On Monday, December 21, the day of the Winter Solstice, a beautiful star appeared in the sky.  This star, the Christmas Star, has not been seen for hundreds of years and isn’t expected to reappear for another several hundred more.  This Christmas Star is, in fact, created by the perfect alignment of two planets, Jupiter and Saturn. 

In Calgary, Alberta, on December 21, the day of the Winter Solstice, an awesome black sky shadowed the earth, dropping more than a foot of snow and blocking out the Christmas Star. 

Luckily for us, we have a weather app.  Seeing this strong storm in the forecast we knew our best chance of seeing the star would be Sunday night.  The planets would not be perfectly aligned, but still, they would be an awesome sight.  And so, it came to pass we decided to go for our first ever mountain night hike.  It did not disappoint.  

It's always magical to be hiking in the mountains, but to hike there in winter, and to hike there in the dark, under the light of the stars and moon?  It’s incredible.

As we enjoyed our evening under the stars, we could easily make out the ‘almost’ Christmas Star.  We could also see the billions of other stars comprising our milky way.  We marvelled that we had decided to leave the city to view this sight, knowing it would disappear the following evening when the snow began.

Actually, the Christmas Star did not disappear at all.  She was still shining in all her glory.  We simply did not have the advantage of being in a position to see her.  It was easy to pretend she was not there.

So it is with life.

On Monday morning, before the snow fell, I met with my former student, now friend, Kenley, to deliver a vehicle filled with Christmas gifts to a family whose child attends our former school.  That’s where I met Kenley; she as a student and I the teacher.  She and I and many other alumni continue to stay connected, and continue to do much of the local and global citizenship work we started during our time at the school.  This year, Kenley was remembering how rewarding it had been when we helped out some of the school’s families in need during the Christmas season.  She wondered if there might be a family who needed our help this year.

A few quick phone call and emails later, we had a family.  Kenley spread the word, we both collected gifts and presto, there we were with an SUV filled to the brim on Monday morning.  We had the google map instructions to the home in the country.  I had contacted the mom of the family.  Let’s call her Annie.  Annie knew we would arrive at 11 in the morning.  She was expecting a few gifts for her two boys, one who attends school, and one who is not yet school age.  We had had buckets of fun adding some extra gifts too, for the adults in the family, plenty for the boys and some gift cards to help with the extras.

We drove in tandem, each excited and nervous at once.  I don’t know what I was expecting to find, but whatever it was, it wasn’t what we found.  The humble home looked barely tall enough to stand up in.  The outside was made of plain boards of wood, covered with moss.  There was not one ounce of doubt we were at the right place. 

Annie came out to meet us immediately.  Having spoken to her on the phone, I re-introduced myself as Liz Critchley, and I introduced Kenley.   We were not wearing our masks, having chosen to stay physically distanced from each other.  I was glad the masks were off. 

Annie said to me, ‘I think I know you’.  She did have a slightly familiar look, but I couldn’t place her.  Annie said, ‘You taught me math in Junior High’.  Suddenly the light dawned.  I could place Annie.  And now, here she was again, and here I was, and here Kenley was; just three women, together on a winter morning.  We talked a bit and caught up; Annie’s road has not been the smoothest.  We unloaded the gifts which we stacked outside in the snow.  We had to work quickly since the boys were inside and out of sight for just a couple of minutes. 

And that was it.  We all had tears as we bid each other a very Merry Christmas.  I wished we could have stayed longer, but Annie’s boys needed their mom.  Kenley and I drove out of the yard, and up the road about 500m.  I pulled over and Kenley pulled over behind me.  We were both in tears.  I didn’t grow up believing that having money was the goal.  We learned that wealth came in many forms.  I’ve also seen my share of people who are struggling. But re-connecting with Annie, and seeing her challenges with trying to care for her two boys, was completely overwhelming.

As I drove home, I could picture the 13-year-old Annie I had known.  She came to school every day and was always delighted to be there.  I think I knew at the time she did not come from one of the families who had the means for extravagant trips and homes.  Wealth was never the measure of how I cared for my students.  Annie worked hard, and was kind.  She didn’t complain and she often put others ahead of herself. 

Once Kenley and I composed ourselves we got back in our cars and continued on home, each lost in our thoughts.  I couldn’t help but think about Annie, and about the Christmas Star.  I knew that just because the Star was obstructed with cloud on Monday night, didn’t mean it wasn’t shining.  Just because Annie showed up at school, ready to do her best, didn’t mean she wasn’t struggling.  Just because I’ve never seen her home or her circumstance, doesn’t mean they don’t exist.

