Ben and safely be a part of the retirement parade. 

As I thought about my upcoming outing, I spent some time thinking about ‘lessons’ Herb taught me.  He didn’t know he was teaching me.  Herb is just one of those people who always shows up as the best version of himself.  What Herb taught me about life comes in handy these days.  I don’t know how Herb became wise.  I do know he was wise when I met him, and he is wiser still today.  Herb has always understood, and lived with, the belief that there is just as much life to be enjoyed leading up to the ‘big moments’ as there is in being present for those big moments.  Herb brought the same amount of enthusiasm to washing the gym floor as he did to conducting the concert band at the year end concert.  I never knew Herb to rank things, nor did he rank people.  He didn’t seem to think one job, or one person deserved more status than the next.  Whoever was in Herb’s presence was the most important.  Period.

Of all the things Herb taught me, the thing I value the absolute most is that I could, and can, count on Herb to be Herb.  He is one hundred percent himself all of the time.  He is joyful, hard-working, smart, talented, inclusive, understanding, fun, honest, and humble. 

On Friday morning, Jim blew up balloons, and I wrote messages on my car with erasable markers.  We found some streamers to bring along to help attach the balloons.  We tried to explain the idea of a parade to Ben, who of course is far too young to understand. 

Parades are designed to be showpieces; they highlight the very best of cities, towns, and in this case, a person.  I’ve never seen a parade where the positive effort put forth by the participants wasn’t obvious.  Parades celebrate the best of us.   It was the absolute perfect way to provide a send off to Herb, a man who always gives the very best of himself.   I couldn’t wait to see all the different ways people would show up and show off the best of themselves for Herb.

It turned out that Herb’s surprise parade was perfect.  From the fire trucks to all the love pouring out of the rest of the vehicles, it was the perfect send-off for this very special man.

The Stampede Parade will not happen this year.  I will dearly miss it, and all of the other Stampede dance performances we usually love to participate in.  But participating in Herb’s parade has made me think.

What would it be like, I wonder, if each of us could think of our lives as a parade?  We would choose our own float, and we would choose the people to march with.  We would contemplate exactly what traits were the ones worthy of being on display.  We would show up as the best version of ourselves.  We might practice our skills and share our gifts freely with others.  We could play music that reflected our souls.  We would dress to highlight our strengths and not spend so much time worrying about weaknesses.  We could encourage our fellow parade participants to bring their best selves and we could delight in their unique gifts and talents.  There would be room for everyone.  We would wave at the spectators and invite them to join in next time.  We would have photo albums bursting with memories.  And at the end of the parade, we would be peaceful, knowing we gave our absolute best.  Just like Herb.

My inquiry for you this week is ‘How does this improve my float?’
​
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 design an inspiring float.
 
 
 

The past ten days have brought some great relief to me.  We are still in the midst of a pandemic, but some restrictions have been lifted; enough to allow my life to start to feel a bit more normal again.  Over the past days, I’ve started to be able to spend time with little Benjamin again.  After three months of only seeing one another using Facetime or Zoom, being together again is like having new life breathed into me.  We’ve had dinner with our kids.  Seeing them in person is such a joy!  There is something about the energy of live visits that cannot be replicated with technology.  I was able to spend a late sunny afternoon golfing with Jim and our friend, Jan, to celebrate her birthday.  And this week I went for a magnificent hike with my friend, Brenda.  All still taking precautions.  Yet, I feel like a new person.

For months, it is as if someone has been standing over us shouting, ‘LOOK OUT! Don’t touch that’.   ‘LOOK OUT! Don’t stand there.’  ‘LOOK OUT!’ Don’t go out.’  LOOK OUT! Don’t walk that direction.’  ‘LOOK OUT!  Don’t buy that’.  ‘LOOK OUT!  Don’t visit with them’.  ‘LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT!’

LOOK OUT! 

To quiet the voice, we stayed home, we followed the rules, we physically distanced, and we prayed it would end.  We did it because it was the right thing to do for the health of our society.  This is not, however, a recipe for a healthy life.  It was simply a diet we had to put up with for a time.  We’ll likely have to hop back on and off it a few more times before we get it figured out.  All I know is it has been so refreshing to not be bombarded with LOOK OUT! so much this week.

