This is a busy time of year to be a Chinook Country Dancer.  Our instructor, Reba J, spends hours booking performances around the city.  All of us look forward to donning our white ‘fur’ wrist bands and switching the adornment on our hat from our summertime red rose to a white poinsettia.  Against the backdrop of our red shirts, those white accessories look so Christmasy.  Sequens on skirts and pants replace our more uniform summer look and sparkling earrings, necklaces and bracelets complete our festive look.

Some of the girls dance many times each week, at seniors’ residences during the day and even for some special evenings, and at the largest city malls on weekends and evenings.  While I knew I would not be able to fit in as many performances as some, I was looking so forward to the larger ones I’d signed up for.  Last Saturday, downtown, was my first.  Ready in full costume I joined this group of women I love so much.  I don’t know if there is a word to properly describe this feeling.  It’s a sense of being together, of being surrounded with joy, of moving together to the music we feel deep in our toes, and of knowing we, every single one of us, have all of us to count on.  Not only on the dance floor, but in life.  It’s remarkable really.  I simply love standing in ready position, looking around at my fellow dancers, catching eyes, and smiling.  I wish everyone could feel it.

Such a little thing.

As we wrapped up that performance and Jim and I headed back to our parked car, I could feel the second toe on my right foot talking to me.  That was unusual for me.  I have plenty of foot pain due to arthritis, but this was new.  I was so glad to get home and out of my boots, boots I’d worn without incident all last summer.  I mentioned that my toe felt broken, but quickly added that I also knew that was impossible, it must just have been getting used to performing again.  Compared to the joy I’d had dancing, this was such a little thing.

The next day we were set to dance again.  Thinking I’d outsmart my foot, I put on a very well-worn pair of boots, the kind where the leather is so soft they feel like slippers.  While this felt great driving, and walking to our performance location, about half-way through the performance I decided that the soft upper may not have been worth the lack of support in the sole.  Luckily, the music and movement took me away, and it wasn’t until heading to the car again that I really felt that little toe.

Such a little thing, but goodness how loud it could talk.

I sensibly chose to pamper that foot for the rest of the day and the next, after all I didn’t want to miss out on Tuesday’s hike.  Monday night I wasn’t so sure it would happen, but on Tuesday morning when I put on my sturdy hiking boot, my toe felt fine.  Almost perfectly fine.  The hike was fantastic.  It was shorter than usual, but just being in the silent forest with our little group of friends was, as always, so good for me.  It’s just walking in the woods, but I’m grateful for every step we take together.

Such a little thing.

Arriving home my foot felt so good I felt I could dance again that evening.  Again, I loved it.  Again, my second toe did not.  This time I knew what I likely had already known.  I happened to have an appointment for a regular visit to the foot specialist and she confirmed the toe was broken.  I understand fully this will mend in time.  I know that in the big scheme of life it’s nothing to despair.  And yet, it’s still disappointing that such a little thing is going to weasel its way into so many upcoming ideas I had for this season.

This week, one of our hiking friends, Lynne, welcomed a new granddaughter to our world.  She is beautiful, and precious.  She’s filled their family with love.

She is such a little thing.

Our friends Susan and Darryl stopped by this week to drop off a beautiful arrangement of greenery. In it is a little bird.  When Ben and Andy arrived for the day on Friday, they both noticed it immediately. Both stopped and stared at that little bird.  Ben said, ‘Oh, look at the little bird, Gramma!  It’s beautiful.’  Then they both sat on the fireplace hearth and gently stroked its soft feathers.  They came back to it time and again during the day.

Such a little thing.

This Christmas season is made up of little things.  Many are wonderful little things: Christmas concerts, lights in the neighbourhood, special baked treats evoking memories of Christmases past, visits with friends, gatherings with family, carols heard and sung, and games played together.  There are compliments given and smiles exchanged.  All these little things help create the joy and wonder of the season. 

But there can also be things that we might do and say that can hurt others too.  Most often we don’t mean the hurt, we simply act and speak without thinking about our impact.  These too are such little things.

Little things matter.  Let’s watch the little things this season.  Let’s minimize the ones that cause hurt and pain, and maximize those bringing joy and wonder.  After all, this season exists because of one little baby. 

Such a little thing.

May your heart find many little things to fill it this Christmas season.  I will take the next couple of weeks off to celebrate the season with my family.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Right now, what is the most important little thing?’
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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 and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to notice and appreciate the little things. 
 

You can feel it in the air, the feeling that the time needed to do all the things on our lists is less than the time left do them.  It’s less than three weeks until Christmas.  A quick glance at my calendar reveals how quickly these next weeks will fly by.  I’d rather they didn’t.  I’d rather I had some completely blank pages.  I’d rather have time to really cherish all the upcoming special little moments.