Each of us have times in our lives when our star shines brightly.  We also each have times when others can hardly see our star at all.  Each of us have clouds that can periodically obscure our best parts.  And each of us have a few fleeting moments when we shine in all our glory.  On Monday I learned to believe in stars; to believe in the stars we can see, and in the ones we cannot.  I also remembered that I need to look for the shining stars inside each person I meet.

I know on Christmas morning there was a bright star shining over that little home in the countryside and I'm so grateful to all those who helped made it happen.

Blessings to you this Christmas Season.  May your star brightly shine, and may we each find the stars shining in others. 
My inquiry for you this week is, “Do you see what I see? A star, a star, dancing in the night…..”

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 identify the star inside yourself and inside others.

One of my favourite activities of this Fall and Winter seasons has been my weekly hikes in the mountains.  Blessed to live less than an hour from the first range of the Rocky Mountains, I’ve been exploring this incredible landscape at least once, and often twice each week.  I’ve embraced each chance I’ve had to wander these lands.

Each Tuesday morning, backpack packed and layered up, I leave home just before the sun is up and head west.  By the time I arrive at our agreed upon trailhead, morning has broken.  For absolutely no reason I can think of, after all this year hasn’t exactly blessed any of us with four-leafed clovers, Tuesdays have all dawned sunny and relatively warm.  When you live in part of the country where temperatures in the mid minus twenties are common, to be able to hike in December is not something to be taken lightly.  Week after week, my hiking partner, Brenda, and I, have been amazed that we have been able to continue our ritual. 

I love the physical challenge of the hikes.  I love the feeling of a sore, worn-out, well-used (all in a good way) body at the end of each hike.  I also love the feeling of peace that comes over me as we walk along.  Most often this season, our weekly hikes have been in the range of ten to thirteen kilometres.  They take a full morning to complete, as we climb on the outbound route and carefully descend on the return.  This past Tuesday, the morning was crisp but due to warm up.  Brenda and I arrived at one of the parking lots we have sometimes used.  It was Brenda’s week to choose the hike and she had a few for us to pick from.  She offered that we ‘just do nine or ten’ if that’s what I felt like.  Alternatively, she’d found one that looked to be about sixteen kilometres.  It didn’t take me long to sign up for the longer hike.  The more I have on my mind, the more miles I need to walk through it!

As we headed up the first trail, which would eventually meet with a second one, Brenda asked, “Are we nuts?”  Without a second’s hesitation, I replied, “No!”  And so, we marched on.  The question wasn’t without merit.  This was a long distance.  We had covered this length of hike before, but not in the winter, and not in snow covered conditions.  There were no tracks to follow, and the trail, while easy to follow in some places, was not marked at all in others.

The trail took us up over double the elevation we have been used to and we were both puffing as we climbed one hill after the other.  Three times Brenda asked, “Are we nuts?”  Three times came my easy, “No!”  It was only on the fourth time being questioned, that while I still gave my same, truthful, reply, did I start to wonder if we might be.  It was two o’clock and we still had at least seven kilometres to cover.  Dark comes early in Alberta.  We needed to be off the trail by around four o’clock.  It was completely doable, and neither of us were worried, but we had no window for dilly dallying, taking pictures, or for mis-reading our map.

Here is the truth.  Most people I know do think I’m nuts for doing things like this.  I don’t know anyone else who thinks this is fun.  Neither do I know anyone who thinks my biking trips with Rhonda sound like fun.  Sometimes people tell us to our faces, “You guys are nuts!”  Other times they smile and nod, and I’m sure later say to someone else, “They must be nuts!”

I got this same reaction when I was long distance running.  Most people think marathoners are nuts.  The same thoughts are had when I tell a group of young teenagers that they and I might be able to build some classrooms in Kenya.   I must be nuts.  When our dance group, in non-Covid years, dresses up in wacky costumes to perform for seniors, we get looks letting us know others think we are nuts.  But the seniors never do.  And we love being nuts together.

Finally, finally, I have hit a place in life when I’m really quite delighted with being nuts.  It’s a wonderful part of my life.  No life should be without some nuts.

When we are nuts, we are doing things that speak to our own souls.  These are things that matter to us individually.  Nuts things make us feel alive.  They are often a bit off the beaten path for others.  Nuts things are the things we will remember long into our twilight years.  I’m not concerned about being nuts, I’m worried I won’t have enough years left to do all the nuts things I want.