When Brenda and I decided to go hiking on Tuesday morning, we chose to continue listening to the LOOK OUT! warning as we drove individually to the trail head.  But once there, it was easy to slip into a comfortable two metre distance apart as we made our way up the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, and the LOOK OUT voice disappeared.  We’ve had a lot of rain this spring.  The forest is brilliantly green, the little wildflowers are bursting with bloom and the air is fresh.   The muddy ground meant we really had to watch our footing in places and we each found ourselves with a ‘soaker’ a time or two on the way.  Every once in a while, we could look away from our feet and out over the view.  ‘Look out there’, we might say.  And we would pause to take in the beauty.  When we reached the summit (for the first time, since we got a bit turned around and hit it again later!), we stopped and plopped down on the soft ground for a snack and rest.  We didn’t really have to say much.  It was perfect just to sit.  And to look out! 

Look out!

This kind of looking out felt so different, so much better than the LOOKING OUT I’ve been doing for the past three months.  As I sat with Brenda, I recognized I need this too.  I need to look out, to look outside of myself, to look toward others, toward opportunities, toward possibilities and to see a world larger than my own.  The view looking out from our little mountaintop reminded me of all the things waiting for me when the pandemic is over.  From this perspective, I could feel hope replacing some of the fear.

As we made our way back down the foothills, and we began to tire, we automatically began to recognize we had to take extra care with our steps.  It would be so easy to have a mis-step, to stumble or to fall.  If we noticed a bit of rock or rough terrain, we would remind each other gently to ‘look out’.  As my mind quieted, I also thought of how we are needed to not only warn each other to look out, but also to take it upon ourselves to look out for others.  This kind of looking out feels like a whisper to me.  It is done inside of ourselves and comes from a place of kindness and love.

When we look out in this way, we are taking a few seconds to do something to put the needs of others above our own needs.  Sometimes this takes no longer than a second.  Sometimes the effort is more sustained.  Looking out can be a phone call.  It can be a smile or a wave.  It can be noticing we haven’t seen someone in a while and checking in on them.  Looking out can be the bracelet I received in the mail from my sister; the one engraved with ‘Whenever you feel overwhelmed, remember whose daughter you are, and straighten your crown’.

Looking out can be standing up for someone who is unable to do so for themselves.  Looking out can be standing with someone.  Looking out can be listening quietly.  Looking out in this way does not give us power over someone else.  In fact, it helps leave the power with the person we are looking out for.  By looking out for others we allow them to become their very best.  We allow them to focus on blossoming. It takes nothing away from us, and adds greatly to the world. 

This week, as I’ve watched little Ben, I’ve been doing lots of looking out.  I’ve had to look out for his safety as we’ve explored new playgrounds.  But I’ve also tried to look out to see the world from his point of view.  We’ve looked out at bulldozers filling dump trucks and cranes lifting heavy loads.  I’ve loved all of it. But more than anything, I’ve loved looking out for him.  I love thinking of little invisible ways to help him feel successful, to help him feel safe and secure so he can explore his world, to feel confident, and to become himself.

The LOOK OUT!’s we’ve had during the pandemic needed to be in place.  They too, were designed to allow us to have the chance to live to experience our best lives.  Looking out from mountaintops and  from car windows allow us to see what is possible.  And gentle looking out, reminds us we are not alone on this journey and we are all better when we are each our best.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘LOOK OUT!? Look out!?  or Look out?’
​
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 look out.
 

Last week was one I dubbed, ‘The Week of Finishing’.  I’ve been working away on a few different projects over these past few months.  Last week I could see that several of them were in line to come to their conclusion.  I will NOT be saying I have been grateful for this pandemic.  However, had it not been for the time alone we were mandated, I doubt very much the finish line would be in sight for a couple of these large undertakings.

Some were easy.  I always do spring cleaning anyway, so this year I just had free time to work away at it.  While I can’t say our house is perfect, it’s certainly as perfect as it would be any other year after spring cleaning.  So that’s one.

I will whisper the following: ‘I think I have scanned the last of the photos!’  I’m whispering because I have a sneaking suspicion that when I open up my cedar chest upstairs, the one I did not spring clean, I have a feeling I may stumble upon a few straggling photos.  I’m ok with that.  The album upon albums I was trying to get through are complete.  At some point I’m going to count up all the photos, but for now let’s just say there are tens of thousands of them.  Eventually, I’ll sort through their new digital versions, discard the ones of no meaning and of poor quality, and create some meaningful books.  But not right now.  I’m totally satisfied with what I have accomplished here.

The other project I’ve been working on for the last few months is a quilt for our daughter and son-in-law, Kaitlyn and Matt.  About 5 years ago, when Kaitlyn had graduated with her B Ed degree, we celebrated by taking them on a one-day excursion to Churchill, Manitoba to see polar bears.  There is a narrow, three-week window from the end of October to mid-November when the bears gather on the shores of Hudson’s Bay, waiting for the ice to ‘come in’ so the bears can travel on it to get to their hunting grounds; the open water where they can fish for seal.  During this time, excursions are organized out of a few Western Canadian cities to travel to our majestic far north to safely observe them without disturbing them.  Out on the magnificent tundra it feels like being on safari.

