Let's go back to ME!

I took a sick day today. I think my body is just plain worn out. At first I was just going to sleep a little longer than usual and then go in to work late, but I rolled over in bed (after calling the office) and the next thing I knew, I woke up and it was after 10:00. I don't know when I've ever slept that late, but clearly I needed it. I'm awake now, but still feeling pretty groggy and worn out and a little achey, so I'll just spend the day in rest mode.

There are some fun and exciting things happening these days, and maybe it's taking a toll on my energy level. Today in the Winnipeg Free Press, I was named as a "Manitoba Mover" because of my award. Really? Me? A mover and a shaker? Wow! I'm certainly not feeling much like a "mover" today! And on every other day? Well, mostly I just feel like I'm doing my job the way I'm supposed to be doing it and not a whole lot differently from the way other people in similar positions are doing their jobs. I'm trying to write my speech for the gala luncheon (they want me to talk about some of the unique and successful ways I've communicated), and I'm having trouble figuring out what I do that might be noteworthy.

I'm also preparing to speak at this conference in Toronto in June. I've done lots of speaking engagements in the past, but this is the first time I'll be flown in to be a conference speaker at a North America-wide conference. It feels like I'm "kickin' it up a notch" so to speak.

I'm on a little high of excitement over all of this. Unlike many people who say they fear death less than speaking in public, I actually really, really enjoy public speaking and I've been wanting to do more of it. It gives me really great energy and confidence - at least when I feel like I have something worth sharing. I especially love it when people come up afterward to engage me in conversation because something I said really stuck with them and they just felt the need to explore it more with me.

When I started this year out with "fearlessness" as my theme (which, I realize, should probably be "courage" rather than fearlessness, since it's more about moving through the fear than abolishing it altogether), I tried to be honest with myself about what things I wanted to do more of if I had the courage to ask for the opportunities. Public speaking was one of those things. I admitted it to myself (and to god), and then the opportunities started to show up without me having to look for them.

But there's a down side to all of this, of course. It's the expectations and new "standard of excellence" I'm setting up for myself. How do you top "communicator of the year"? Do I now have to become "communicator of the decade" to feel like I've arrived?

When I sent out the press release about my award, one of the board members said, jokingly, that they'd be expecting even more from me now... and that's what I'm afraid of. What does "more" look like? And what if everything I try this year is a miserable failure? What will people think of me then?

For now, though, I'll try not to worry about all that and instead, bask in the glow of the moment. For starters, I'm going to have a hot bath and listen to some good music...

Okay, enough about me

A few random things that aren’t quite as self-centred as the last few posts have been…

1. I have become a little obsessed with desire to see this film. I was already fascinated with it months ago when I first heard about it, but now have become even more so after hosting a strong and passionate Liberian woman in my home. It costs about $300 to host a community showing of the film. This morning it occurred to me that I could probably rally enough interested women to make it worthwhile ordering a copy and planning an event. Anyone interested in joining me?

2. I want to believe in “innocent until proven guilty”, but if he is indeed guilty, I sincerely hope Rihanna has the sense and strength to walk away from Chris Brown. I don’t normally care much about the “lifestyles of the rich and famous”, but my impressionable daughters care a little too much, and they need to know that it is NOT OKAY for a man to beat a woman and then for a woman to walk back into the situation (unless he gets some good help and is truly reformed).

3. Every fibre of my being is longing for Spring! It is not healthy for me right now to be visiting blogs of people who live in places where grass is starting to grow and buds are bursting out all over. If you post pictures like that, I may have to ignore you for a month or so until it happens here.

Alert the presses!

I've sent out alot of press releases in my career, but this is the first time there's one about me!

Can somebody dress me please?

I’m not very good at dressing myself. Oh I’m fairly competent at pulling on pants and doing up my bra strap, but when it comes to picking clothes that actually look good on me and make me feel like a well-dressed, confident woman, I fall a little short in the skills department. I know what I like, but what I like and what looks good on my lumpy body are usually two different things. (Ah yes – if your psychoanalysis skills are intact, you’ve zeroed in on the problem – I’m not too fond of my overly-accentuated curves or my hang-to-the-waistline never-wear-button-up-tops boobs. So I avoid stores that remind me of that particular inadequacy. Sigh.)