Let me back up a month.  At the beginning of November, I claimed November to be ‘National Month of Getting Stuff Done’.  Spoiler alert:  The day was only for us; I just used the word National to make it seem more official.

I’m not a hanger oner, so I was excited.  Jim has a hard time parting with anything we might possibly need in the next couple of decades, so he was less enthused, but still on board.  So, November found us periodically, bit by bit, sorting through outgrown toys in the basement, excess books on the crowded bookshelves and no longer worn clothes in our closets.  I tackled the pantry and my knitting and sewing supplies.  Jim sorted through some of the piles of paperwork that had built up in his office. 

It felt fantastic!

The idea had been that if we could put all this behind us in November, we would be free to really settle in and enjoy the lead up to Christmas.  Whenever I clear out some of our excess, I feel like I can breathe easier.  There aren’t so many things hanging on the hooks in my mind, leaving me with more room to be creative.  I more fully appreciate what I have.  I think when we have too much stuff, when we’re just staring at it all the time, it’s impossible to love it all.

It’s the same with special events.  If we’re not careful, if we forget to be intentional as we rush from one thing to another trying to fit it all in, one thing blends into the next and at the end of it all our memories resemble the piles of the wrapping paper that often cover the living room floor on Christmas morning.  It’s a blurry mess.

Many years ago, in the spring of his final high school year, our son, Greg, was honoured with several very special awards.  These were in addition to the awards he received at the academic and athletic awards ceremonies. Proud parents were we as we rearranged our already full schedules to attend luncheons, and evening events.  One evening, upon returning home from one of the special celebrations, I busied myself preparing for the next day, while Jim headed for his office.  I had barely begun to organize the next day when I stopped.  I went to the door of Jim’s office, stood in the doorway and asked him to come with me.  I asked him to put on his shoes, and out the door we went for a walk in the final minutes of sunlight.  We lived in the country at this time, and the sun was beginning to make moves to set behind the Rocky Mountains.  It was a beautiful peaceful evening. 

Jim asked, ‘What’s up?’

I told him that it felt like we were just rushing from one thing to the next, unable to really let it all soak in.  I talked about how special it was, that our son was being honoured for his hard work and for his contributions to not only his school but to the city.  I said I felt we needed to slow down for a few minutes, to feel our pride, and to be grateful to be part of this time of his life.  After all, in a few short months Greg would head off to university, far away from home.  These special days were growing short.

I don’t know what gave me the wisdom to pause that evening, but I’m so grateful we did. I can picture our evening walk as though it were only yesterday, and I call upon that memory whenever I get that same feeling of rushing from one thing to another without really grounding myself in the moment.

While the calendar has turned the page from November, and while we did accomplish much during our ‘National Month of Getting Stuff Done’, we’re far from the place of putting our feet up and just enjoying.  As I think back upon that June evening when we were too busy to pause, but did it anyway, I realize we’re all entering that kind of season again.  It’s so easy to think our chore list, our ‘to do’ list, is the most important thing.  But this I know for sure, even when we work for an entire month to ensure we can be present, our calendar still fills up, and somehow our list of ‘to do’s’ doesn’t seem much smaller.

The only way we can fully be present, is if we choose to pause, and to become intentional about fully grounding ourselves in the moments we deem to be the important ones.  This week I had two of those.

One evening this week as I was working hard on a Christmas project, I took a minute, as I always do, to check the pictures that Kaitlyn so faithfully posts of the boys every day so we can be part of their daily lives.  On this day was a picture of little Ben, sitting at the kitchen table, elf hat on, carefully printing his letter to Santa.  I just stared at it.  These are the magic years for those boys.  The years when they can almost hear the bells of Santa’s sleigh.  I wanted to stop time, I wanted this stage to stay with us forever.  But I knew it would not.  And I also knew all my hurrying putting pressure on myself to finish my self-chosen project, would in no way, add to the magic of Christmas.
 
So I chose to just sit there, and to soak up that beautiful picture. 

A similar thing happened on Friday, when Andy was here for his regular Gramma day.  He had been playing in the living room, as he often loves to do.  Suddenly, I noticed I couldn’t hear him and hadn’t heard him in a few minutes so I quietly went in to check.  There was Andy, laying peacefully under the Christmas tree, looking up at all the sparkling lights and ornaments.  Satisfied he was fine, I could have headed back to the kitchen where I’d been cleaning up breakfast.  But instead, I chose to just sit quietly, and watch him taking in the magic of that tree.

These years will not come again, nor will these moments.  I wish for all of us the wisdom to notice when we should simply stop hurrying, slow down and take a small moment to breathe in the beauty of this wonderful season.
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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 and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to hurry up and slow down. ​