As I was trying to figure out what to feature on my quilt for Kaitlyn and Matt, I realized I wanted something meaningful; something that would stir a memory.  I looked through my pictures of our polar bear excursion and found one I thought could serve as the base idea for the quilt.  Jim helped me by tracing the small picture of a mother polar bear and one of her cubs onto a piece of graph paper.  I then created a large sheet of grid paper, one the size of the finished quilt top.  I copied the design from each little square onto the big squares, transferred this onto a lightweight fabric to use to attach the material, and then set about creating.  Using hundreds of strips of coloured fabric, the bears, and then the northern lights came to life. 

I finished the top of the quilt about three weeks ago and sent it off to my quilting friend Janet, to work her magic with her long-arm.  This is a fancy machine used to quilt the top of the project to the batting in the middle and then to the backing.  Janet is incredibly creative and I was excited to see what she had in mind for my quilt.  When it arrived back to me, it did not disappoint.  Between her swirls in the sky to remind us of wind and snowflakes, to her colourful stitches to magnify the northern lights, she hit the nail right on the head.  Her quilting is magnificent and I was thrilled with the result. 

The final step to the project was to add the binding.  This is the little border that covers all the raw edges and gives the quilt a framed look.  It isn’t difficult to do binding.  I prefer to machine stitch it to the front of the quilt and then hand-sew the back using an invisible stitch.  The only little tricky part is when you attach the binding, you have to start somewhere and end back at the same spot.  This means that when you get back to the beginning, you need to tuck the raw edge of the beginning part into the ending part to hide the raw edge.  This is how I’ve always done it and it has always looked just fine.  However, I watched a little YouTube video of a method that eliminates having any tucking at all.  The binding ends up being one continuous piece that fits perfectly. 

The technique looked manageable and I thought I could do it.  The only scary part was cutting the fabric at the end.  It’s a ‘cut of faith’.  If it’s done wrong, well, I’m not sure.  I guess I’d have to start all over again.  My problem didn’t end up being the cut.  It ended up that my spacial awareness failed me and I twisted the binding when I sewed the pieces together.  Out came my stitch ripper and I tried again.  On the second attempt, I got the binding untwisted, but the length of the binding was off by just a hair.  I knew that with a little finesse, I could make it look pretty good; certainly, good enough that no one would notice.  So, I did.  The problem was I knew it wasn’t quite right.  Again, I took out the stitch ripper.  The third time was a charm.  A perfect fit.

That one hour of sewing and stitch ripping and sewing again, has given me a lot to think about this past week.  I hope that quilt brings Kaitlyn and Matt good memories for many years.  I’ll be proud of the finished product forever.  It took me less than an hour to correct my mistake, and it would have been absolutely adequate without my ‘fixing’.  I’ve been thinking about how many interactions I have had, how many little conversations, that have gone really well, but that I’ve walked away from knowing that had I spent just a few more precious minutes, could have had an even better outcome.
We all have these.  We have those meetings and conversations we come home from and when asked how they went, we reply, ‘Pretty good’.  I wonder what the answer could have been if during the interaction, we had decided to rip out a few stitches and made it clear we wanted to get things really right.  I have lots and lots of conversations that I can leave at ‘Pretty good’.  But there are some relationships, some people in my life, for whom, ‘Pretty good’ isn’t actually enough.  These people and these relationships deserve the effort it would take me to notice my miss-steps, go backward and make things right.

As our province eases some restrictions, we are going to be able to have more in-person conversations.  These, undoubtedly will be with important people in our lives who we haven’t been able to see for months.  I’m going to pack my proverbial stitch ripper with me.  After all these months apart, if I have a chance to talk in person, I want to be able to say it went better than ‘Pretty good’.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What stitches could I remove?’
​
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 become a masterful stitch ripper .
 
 

My heart has felt heavy this week.  I find it almost impossible to watch the news, and yet, I know blocking it out and pretending it’s not happening does not make me part of the solution.

For almost two weeks now, the fissures that were always present in the United States, have cracked wide open, spilling out the not-so-cleverly disguised racism that is present every day, not only in that country, but in this country and in many, many countries around the globe. They have also exposed countless examples of humanity.  Sadly, these, in no measure, overshadow the agony being experienced by millions.

