It’s a miracle.  Kaitlyn will have her new sweater before her children head off to university!  I had my doubts for quite some time.  The pattern is absolutely beautiful, but difficult, and I feel like I’ve taken out as many rows as I put in.  Tinking, they call it.  Spelled backward, knit is, fittingly, tink.  Finally, I have stitched the last stitch, blocked the sweater, and once it dries, I’ll deliver it.

When I was at the very last stage, the one where I had to fold the neck in half and sew it in place, I received a message from my cousin, Joan.  Joan is my first cousin and lives in New Brunswick.  We spent our summers together as children and remain connected and close to this day.  Joan messaged to tell me about a project she, her mom, sister and several sisters-in-law and nieces are doing, and she invited me to join. 

They are each going to make a Temperature Blanket in 2022.  I had never heard of this but was intrigued with the thought of a new and, Joan promised, easy, project!  The basic idea of a Temperature Blanket is to crochet or knit a specific number of rows, one or more, on a blanket each day for a full calendar year. The colours used each correspond with the temperature outside.  It seemed like the exact kind of project I was ready for. 

I emailed and texted a few friends I know who might like this project too, and also offered it as a potential project for our little knitting group.  We are a bunch of dancers who have a problem with yarn; it collects in our bins, and we are always looking for ways to use it up.  We make hats and scarves, baby outfits and slippers, blankets, and shawls, all to donate to those who might benefit from our incurable habit.  By the time the sun had set, I’d already picked my yarn, created my temperature gauge, dusted off my 5mm crochet hook, and begun.

As I worked away the first evening, I found myself hoping for some predictable weather.  The twelve colours I had chosen didn’t exactly match, but they followed a nice progression.  I had pictured my winter colours, the blues, becoming lighter as the months unfolded, giving way to the greens of springtime.  If the weather in Calgary would only cooperate, my blanket would be a nicely organized progression of hues.  Alas, this is Calgary, and the weather is not often predictable.  In the first two weeks of this year alone it ranged over 30°C!

The blanket, it turns out, is not only going to be a record of the temperatures of the year, it will also reflect the beauty variety brings to our lives.  My blanket will be dotted with rows of unexpected colour at unexpected times.  No doubt it will be much more interesting than anything I could have planned.

So it is with life.

We try to line it up, create neat compartments, and then pride ourselves with our careful control over our moments, days, weeks, months and even years of our lives.  But as I reflect over my life, some of the most memorable, most satisfying, most interesting, and most wonderful moments have been at times when God has laughed at me, throwing unexpected circumstances my way that I could never have imagined, much less planned.  At those times, I could do nothing but knit with whatever colours I had in my basket.

Even though the blanket I’ve started is called a Temperature Blanket, and even though the colours represent changes in temperatures, as I work away on these easy, early rows, my mind wanders to thinking about what a blanket of this year of my life might look like.  What might it look like if each row represented the temperature of my bravery?  Or kindness?  Or self-acceptance?  Or willingness to fail?  Or adventure?  Or satisfaction?

With the Temperature Blanket, now that I’ve chosen my colours and set the gauge, I have no control over the rest.  If the temperatures are predictable and boring, so too will be my blanket.  If they are variable, so too will be my blanket.  I think I’ve chosen colours pretty enough that either way the result will be good. 

My life, on the other hand is not tied to such a predetermined gauge.  At the end of each day, certainly I will have to use the colour of yarn that represents my day.  But at the beginning of the day, before the dye is cast, I have full control over the colour I’ll pick from my basket to add to the blanket of my life. 

I want to look back on this year and see some vivid colours.  I want to see some that I might never have chosen based on my past experiences.  I want to create a collection of colours that reflects the truest version of myself.  And then, if all goes well, I’d like to add this years blanket to the blanket of my life and give thanks for being able to live a life that offers me choice and the opportunity to grow. 

Whether you knit or crochet, or not, I hope you’ll take some time to envision your 2022 blanket.  May you find the courage to design it exactly as you wish, then have the grace to allow life to add a few sparkly threads of her own.

My inquiry for you this week is, “What colour am I adding to my blanket?”
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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 expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations and for conducting leadership reviews. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to create your best life blanket.

I was listening to the radio last week when I heard part of an interview with the remaining members of Gord Downie’s band, The Tragically Hip.  One of the members recalled an early performance where he described them as being unexpectedly asked to play for longer than they anticipated.  He said, ‘We emptied the cupboard that night.’

I loved this image.  No song was left on the shelf.  Each one was brought out and sung, no doubt with great enthusiasm.  I can imagine them leaving the venue that night buzzing, completely satisfied.

I’ve been trying to think of places and ways in my life where I empty the cupboard.  Places where I end my day, or even part of the day, with complete satisfaction, knowing I did not hold back, not with my relationships, not with my dreams, not with my work, or with my bravery.  Places where I use the resources I have at hand, to create a moment better than expected.  As I considered this idea of emptying the cupboard, and what Olympian effort I might have to make to do this, my week revealed some inspirational and humbling examples for me.

I took Benjamin tobogganing twice this week.  I do realize I may be pushing the edge of the time period of respectability for this activity, but it’s just too much fun to resist. Most times when we go, we have the hill completely to ourselves.  But on Monday, Kaitlyn and I took the boys over in the morning and there was another family, a mom and her kids, there too.  When Jim and I returned on Wednesday with Ben, we met the same family.  This time the mother had her mother and father with them.  Her mom, Grammie, the kids called her, decided to join in the fun.  I could see this was not her normal kind of activity, but I could also see she was fully committed to spending a memory-making day with her grandchildren.  She sped down the hill with her grandson and then she and the three children invented races to compete in.  They invited Ben and I to join in.  We had a wonderful time together, she and I silently acknowledging there could be some muscle pain to pay.