This Christmas will not look like any of the others we have had, nor will it feel normal.  I’m hoping despite that, we will find some ways to go nuts with those we love.  Our family can’t have Christmas dinner together like we had hoped, but we will figure out a way to somehow be connected on this special day.  I hope we can figure out something to do that will have others asking, “Are you nuts?”

May each of you too, find things to do that will have you asking yourselves, “Are we nuts?’

My inquiry for you this week is, “Are we nuts?”

Merry Christmas.
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to be nuts in your workplace, in your home and in your heart.
 
 
 
 

It’s been a difficult Covid week in this province.  We all knew tougher restrictions were a possibility, perhaps even a necessity, but to hear them laid out, all at once, was overwhelming.    To face the stark reality that Jim and I will not be celebrating Christmas with any of our family is awful.  Up until Tuesday’s announcement, we’d be trying to think of inventive ways we might get together outdoors.

It's been almost fifteen years since both of our children have lived in this province and have been here for Christmas.  This was to be THE year.  The year we could all sit down together for Christmas dinner, at Greg and Cara’s newly renovated home, just enjoying each other’s company.  It’s not to be. 

When I wear my ‘big girl panties’, I know this is a very small deal.  I can list all the reasons why this is so, and why it must be so.   I can find endless examples of people who have endured many greater hardships.  But as my friend Sandy said, when their home was flooded in the big flood of 2013, ‘I know it’s just stuff, but it’s our stuff’. 

Exactly.

Why then I found myself chuckling when I pulled in to get gas this week remains a mystery.  I wasn’t in the giggling mood, and yet as I pulled alongside the self-serve gas pump, I was imagining myself rolling down my window and saying confidently, ‘Fill ‘er up, please!’   To be clear, there was no one there to fill ‘er up, I was after all, at the self-serve.  Secondly, I don’t think anyone says fill ‘er up anymore and yet I had the urge to say it.

I remember this expression from when I was a small girl.  I recall my father saying it.  I always thought it was a wonderful thing for someone to have the money and the confidence to exclaim such a thing.  I could only imagine the day when I would have enough of my own money, and a car, and would be able to do this myself.  I haven’t heard this expression in years.  But this week, just when I was feeling sorry for all of us, it arrived in my head where it has been rattling around for days.

As I drove along that day, I was listening to a newly released set of stories by Stuart McLean.  This Canadian treasure died several years ago.  Luckily for us, he lives on through the voice we still hear in his stories.  About two Christmases before he died, Jim and I had the delight of seeing, and more importantly, hearing him, in person in Calgary where he headlined a Christmas show.  I can still picture him walking onto the stage and hear the welcome of the crowd.  I am imagining him a few seconds before he took the stage, perhaps standing in the wings, perhaps running through a pre-show ritual, or perhaps saying to himself, “Ok Stuart.  Fill ‘er up.”  Fill up this auditorium with laughter and love.  Fill up these hearts with Christmas cheer.  Fill up each of us with the spirit of Christmas.

Since my little gas fill and drive, I’ve been thinking about this expression ‘Fill ‘er up’.  This is the same expression used when a person has an empty glass.  They set it down and exclaim, ‘Fill ‘er up!’  I’m noticing a lot of empty glasses these days.  Perhaps this might be the perfect season to start thinking about filling ‘er up.  This simple old expression just might be exactly what we need to quietly say to ourselves over and over this season, as we figure out unique ways to mark this special holiday, without any of our familiar special traditions. 

Perhaps just before we put our feet on the floor after waking each morning, we can remind ourselves to Fill ‘er Up.  Fill up the day before us with actions and words that honour the Christmas spirit.  Perhaps as we chit chat at a checkout we can think to ourselves, Fill ‘er Up.  Fill up the space, instead of with complaints, with a compliment or a thank you.  Maybe we can Fill ‘er Up by helping out a little cause we might normally hear about but get too busy to donate to.  We can Fill ‘er Up as we make calls to friends, filling their minds with something new to think about, or simply filling up some minutes of these dark December days. 

There are so many ways we can think of to Fill ‘er Up.  I know teachers have been figuring out ways to fill up their students these past months.   Yes, they have filled them with knowledge, and opportunities to learn, but they have also filled them with safety, with kindness, with reassurances, and with good memories.  Our essential workers in grocery and other stores have continued to fill all of us up.  They have filled us with the things we have needed, sometimes at great personal expense to them, to allow us to continue to have what we need.  Our health care workers continue to Fill ‘er Up.  I’m not sure how they continue to do this – I didn’t notice any of them filling up their own tanks when I was in the hospital recently.  And yet, they continue to fill up their patients.  They fill them using their competencies, their incredible skill and their compassion.  I was filled up in small ways, when nurses stopped by in the middle of the night to bring me a small glass of ginger ale, and to take me for a lap, so I could gain strength to go home.  There was no complaining on their end; there was a lot of filling up given to me.

