Life Lessons from Little Things

Do you ever find that there are days that, well, stick in your memory? I know I do. This is one of them. 2,191 days ago, it was also Friday, September 29th, but in 2017. Today, I'm sitting at my computer, typing this, but then, I was lying in a hospital bed. There was a morphine drip in one arm, and my right ankle was resting on a half-cast, and thoroughly wrapped in bandages. The surgeon I'd met late the previous night was sitting by my bed, explaining things to me. To say I didn't fully understand them at the time would be a large understatement. I hadn't even seen yet what my repaired ankle looked like, but it was no longer sideways, and I was no longer in agonizing pain. (The morphine was probably a factor in that...). Somewhere in my mind, I still thought I'd just get up and walk normally once this was done. Reality, though, doesn't always work the way we want it to. Sometimes, reality sucks and we have to live with it. Letting yourself believe in what w

Have you ever noticed that the ease of forgiving seems pretty subjective? It varies so much on the what, the who, the why. As with so many lessons, I’m reminded of a story. My youngest son was about 5 years old. And, like most children of that age, he had something special. In his case, it was “Soft”. Soft was a double-sided flannel receiving blanket made years before by my grandmother for my oldest son. It passed through two children before its bond with my youngest son, who gave it even more love than my grandmother had put into it. Soft was life. It went to school, folded in the bottom of his backpack. It slept with him. It was dragged around the house, went to sleepovers, and was rarely far from his side. His other pride and joy around that time was a hamster. This was a well-loved hamster – the kind that’s handled often, comes readily to a hand in the cage, and doesn’t bite or nip. The hamster lived in a cage at the end of his bed. You can probably see where this is going…

Hi there! It’s been a while, but that’s how life’s been. One thing that’s come back to my mind lately is love languages. You might’ve heard of these. There’s a book by Gary Chapman, a website, and a whole lot of conversation out there in cyberland. If you don’t already know what these are, they’re basically (paraphrased): - Gifts - Acts of service - Words of affirmation - Quality time - Physical touch Now I know what you’re saying, right? All of these are good, and welcome. I’m totally with you there. They are. I will never be upset with anyone for any of these things. You’ve got my word on that! But still, some mean more than others, and that’s something which varies for each person. For example, while it’s lovely and deeply appreciated when people give me gifts or acts of service, and while I cherish (and save) those words of affirmation, what really speaks to me is quality time and physical touch. And yes, those are what’s been in super-short supply over the last few (f

Hello blog world! I’ve missed you. I woke this morning with the mental reminder of two things: - Everything we do sets an example for someone else - Our unconscious behaviour is dictated by the examples around us – now, and in the past I see these as two equally important sides of a coin. One of the things we learn quickly as parents is that our children ape our behaviour. I come to this somewhat unpleasant realization when I needed a friend’s help to take my daughter to her dance lessons about 40km away. My friend and I shared a group of common friends, and she knew my daughter well. Or, at least she thought she did. After the long drive, they were waiting to make a left turn at a stoplight. The driver of the car in front of them was … well, let’s say a little tardy in taking advantage of wide-open opportunities to make the turn. It wasn’t even warm outside, but the story goes that my normally fairly quiet daughter opened the window and hollered “move it {insert rather creati

When I was young, I knew what I wanted to be: a teacher, a psychologist, Prime Minister of Canada. Maybe a librarian. For me, all of these had one key thing in common, though, which really defined what – or who – I wanted to be. Someone who made a difference. Today, I get to be some of those things. I’m sometimes a teacher. I periodically feel like a psychologist. If you look at my office, you won’t doubt librarian. I’m not yet the Prime Minister, but I have a few good years left in me – you never know! But best of all is that I do get to make a difference. Today, that was via tiny squeaking voices. One of the things I really enjoy doing is acting as an occasional driver for a local rescue. It’s not difficult. I pick up cats and/or kittens (most often kittens) and drive them to the vet for what’s called a “spa day” – they get fixed, have their health checked out, and are made ready for their new lives in loving forever homes. Why is this awesome? - I start my day with tin

  Have you ever had one of those serious “ah ha” moments?  While I’ve had a few, I would say that on a dramatic scale, September 28 th was far and above the winner in this. It started out like any other day – it completely changed me.   You see, I fell three steps from a ladder.   Doesn’t sound like much, does it?   Three steps, that’s barely a stumble.   But the people who say “it’s not the fall, it’s the landing – well, they’re right”.   It was definitely the landing that did me in.   One minute I was on the third step of a stepladder in a client’s house, peering into the attic.   The next thing I remember is being on the floor, and looking down at my right foot.   It wasn’t at the end of my leg where it was supposed to be.   It was beside my ankle.   Trust me, that’s not a good place for a foot to be, and as I looked at it, I started to realize that it hurt.   A lot.   I laid back down, bent my left knee, and put my right – sideways – foot on it.   Carefully, because even th