Jim struck up a conversation with the mother and grandfather, all watching as we tried to keep control of our sledding devices.  As we drove home, Jim told me the mom had told him that her mom’s sister, Grammie’s sister, had died that morning.  Grammie was devastated but explained that while she was so sad, she had this day in front of her, and she needed to spend time living.  She wanted to do that with her grandchildren.

Grammie emptied the cupboard on Wednesday morning.

Later the same day as Jim and I drove home having dropped Ben at his house, Jim told me he had talked to one of his clients that afternoon.  This client, who lives in British Columbia, told Jim that his adult daughter called him just before Christmas.  She had come across a young mother and her two children who had been living in a motel since their home had been flooded in the floods of late November.  The mother was out of money and about to be out of a place to live.  The daughter did not know what to do but having heard the story didn’t feel like she wanted to just walk away.  The father, Jim’s client, said, ‘Bring them here.’

And so, she did.  This week the father and daughter, having spent the past month, including Christmas, with the little family, are just finalizing plans to have the mother and her children move into government assisted housing.  The father explained it had been expensive, and challenging, and he was so incredibly glad to have been able to help.  That father emptied his cupboard last month.  I suspect it will sustain him for many Christmases to come.

It turns out I do not need to make an Olympian effort every single minute to find ways to empty the cupboard.  Emptying the cupboard is simply fully engaging in life.  It is using what we have, to create a meaningful life.  It means drawing on our resources, even when they might feel minimal, to create a moment, or hour, or day, or month we can look back on with satisfaction.  Most often, it means making a decision to invest our energy in that which is before us.  Gord Downie and his bandmates no doubt had some misgivings about playing every song they had ever written, but it was all they had, so they did it with delight, digging deep in their cupboard trying to think of every song they knew to share with the audience.  It turns out it was exactly what the audience wanted; for The Hip to give completely of themselves, using the resources and gifts they had.

Most of the cupboard-emptying moments in life do not require exhaustive planning and preparation.  I suspect the expression originates from a time when a homemaker might have had unexpected guests and had to empty the cupboard to create a meal that might feed everyone.  So, while I was overwhelming  myself with thoughts of how to create moments to empty the cupboards of my life, it turns out these moments do not take much planning at all.  They tend to just show up at our door, requiring only that we recognize them, and act upon them.

It is not lost on me that as we empty our cupboards, the result is a filling of ourselves we could not otherwise experience.  It’s not one of those feelings of fullness that is gone in a few hours.  It’s a fullness that lasts forever.
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My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What cupboard can I empty?’

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 expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations and for conducting leadership reviews. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to empty the cupboard.

Happy New Year!  If you spent the holiday season in Alberta, chances are you were hunkered down indoors.  With temperatures never even coming close to zero, it wasn’t the year to be trying out the new toboggan!

Despite the cold, and the continued impact of the very persistent pandemic, we had a wonderful Christmas.  Greg and Cara spent time with Cara’s family, and Jim and I spent Christmas afternoon and dinner with Kaitlyn and Matt and little Ben and Andy.  How lucky are we to be able to do this!  When both our kids got married, one thing I was thrilled with was how much each of their partners value and love their own family.  Not only do they love their families, they’ve also been willing to share them with us.

Over the years, we’ve become friends with both Cara and Matt’s parents.  Even though we live miles apart, we treasure our time with them, and we appreciate how our family has been enriched by our friendships.  Each year, we exchange little gifts of remembrance.  This year, my favourite gift of all, came from Matt’s dad, Hughie. 

Keeping in mind that I received some lovely gifts, this is a bold statement.  Under my tree I found a new Garmin device that will allow Brenda and I to continue to adventure, now knowing we can send an SOS even if we are out of cell phone range.  I also opened books and kitchen gadgets and hiking accessories.  I have spectacular homemade knit mittens and an ornament.  Despite all these beautiful, thoughtful gifts, Hughie outdid them all.

What was it that could have captured my heart so?

Hughie sent me a book.  Not your average book.  I’m guessing non of the readers of this blog will have heard of it. 
Life’s Too Short to Fold Your Underwear

Yes, that’s it.  Life’s Too Short to Fold Your Underwear.  To make it even more of a treasure, it’s missing the first twenty-six pages.  And it’s a re-gift.  And it’s still my favourite.

Accompanying the book was a letter, in an envelope, that had written on the front, ‘For Elizabeth’s eyes only’.  Of course, I was instantly intrigued!

In the letter, Hughie explained how the book had come into his possession.  A school friend had given it to him some years ago.  Her daughter had removed the first twenty-six pages, having been given permission to use the book for a school project.  Hughie passed it along, ‘in the tradition of sharing what little we have’. 

The book is composed of little stories, each with a bigger meaning than the details themselves, sort of in the fashion of Erma Bombeck or Jack Canfield.  Hughie wrote that he has been reading my blog and he appreciates how I often move the reader from the day-to-day to a metaphor, allowing them to do some thinking and apply it to their own life.  He encouraged me to ‘Keep writing’, signing off, ‘East Coast Hughie’. 