I almost chose not to write a blog this week.  I am, after all, a middle-aged white woman.  I am not an expert on racism.  I have not experienced racism.  And I sometimes believe it’s important to know when to keep your mouth shut.  I had no idea what to say.  However, two small happenstances, have given me the little push I needed to not just close my proverbial door and ignore the feelings swirling inside me, but to try to sort them out for myself.  One was a post made by my friend, Gail Jacob Barker.  Gail is a fellow Leadership Coach, but this is not how I know her.  I only learned of our coaching connection when I facilitated a workshop for the Women’s Rural Resource Centre.  Gail sits on the Board of Directors of this organization.   Gail is a person of colour.  Gail is wise, thoughtful, compassionate, and has the ability to calmly sort through chaos and bring new perspectives to the light.  She’s brilliant.  Brilliant.  She wrote a wonderful piece on why it is important for white people to engage in conversations of race, and she has helped me understand how I might begin to navigate these waters.

The other nudge came from my friend, and former colleague, Norma Dogger.  Norma sent me a little message saying, ‘You may never truly know how much I look forward to your writing every week because of the profoundness and impact that it has.  Thank you, dear friend!’

So here I am again, trying to get my thoughts to make some sense. 

Before I felt the two nudges, I’d been thinking of the idea of vaccines and this pandemic; the one that has not gone away even though it has become somewhat of a sidebar on the news since George Floyd’s senseless murder, subsequent protests, and then violence, have taken its place in the headline.  So, I’m going to go back to my original thought for a minute.

In waiting out this pandemic, we hear over and over again that even though our numbers of active cases are dropping, and fewer and fewer new cases take their place, we will not be out of the crisis until a vaccine is found.  Millions of dollars are being directed toward this research and the best minds are employed on the task.  I for one, will be lining up for my dose once a safe vaccine is found. 

The way vaccines work is by training the immune system to recognize and combat pathogens.  To do this, certain molecules from the pathogen must be introduced into the body to trigger an immune response.  This is why scientists around the globe are examining this Corona virus, breaking it down and trying to figure out which specific molecules will provide the key to the vaccine.

As I’ve listened to the news this week, more than once I’ve had the thought float through my mind that we could also use a vaccine to combat racism.  At first I was thinking it should be something that protected people of colour from experiencing or feeling the impact of racism.  This of course, does not address the issue at all.  In fact, it pushes the responsibility onto someone other than me.  It’s part of the problem, this thinking is. 

As I think of how vaccines work, I think what we really need is for the rest of us, we white people and those of us with privilege, to receive the vaccine for racism.  The solution is not that the racism continues and the people affected simply become immune to the impact.  The solution is that a change happens within those of us with privilege, on a cellular level, so we immediately recognize our own behaviours and patterns of thoughts, see how they are influenced by systemic racism and consciously stop those thoughts and behaviours.  Our minds need to recognize how we contribute to this problem and how we can stop it.  If the vaccine was truly effective, over time, and it would not take long, our bodies could rest.  Our minds would no longer rush to be on high alert, defending our positions and justifying years of collective, inexcusable behaviour.  Less and less and less, would we think about racism as something that is ‘out there’; instead we would take responsibility for our part in the system we are perpetuating, and work to change it. 

When the pandemic hit Canada, I was taught what the symptoms were.  I know how to recognize it. Via news stories, I saw what it was like for the victims to fight it.  I’ve been given tools to give myself the best chance not to contract it.  More importantly, I’ve been given tools to understand how I can prevent its spread, how I can be part of the solution, and not contribute to the problem.  I know if I do this well, and for long enough, either a vaccine will be developed, or the disease will grow tired of us being so diligent and move on. 

I know what racism looks like.  I know what I feel when I witness it.  Via news stories I see what it is like for the victims to fight it.  I know there will not be a vaccine to stop it.  I also know we have every single possible solution to this within ourselves.  I for one, am looking for my own little vaccine inside of me.  I am challenging my thinking, I am reading and learning, and I am thinking of how to create ways in my daily life to become part of the solution.  I do not need an outside vaccine for any of this. 

As my friend, Gail, so eloquently said, ‘…as a white person, your voice is essential within the dialogue AND it's not the most important voice. In other words, you need to add your voice to the rallying cry, while at the same time ensuring that your voice doesn't over-ride the voices of BIPOC. You need to join the choir, and not be the soloist. Being silent makes it hard to know where you stand on the issue. Are you an ally or not?...’

It seems to me we are fighting two pandemics.  Both make it hard for people to breathe.  Both have solutions within human hands.  Neither is ‘someone else’s problem’.  I will continue learning how to add my voice, and more importantly my actions, to do my full part in irradiating both pandemics.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How am I being an ally?’

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 absolutely no expertise in immunology but she’s learning how to play her part as one person, with one voice, in this wide, multi-coloured world.  Contact Elizabeth to learn how to best play your part too.