As Christmas grows nearer and nearer, and our hopes of it being normal grow smaller and smaller, we can each find ways to Fill ‘er Up.  With small kindnesses, we can fill up not only those we live with and those we encounter, but we can also up fill up ourselves.  May we each have full hearts this season.
​
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How can I Fill ‘er Up?’

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 ‘Fill er Up’ in your workplace, in your home and in your heart.
 
 

Wow.  A month has flown by.  My surgery is behind me now and I’m feeling very grateful to have been able to have it when I did.  So easily it could have been postponed for months.  Many surgeries have had to be put off due to the pandemic.  Mine was not. 

It turns out my tumour had grown a little bit between the time it was first discovered in early September, and the time it was removed in early November.  The description given to us after the surgery was that it was the size of a tennis ball.  When I look at my neck, I can’t imagine where it was hiding. It was not really showing on the outside, so it’s no wonder it was pressing on some vital things on the inside, things like my trachea and esophagus.  The good news is that it no longer presses there, my trachea is no longer taking the scenic route to get air into my lungs and my breathing is much, much easier.  The not perfect news is that a year of coughing teaches the body about a new normal and my body isn’t quite ready to go back to what I thought my normal was.  I had a hint of my smell and taste returning for about ten days and then it suddenly disappeared again.  While I wasn’t thrilled with this, I was thrilled that I haven’t lost it for good.  We simply have to figure out the secret.  I know I have excellent health care workers helping me, and I’m confident this mystery has a good solution.

Meanwhile, I’m able to hike and do most of my regular things, and this week I’m allowed to get back on my bike, on the trainer in the basement. Sometimes I feel impatient with my progress. Mostly I feel grateful.

This past week I saw a tweet from Kelsie Snow.  Kelsie is a writer.  She also happens to be married to Chris Snow.  Chris, the assistant general manager to the Calgary Flames, was diagnosed with ALS in the summer of 2019.  At the time, he was given a grim prognosis, 6 – 18 months to live.  Over the past eighteen months Kelsie has written about Chris, about their family, about ALS, about the heartache and the victories.  I don’t know this family personally, but I have friends who do, and it is through them, I have been following Chris and Kelsie’s journey.

The tweet from Kelsie this past week was this.

Kelsie Snow
@kelsiewrites

Nov 25
@ChrisSnowYYC goes in for a feeding tube next week.  All the good thoughts and white light and prayers and whatever you believe in are welcome.  He’s able to eat some solid foods still, so long as he is careful, and so we are deep into Operation Eat What You Love While You Can.

This tweet really stopped my world for a minute.  I cannot imagine what this family is experiencing.  I cannot fathom the courage they have.  I cannot picture how they know how to put one foot in front of the other.  And yet, they do.

When I read about Operation Eat What You Love While You Can, I began to think of the rest of us, about the challenges each of us faces this year, whether as a result of the pandemic or as a result of walking the earth.  I have yet to meet anyone who travels a perfectly smooth road.  I suppose the word Operation struck a chord with me because of my surgery, but I’ve since begun to think of it in a whole new way.

When we use Operation in the way Kelsie Snow used it, we think of an organized and deliberate focus on a particular thing, by a number of people.  

As I think of possible restrictions coming our way, restrictions that will no doubt create a Christmas season unlike any other, I wonder what Operations we each need to establish.  Not all of them need to be serious, nor do they need to earn us a medal.   Do we need Operation Find the Joy in the Small Moments?  Operation Get Out in the Mountains and Hike? Operation Who Needs My Help?  Operation Keep the Faith?  Operation Show Kindness?  Operation Show Up?  Operation Different is OK? Or as little Ben loves to say, Operation We Can Do That!

I am trying to not get absolutely paralyzed knowing things will be very different this year. This week I successfully carried out two operations: Operation Finish the Toques for the Christmas Tree Hunt, and Operation Enjoy Our Family on Our Tree Hunting Expedition.  I’m trying to look outward, to see where I can help, to think of how to make this a Christmas worthy of looking back on with love and happy memories.  I’m trying to remember there are some people out there who find themselves in boats in far, far rougher seas than is mine.  For them may we all offer Operation Good Thoughts, White Light, and Prayers.  And perhaps even some practical help.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What Operation is needed?’
​
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 carry out successful Operations.