I loved Hughie’s gift right from the start, even before I opened it properly.  Yet I wasn’t completely sure what it was that had me hooked.  As I write this blog today, my thoughts are becoming clearer.  I realize it is not only the most wonderful Life’s Too Short to Fold Your Underwear that I love, it’s the accompanying letter and its contents that I truly treasure. 

Each of us wishes to be seen.  Really seen.  Seen in the way of someone peaking inside us, without judgement, glimpsing some of our more precious dreams, desires, hopes and fears, and holding them tenderly, encouraging us, walking with us, and sometimes even nudging us along.  I feel safe with Hughie Hanson holding my writing in this way.

Truth be told, I’m not the talented writer in our family and as our family has grown, I recognize I’m slipping further down the ranks.  With a daughter, son-in-law, and daughter-in-law, all English majors of one sort or the other, and with Hughie and his lifetime of teaching literature, I, the Mathematics lover, do not pretend to be a writing expert.  But I do love to think, and I love to put my thoughts onto paper, and I hope they speak to someone occasionally.

Hughie’s gift to me, the gift of being seen, is one I hope to pass on in 2022.  May we each see, in this new year, parts of our family and friends, that they treasure and may find hard to easily share.  Then may we champion them with our gentle encouragement and nudges, in the way of Hughie Hanson.

Happy New Year.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Who do I see’?’ 
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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 and for conducting leadership reviews. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to see those in your life.
 
 

t’s not what you think.  This isn’t about one of those tacky Christmas sweaters.  Although I do have a lovely one.  I take it out once each year and wear it proudly.  But that’s not what this is about.

In early October, when Christmas seemed so far away and it felt like I had all the time in the world to prepare for its arrival, I found a knitting pattern for a beautiful sweater.  I thought it would look great on our daughter, Kaitlyn.  I showed her the pattern, and together we visited a local yarn shop to choose a colour she’d like. 

A person should really read a pattern carefully before committing to it.  I knew I would have my hands full as soon as I sat down to ‘relax’ and knit.  Partly, it was that the pattern isn’t written in the most user-friendly way.  Partly, it was that the darker colour wool we had chosen makes the stitches a bit more difficult to see.  But mostly it is the front and back are each made up of five panels.  Each panel has its own design, and each has a pattern that repeats after certain number of rows – each of these is different of course!  The sleeves, I’m discovering this week, have these same challenges.

I’d love to report that once I was able to make some sense of it and write out the panel instructions in a way I could follow, it was smooth sailing.  But it’s not nice to lie, and especially not at Christmas.  Let’s just say I’ve become pretty good friends with the lady at the shop where I bought the wool.  I’ve had to stop in twice for her to help me take out hours, days really, of work.  I know how to knit backward to fix a mistake, but in these two instances on this sweater, I didn’t notice the mistake for several evenings.  In a pattern with so many cable stitches, the taking out takes longer than the putting in, so I opted to ask for some help.  Otherwise, in the one instance, it would have taken me about ten evenings of knitting to knit backward, then another ten to get back to where I was.

Even I wondered how I had missed my mistake to begin with.  How didn’t I catch it as I was going?

It wasn’t until I held the work in front of me, spreading the stitches out on the needle as best I could, that my eye caught the problem.  I had mistakenly knit two stitches normally, instead of putting them on a cable needle and carrying them behind the other stitches.  There are 144 stitches on one row.  I had done about thirty rows before seeing my mistake.  There were only two stitches out of place.  TWO.

So, I did what I think any self-respecting knitter would do.  I tried to convince myself no one would notice.  Then I asked Jim his opinion.  What could he say?  Then I knit a couple more rows to see if the mistake would become even less obvious with more distance between me and it.  Then I set my work aside for a couple of days and started on one of the sleeves.  Maybe I was hoping the knitting elves would come in the night and repair my mistake.  Finally, I knew.  Even if no one else would see the mistake, I would know it was there. 

The truth is, I do think someone else might have noticed it.  I was picturing Kaitlyn standing in line at a nice coffee shop waiting to place her order, and the customer behind her looking at her beautiful sweater, thinking something looked off.  Even if they couldn’t quite locate the exact scene of the accident, their eyes would not feel settled.

There is something about our eyes and our brains that love order.  A pattern relaxes our brain.  When there is something off in a pattern, our brain whirls and whirls until it can sort it out.   

As I’ve now finished the front and back, and just begun on one of the sleeves (which I’ve already discovered are not going to be simple) I’ve been thinking about how this sweater relates to Christmas.

We’re all going to be ‘knitting a Christmas sweater’ this week.  We’ll be weaving together family and traditions in hopes of creating warm, comfortable, meaningful, beautiful memories to wrap around those we celebrate with.  I have no doubt we’ll be following a pattern to the best of our ability.  We’ll do things we’ve done in the past; we’ll make familiar foods and play familiar games.  And yet, without doubt, we’re going to miss a stitch or two.  There will be moments when things don’t turn out exactly as we want or expect or even plan. 

The best we can hope to do is what any good knitter would do.

They would notice the mistake and decide if anyone else will notice or care.  If the answer is no, getting on with celebrating will be in order.  If, however, these little out-of-place stitches are going to be noticed and remembered every time the sweater is brought out and worn, it might be a great new tradition to go back and fix them.  It could happen though, that the mistake becomes something worth weaving into the story of our Christmas, something everyone can laugh about or have fun with.  Sometimes these little mistakes are the beginnings of wonderful new memories.  Sometimes we should even dye them a wild colour and really bring them to life.

I doubt I’ll finish Kaitlyn’s sweater by Christmas.  It’s ok.  I have the front and back done.  Maybe she wants a Christmas vest.  No matter what, this won’t be what we remember most about this Christmas.  We’re going to treasure just being together.  Last year, this wasn’t possible.  So, this year, I’m going to cherish our time with Kaitlyn and her family.  I want to lock in memories of the magic of the day as seen through three-year-old Ben’s eyes.  And to treasure the sight of little Andy doing his half-creep, half army crawl, over to the tree to see the bright lights.  How lucky are we to be able to be part of Kaitlyn and Matt’s young family and to watch them knitting their own beautiful Christmas traditions, while at the same time wearing the cozy sweaters of our past, mistakes and all, knitted in for extra warmth.

Have a most wonderful Christmas.  You’ll be too busy knitting next weekend to read, so I’ll see you in the New Year.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What pattern am I knitting?’
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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 expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations and for conducting leadership reviews. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to focus more on the warmth and memories, and less on the details and missed stitches.

It’s December.  In fact, it’s well into December now.  In just a couple of weeks, Santa will have come and gone, the gifts will have been opened, the gift paper recycled, and our bellies will have been filled.

I was away for the past couple of weeks. I had the fortune of spending a few days working with the leaders, Board of Directors, and service users, of a women’s shelter in Ontario.  During my time there, one full day was spent talking with, and especially listening to, women who have accessed this shelter and those residing in Second Stage Housing.  As they make plans for independent living, Second Stage housing programs provide housing and supports for women who have left abusive relationships.

The personal stories of these women are more than most of us can imagine.  These women have literally fled for their lives.  Thanks to these programs, they now sit in a place of tentative promise.  Promise of safety, emotional support, and security with food and housing.  For now, they told me, they feel like they are home.

As we talked, they gave me suggestions for changes in the system they have had to navigate.  My task is to relay their ideas and reflections to the Board of Directors, the Executive Director, and the Leadership Team so they can be considered as we create the new Strategic Plan for this organization in the new year. 

It's a privilege to be trusted with not only their stories, but with their ideas, suggestions, and dreams.  Many of these women’s voices have not been listened to and most have not had their voices valued.

At the same time I carried out this work, I worked on a Leadership Review for another Shelter.  There were more stories to hear, more feedback to receive and the challenge of putting it all together into a practical, accurate document.

In our second week there, Jim and I embarked upon our usual whirlwind tour of Southern Ontario.  Our timing was perfect for so many things.  We celebrated my mom’s eighty-ninth birthday, with a gathering of not all, but many of my siblings.  I was able to accompany Jim’s mom, now ninety-two, to her doctors visit where she completed a cognitive functioning test.  She’s noticed her memory slipping and wanted to make sure it was not something more than just age-related memory loss.  It surprised no one to find out there is absolutely nothing wrong with her memory.  As the doctor said, you are not perfect, but you are really good. We had most incredible visits with a few treasured friends and spent time with my brother, Daniel, who I miss not having nearby here.

As we flew home, I had time to ponder not only the work I’d completed, and the wonderful visits we’d had, (not to mention the report I had yet to write), but I also pondered gifts.  Gifts we handed out along our route, gifts I had yet to purchase, the gift of safety I’d witnessed in the Shelters, the gift of family and friends, the gift of giving, and the gift of receiving. 

I’m not an easy person to buy a gift for.  I suppose most of us aren’t.  We are lucky to live in a world where most of our wants don’t get dusty on our shelves.  When we want a book, we get it, when new music comes out, we download it, when new fashion graces magazines, we order it.  It makes for a nice life, but it’s a challenge for others who might want to leave a gift under the tree for us.

What I really want for Christmas is a box.  I’d love for it to be decorated beautifully.  It doesn’t need to be a particular size.  It just needs to have room for my memories.  I have so many precious memories from this year.  I wish for a box that can hold them all.  I want to be able to take them out and look at them, feel them and remember them.  I want to remember the first time I laid eyes on our precious new grandson, Andy.  And I want to remember his beautiful two-toothed smile of late.  I want to remember all my Gramma days with Ben, and our camping trips together, my incredible Tuesday hikes in the mountains with Brenda, Jim’s and my adventures, big and small, my summer bike ride with Greg, and our family ride on my Birthday.  I want to remember my conversations with Kaitlyn, and our time spent together.  I want to be able to remember exactly how it felt cycling up the incredible hills of the Cabot Trail with my brother.  I want to remember the things told to me by the women I met at the shelter, so I never take my life for granted.

As I write this, I realize this one box will not be enough.  I want another gift.  Another box.  This one can be empty. It will hold the space for all the memories I hope to make in this next year.  I’ll keep this box in plain sight, reminding me I hold the power to fill it any way I wish. 

As the busyness of the Season washes over us, and we rush about attending to all the things on our list, may we each take time to make a few little memories, and add them to our carefully decorated boxes.  At the end of it all, I can’t think of any better gift than a box filled with our precious memories.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What memory am I adding to my box?’
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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 expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations and for conducting leadership reviews. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to create your best memories.

This week, I’m working with an organization providing safety, shelter and resources for women affected by domestic violence.  I’d been wondering what to do about my blog when my hiking friend, Brenda, told me her favourite blog of mine was the one I wrote about backpacks.  I originally wrote it on September 4, 2016.  Most of you have likely not read it.  I hope you’ll forgive this re-purposed, yet very fitting-for-the-experience-I’m-having-this-week, blog.  I’ll be back next week with some original content.  Please enjoy.

This week hundreds of thousands of Canadian children will make their way back to school.  Thousands of teachers, including our daughter and son-in-law, Kaitlyn and Matt, will do the same.  Many of the children will be wearing a backpack, bringing to and from school their possessions.  Anyone who has gone to school can almost hear the sighs of relief when those students arrive home and are able to take off their packs.

Last week our son, Greg and his new wife Cara completed their honeymoon-style canoe trip.  Parts of it involved portaging and they too had to wear backpacks to carry their possessions.  They were talking about how great it felt when they were able to lay their backpacks down at the end of each portage.

I didn’t have a backpack when I was a student but I sure do remember the great feeling of laying down my pile of books and other possessions when I arrived home.  What a relief.

In the case of students, mostly their backpacks are filled with books, newsletters, lunches, sweaters, and extra shoes.  In the case of canoeists, the backpacks contain sleeping bags, food and first aid kits.  All these things are easy to lay down. 
When I was a teacher, I always imagined that the children brought other things to school with them in their backpacks.  I imagined that they brought their hopes and dreams.  These would likely be easy to carry.  I imagined they brought their worries and fears.  These no doubt were heavier.  I also imagined they brought the invisible things that had happened in their homes in the hours before school began each day.  For some students these invisible things would remove some of their weight, making their packs seems lighter; for others it would add an immeasurable load.  These invisible items are much harder to lay down when the backpack is taken off.

In my classroom, before I started every single class, I would stand at the front of my classroom, quietly smiling at the students, and wondering to myself, “I wonder what each of these students has brought with them today?”  It was never my goal to add to the weight of their imaginary load; it was always my goal to decrease it.  I wanted them to feel like my classroom was a place they could remove their heavy load.

I don’t stand in a classroom and have this thought anymore.  This week though, it has dawned on me that this should be a thought I have every time I pick up the phone, answer the door, buy groceries, attend a meeting, meet a friend, drive my car or simply go about my daily life.

Every person we meet in this world is carrying around their own invisible backpack.  We cannot see inside it, but we can certainly imagine the possible contents.  Each of us carries our hopes and dreams, our disappointments and failures, our fears and rejections.  Each of us also has the power to influence the contents of the backpacks of others.  We can add to the burden of weight by our criticism, exclusion, and thoughtlessness.

We can also lighten the load of our fellow travellers by adding kindness, inclusion, encouragement and thoughtfulness.  Each of our little actions either adds to or lessens the weight of the packs that are carried by those we come into contact with.  We can make our presence be a place where people are safe to take off their packs completely.

Some travellers have become adept at hiding the fact that they carry a backpack.  We should not be fooled by this.  There is no one on this earth who does not carry their memories, fears, hopes and dreams.

I am lucky enough to know a few people who have homes where I can visit and feel perfectly safe taking off my backpack.  These homes are like a haven.  I am hoping that my home is a place like this for others.

This week my challenge for you is to take a few seconds, each time you meet someone, to ask yourself, “I wonder what this person is carrying in their backpack today?”
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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 individuals, corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations and in conducting Leadership Reviews. Contact Elizabeth to learn to lighten the load of backpacks.

I originally wrote this post in November 2015.  I saw a picture of this trip in my Facebook memories and wanted to share it again.  Please enjoy this recycled piece.

Jim, I, our daughter, Kaitlyn, and her fiancé, Matt went on an incredible one-day adventure yesterday.  We flew from Calgary to Churchill, Manitoba for a one-day, once in a lifetime, Polar Bear Safari! Ok, maybe twice for me as I’d love to go again!

There is wisdom in everything.  Here is a tidbit from what I learned yesterday. 

As we made the short bus ride from the charter plane to the place where we boarded the tundra buggy along the beautiful coast of Hudson Bay, the bus driver, Paul, told us a bit about living in Churchill and about the bears.  He pointed out a building that he called Bear Jail.

He explained that in the 1970’s and early 1980’s, if a bear wondered into town, it was shot.  Everyone had a gun.  Bears were seen as a nuisance, and they absolutely were a threat.  At that time, people simply didn’t understand very much about the bears, and they certainly did not consider the implications of shooting them.  Many were killed each year. 

Flash forward almost 40 years.  Now, bears are almost never killed in Churchill if there is any feasible alternative.  One such alternative is Bear Jail.  When a bear presents itself as a problem now, the bear is captured and placed in Bear Jail until it can be sedated and then airlifted away from town.  Sometimes the bear has to be in jail for many days until resources are available for air lift.  While we were there, there were 18 bears in the jail.  They would soon be relocated as the ice was ready to come in, thus allowing the bears a way to get out to their winter home.

Paul told us when they first started Bear Jail, they fed all the bears sentenced to jail.  This seemed humane and appropriate.  They later noticed however, these well-fed bears, realizing the jail was a good and easy place to get food, returned to town year after year.  They would get into trouble in town and be put into Bear Jail, where they would be fed, and then released when resources became available.  And so, the cycle was created.  The same bears kept showing up in Bear Jail year after year.  Keep in mind at this time of year, the bears are waiting to go out on the ice to hunt seals.  They have not eaten since springtime, and they are hungry; Bear Jail was quite appealing.  In the wild, they would have very, very little food to eat. 

With this as their insight, Paul told us they changed their practice.  Currently, the bears in Bear Jail are given ice and water, but no food.  Paul reminded us that even though this might seem cruel, a hungry bear is much better than a dead bear.  He reminded us that bears in the wild go months without food at this time of the year.  He knows people might criticize this practice, but it is definitely best for the bears.

There are times in all our lives when we have to deal with a person with a bad behaviour.  Often our reaction is to do something that makes us feel better.  We justify this by telling ourselves we are being kind.  For instance, if we deal with a person who gets upset when things don’t go their way, we tend to avoid having that happen.   We adjust our behaviour, so we don’t have to watch them, or deal with them, being upset.  We give them what they want even when we know it is not the best solution, and we disguise it as being kind, or avoiding conflict, or de-escalating a situation.  We might even begin to foresee what could upset them and start planning to avoid having it happen at all. They never have to change their behavior because in the end they get what they want by doing it.  When we do these things, we are simply reinforcing the very behaviour that we do not want or like.  We stop their bad behaviour for the moment, but soon they are back, doing the exact same thing, knowing how we will respond.   And we ‘feed’ them again.

In the dark, on the way back to the airport, our bus had a flat tire.  Paul had to radio for a new bus.  We were transferred onto it very carefully, as Paul’s wife had radioed the bus and warned him there was a huge polar bear at Paul’s house, which was near to where we were.  Paul removed the rather large gun he carries on his bus and brought it with us onto the rescue bus.  When we got to Paul’s house, the new bus driver dropped Paul off at the end of his driveway and we watched him trudge up the driveway with his gun, in the dark, making plenty of noise to warn the bear.   He said he wasn’t afraid, that this was just life and he was very glad that he and the rest of the resident’s of Churchill, were learning to live in relationship with the bears.  The bears did not have to be shot, nor did they always have to get what they wanted.  They have learned to co-exist. 

I’m going to offer that we stop feeding the bears in our lives.  If you notice yourself responding to a colleague or friend in a way that does not stop an unwanted behaviour, but simply reinforces it, try responding in a new way; take away their proverbial food.  It will be uncomfortable at first.  In fact, their behaviour might escalate for a bit as they test you to make sure that you are really serious about not ‘feeding’ them anymore.  But, gradually, they’ll figure out that they need to change their behaviour, or go find someone else who is willing to feed them.

Thanks Churchill, Manitoba.  I had the most amazing day in your backyard yesterday.  I’ll treasure it for a long time to come.
​
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 individuals, corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations and in conducting Leadership Reviews. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to stop feeding the bears in your life.
 

Jim’s brother, Rob, and his wife, Dawn, were in town this past week.  Rob’s been receiving medical treatment in Calgary every few months and we’ve been lucky to be able to host them and have some wonderful visits.  There are so many really nice parts to this; Rob and Jim have, for most of their adult lives, lived far away from each other so having them within a day’s drive has allowed for more visits and for a chance to reconnect.  Another part of the fun of these recent visits is they’ve been able to connect with our children, who they haven’t seen in decades, and they’ve been able to meet their great-nephews, Ben and Andy.  Ben is enthralled with Rob’s keyboard, and Rob loves to share it with Ben.

Covid has reminded us all that simple pleasures such as this, in-person visits with brothers and sisters-in-law are precious events indeed. 

As Rob and Dawn were making the long drive home after their visit this week, they occasionally texted as they went.  One of Rob’s texts mentioned they’d love to leave a little gift for Ben and Andy for Christmas.  I thanked them, adding while it wasn’t necessary, it was very kind.  Rob texted back, ‘It’s so nice to reconnect with your family and throw some love around’.

Throw some love around. 

I smiled reading it.  Rob and I have a very similar sense of humour.  This slightly flippant remark hit the right note with me.  And it also really made me think we could all stand to throw some love around.

Later that same evening I sat down to watch the Canada-Mexico soccer match.  I love watching soccer and this game did not disappoint; it was a thriller with Canada emerging victorious after a heart-pounding final quarter.  The fans in Edmonton braved the freezing temperatures to sit outside, in NOVEMBER! to take in the game. Celebrating the victory, they were cheering and clapping, and remained in the stands long after the final whistle was blown.

One incredibly Canadian moment that has graced every manner of social media since the game ended was the photo of player, Sam Adekugbe, jumping into a snowbank in celebration of the win.   We may never again see such a sight.  Considerably less viral, yet perhaps even more magical, was another eye-catching moment, occurring once the mayhem on the pitch settled, and the fever of the fans slowly grew.  One player, whose name I cannot remember, went to the end of the field, and started to raise his hands in a clapping motion to encourage the crowd to join in.  Join in they did.  As more and more fans waved flags and cheered and clapped in unison, this player threw handfuls of snow into the air.  It glistened and danced like stardust under the night lights, so fitting for the incredible victory.

Literally, he was throwing some love around.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around, but Christmas is just over a month away.  It’s often considered the Season of Love.  In normal times, we’d exhaust ourselves with parties, gatherings, family get togethers and feasts.  Although I long for those days, I do recognize sometimes I didn’t approach my commitments with the grace and love I could have.  At times it felt like pressure and stress mixed in too.

This season we are still far from our old Christmas normal, but we’re much closer than we were a year ago.  We’re in a bit of a sweet spot.  We can plan a few activities with people we feel safe around, and yet we don’t have to exhaust ourselves with too many activities.  I think this could be the year when we can perfect the art of throwing some love around.
 
I’m planning to start early and do it often.  I’m refusing to make it feel like work.  There are so many ways we can throw love around.

Just this week we all watched the devastation in British Columbia, caused by the extreme rainfall, 250mm in 24hours.  Unbelievable.  My goodness, British Columbia needs all the rest of us to throw some love around.  All around.  To all of them.  They need love in the form of supplies, food, shelter, manpower and emotional support. They need to know we’re with them.

Even if we don’t have a direct way to help our cousins in British Columbia, every single one of us can find someone or some organization, ready to catch the love we throw.  I’m going to start with some small warm-up love throwing.  Like smiles.  Perhaps I’ll strike up a little conversation with the radiologist taking my x-rays next time I go.  Or maybe I’ll let someone know exactly what it is about them I appreciate.  Maybe I’ll knit another toque to add to our knitters group donations.  Maybe I’ll do some baking for Jim’s mom to put in her freezer for Christmas time.

And maybe, just maybe, if we REALLY want to throw some love around, Dawn and I will go wild and let Rob and Jim win the next Euchre game.    

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Where can I throw some love around?’
​
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 individuals, corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations and in conducting Leadership Reviews. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to throw some love around.
 
 

When I get repeated hints about something from the universe, I know it’s what I should be writing about.  This week, it’s cows! 

Cows!

In one of the areas where I hike, in the spring, ranchers bring their cattle to graze on the grasses of the Foothills.  There are cattle guards along the road to prevent the cows from leaving the area.  However, the area is vast, and over the five or six months they are out there, the cows can wander quite a distance.  Brenda and I have seen several cows while out hiking.  A month ago, I actually had to stand my ground and wave one off as it charged toward us.  I laughed, recalling how I had done this as a young girl.

Usually around the end of October, or earlier if the snow arrives before it’s welcome, the farmers organize cattle drives and herd the cows back to the lower land, to the ranches where they will winter.   

This year was no different.  One Tuesday, toward the end of October, as we drove out to start our hike we commented on the absence of the cows.  We knew the cattle drives had happened; a sure sign winter was soon approaching.

Two weeks ago, both Brenda and I were nervous as we hiked along.  We had seen a black bear the previous week, so every sound made us a bit jumpy.  A trail runner came up behind us at one point and almost scared us off the path.  The fright from the runner, and all the other little sounds, were short lived and replaced with us laughing at our own jumpiness.  As we made the descent from Powderface mountain however, we stopped in our tracks when we heard an ominous roar.  We looked at each other and paused for a minute, listening.

A cow?????

I’ve heard a lot of cows mooing in my life, and I knew without a doubt, this was most definitely a cow.  In fact, it had not roared so much as bellowed.  As we stood there wondering why we had been fooled, we realized it was because there should not have been any cows in the area.  They should have all been rounded up. 

We never did see the cow that made such a noise, and other than commenting that we wished we knew how to let a rancher know there was still one cow out there, we didn’t give it much more thought until this past week.  This week we hiked up a wonderful trail called the Race of Spades.  In the spring and summer, it is used by mountain bikers.  A group of bikers maintain this trail and build complex jumps out of the natural logs in the area.  They name each jump, or obstacle, and someone has used their creativity to make colourful signs denoting the name of each.  It feels so uplifting to see each of them.

The Race of Spades opens up to a road at the top end of the trail.  We planned to cross the road to see the incredible view, and then make our way back down a different, non biking, trail.  As we approached the road, we heard the sound of a vehicle.  Just as we were about to step up onto the road we saw a mini, modern, cattle drive headed down the road.  I say mini because while a ‘real’ cattle drive might have over a hundred head of cattle, this one had six.  I say modern because while a ‘real’ cattle drive involves horses and dogs, this one used two pick up trucks and a quad to keep the cows in line.

We waited just off the road as they passed so as not to scare the cows into the woods.  Horses could easily have followed them and ushered them back, but trucks?  Not so much.  Once the trucks were past us, the quad pulled up and we chatted with the driver, Corbin.  He told us they were still missing a few cows.  Suddenly a light went on for us.  We told him about the cow we had heard the week prior and were able to give him an exact location.  He was very pleased and planned to take a helicopter up looking for it, and the others the next day.

A couple of days later, forgetting all about the cows, I was at my desk, conducting phone interviews regarding a leadership review I am facilitating.  One of the people I spoke to, told me of the bravery of this leader.  They said when they think of her, they think of the statue found in New York City, outside of the Stock Exchange.  It is of a little girl, standing face to face with a bull.  Fierce, is the word that was used to describe this leader, this leader advocating for the safety of women who have faced violence against them.  ‘She is fierce’, they said. ‘She will face anyone with the truth.  It takes courage to do what she does.’

I remember as a young girl, having cows on our farm.   Sometimes they would charge (I think it was more like running) toward us.  When we would tell our Dad, he told us to face them, to stand our ground.  He told us not to run away.  I have no idea if this is good advice about cows, but it served us well then, and it was one of those things that I knew, even then, was a bigger lesson than it appeared on the surface.  Dad was teaching us how to deal with things that we feared. 

Stand your ground, he would say.  Face them.  Let them know you mean business.  They’ll turn away.  And they always did.

I’ve been feeling grateful for my dad’s advice this week.  Even though Brenda and I didn’t exactly have to stand our ground when we heard the cow, and even though we didn’t really have to be fierce even when we saw the bear, it reminded me I can stand my ground, and face my fears, and even be fierce when I choose to be.

Fierce doesn’t mean angry.  Fierce doesn’t mean rude.  Fierce means showing a heartfelt and powerful intensity.  Ferocity, fierceness, allows me to stand up for myself, to stand up for what is right, and to stand up for others who may not have such a strong voice or who were not lucky enough to have a father who taught them to fiercely face cows. 
​
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Where do I need to be more fierce?’

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 individuals, corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations and in conducting Leadership Reviews. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to become fierce.
 
 

There are a couple of times each year when I get the urge to get my house in order.  It’s not exactly out of order, but just as in most homes, the pantry gets filled with almost empty boxes of crackers, the part of the flour that didn’t quite fit in the sealable container needs pouring in, and the bits of pasta left over need some inventive recipe to use them up. 

Other parts of the house are the same.  I find the clothes rods in my closet crammed with clothes that are ‘perfectly good’.  I often forget to question, why, if they are perfectly good, I’m not wearing them! The kids’ toys are the same.  Over the months we seem to accumulate more and more, and before long there are toys at the back of the cupboard we’ve forgotten all about.

Although no visitor would notice if these ‘closet’ things were cleaned out, it makes me feel completely different, better, and more settled, when they are.  One of the things an observant visitor would notice is that my windows could use a cleaning.  I need to call my friends, Ed and Marie, who have done this job for us for close to thirty years.  When we moved to the acreage, the back of the house was three stories high including the basement.  We quickly decided this would be one place we would splurge on outside help.

As I’ve been busily working at my computer these past weeks, I’ve found myself thinking it’s time to get at it.  To tackle the Fall house clean.  I don’t know exactly what causes me to have an appetite for it at this particular time of year.  It could be that Halloween feels like a messy holiday, and with the exception of the reflectful Remembrance Day, the Christmas season is known to bring its own share of messiness too.   Knowing this, it’s possible I just have a hankering to get my house in order.

The truth is, I don’t have time for a true Fall house clean right now.  And yet, another kind of house cleaning is also calling my name.  This one, I have no excuse to ignore.  It doesn’t take physical energy; it doesn’t really take extra time.  It can be done while driving or snacking or walking or knitting.  This house cleaning is the one where I open the doors and look into all the rooms of my inner self.  Each of us has many rooms inside ourselves.  Each of these rooms hold different parts of our complete selves.  Some we visit frequently.  These are our comfortable rooms.   We are very familiar with the person living here.  Some of these rooms are so put- together, we know we can welcome others into them without a care. 

One of these rooms would be the one where I find my ‘family self’.  In this room, I like the self I find.  I know just where things fit in this room.  Everyone is welcome here.  This inner room aligns with my values so well, I don’t have to worry about quickly shuffling things around if someone comes to this door. 

My professional-self room is also in great order.  Everything is in its place, and everything has a place.  My filing system is in order, and I know my deadlines.  My projects are clearly labeled. This is a part of my inner world I am proud of.   In this room I am well-dressed, professional, and welcoming. My confidence is high here. 

But there are other inner rooms in this mansion that makes up my whole self.  I open the doors to these rooms easily, but not often.  One of these would be my adventuresome room.  As I write this, I find myself exploring this room and I recognize I’ve been visiting this room more and more in the past few years.  I’ve been fortunate to have had adventures come my way, and more fortunate to have said yes to them. 

I also have a room that houses my outrageous self.  This room has a door that sometimes sticks.  Yet when I manage to swing it open and fully step inside, I find it filled with musical instruments, a dance floor, and art from my travels.  This room has huge windows opening to the wide outdoors, inviting me to a place where I can run and bike and hike.  Ben and Andy love this room.  In this room, Ben and I can swim, even at the end of October.  Tucked in the back of the closet here, I not only have my ‘play’ clothes, but I have glamorous clothing; clothing I almost don’t think I can pull off wearing, and yet here it is. 

I must steel myself to open the door to a few of the rooms of my inner self.  My inner room of bravery holds promise for me, and yet it’s kind of a double-edged sword.  I know being brave will bring me unknown priceless treasures.  At the same time, I must be brave just to enter this room.

There is one other small room I haven’t really considered exploring yet, but I think it is time.  This is my ok-self room.  It’s the room where I let go of other people’s expectations of me, and make the decision it is fine to be ok with myself, just how I am.  It’s possible this one is a little hidden room at the back of my brave room. 

I enjoy this kind of Fall house cleaning; the kind where I wander through my inner house and look with fresh eyes at what is there.   I can see what things I’d be better off without.  I can identify which things have passed their ‘expiry date’ and no longer serve me well.  I can see some spots where there is room to add something new.  The windows here too, need a good cleaning so I can clearly see what is possible when I access all parts of myself. 

I’m giving myself permission to wait a few weeks to tackle the physical part of my Fall house cleaning.  But I’m committed to spending time cleaning out that other house of mine – the inner one.  The one with some rooms filled with threadbare furniture, overused and far too comfortable.  And with other rooms containing unused treasure and invaluable opportunities. 

My plan is to eventually open up my whole house and let all parts of it gleam and shine.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What inner room holds treasure for me?’
​
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 about some wonderfully practical house cleaning tools.
 
 
 
 
Appetite, longing , desire ,hankering