I tend to dress for the lowest common denominator. 1.) Is it cheap? 2.) Does it fit? 3.) Is it a little less likely to make me look like a lumpy elephant or Dolly Parton’s saggy, less surgically modified twin than the other stuff on the rack? Lately, since we’ve been living with one income for most of the last 6 years (and kids grow out of clothes way too fast), number 1 criteria has trumped the others – it’s gotta be cheap. Approximately 75% of my clothes have come from second-hand stores, a fact that mortifies my fashion-conscious teenage daughter. (But it’s not all bad – I have lots of scarves collected from the various countries I’ve visited, so I almost always throw on a splash of colour to draw the eye away from the worn-out not-very-trendy threads underneath.)

Now I find myself in a dilemma. As you might have guessed, this “communicator of the year” thing is kind of a big deal for me – a career milestone, you might say. They’re going to present me with the award at a schwanky “gala luncheon” in a fancy hotel ballroom. This is the kind of place that will be filled with confident, accomplished business people, mostly dressed in power suits and shiny shoes. I don’t think many of them will show up in the shoes they just bought for $5.99 at Value Village (they’re great shoes, by the way!), or the blazer that has the sleeves rolled up to cover the hole in the cuff.

Since this kind of thing doesn’t happen every day, and I want to make the most of my “moment in the sun”, I want to treat myself to some new threads that make me feel good and look at least a little like what you'd expect the "communicator of the year" to look like. No, I don’t want to dress like them (I’m not a power suit and high heels kinda gal), I just want something that suits me and makes me look smart and feel confident (though still unique and a little bit funky).

So…. HELP! I need a personal shopper! I am SO not good at buying clothes for myself! I don’t even know where to begin. Usually I just rush into a store when I need something, grab whatever fits my lowest-common-denominator criteria, and rush out again (or stop for cheesecake if I find nothing and the shopping experience made me miserable – go ahead and psychoanalyze!) I wandered around at lunch time yesterday, and the racks of clothes just sort of overwhelmed me. I don’t know what colours look good on me (with the exception of turquoise – EVERYBODY always tells me I look good in turquoise), I don’t know what’s a good style for my body type, I don’t know where to shop, and I don’t know how to match tops with bottoms.

Anybody have any advice? Or a free Saturday afternoon to drag me to a store and pick something out for me?

Monday morning gratitude

This morning, I feel the warm glow of gratitude after a comfy and relaxed weekend. Some of the things I am grateful for:
- A fun little Facebook chat with a friend who traveled to Ethiopia with me
- Coming to work on Monday morning knowing that I actually LIKE coming to work
- Hosting a lovely, relaxed evening with some easy, comfortable friends
- Having a basement family room that finally feels complete and livable again (and actually looks good too!)
- Watching my healthy, happy girls play soccer
- Enjoying smoked salmon that was caught by a friend on the west coast
- Hosting another visitor from Africa in our home
- Getting the chance to meet another incredible, strong and wise African woman (who made history by becoming the first woman to run her organization, in the first African country to elect a woman president)
- Watching my daughter’s eyes light up as she runs to get her book to show our African guest the piece she just read about Liberia’s (and Africa's) first woman president
- Going grocery shopping and not having to worry whether I can afford to pay for it
- Going to the gym on Monday morning after a week away (traveling) and realizing that I am not a failure – I didn’t let myself sleep in, even though it would have been easy to
- Listening to Maddie giggle as she gets teased by her uncle
- Munching on Cadbury mini eggs with my kids
- Recognizing the honour it has been to stand on the shoulders of people who have mentored me

Kids these days

The thing about having kids is - they keep you humble. If, for example, you should come home one evening and say "hey - guess what? I just found out I've won the Communicator of the Year award for our province!" they will have a delightful way of turning to you with a look that says "yeah, so what?" And then, while you stand there waiting for the overflowing accolades and the hugs of approval, they will proceed to say, "ummm... Mom, it's really not that impressive. I mean really - how many communicators do we know? One! So if nobody really knows any communicators and they pick you to be the best one, well that's not really that much of an honour, is it?"

Getting a little defensive at their bucket of cold water on your previously swollen and rapidly shrinking head, you'll say something like "yeah, but still - the best one in the WHOLE PROVINCE!" And they'll just keep pouring with, "oh sure, it's cool and all, but if you were the best SOCCER PLAYER in the province, then THAT would be something to brag about! You're not exactly the David Beckham of the communications world now, are you?"

Harrumph. Perhaps I should have picked a career my kids could marvel at. But then again, I'm pretty sure David Beckham's kids roll their eyes at him now and then too.

A few things I need to get off my chest...

Dear Mother Nature;
Come on REALLY?! Another day of -24 C? This isn’t funny anymore! Can’t we start talking about Spring? Crocuses? Buds on trees? T-shirts? Yes we’re hardy folk up here in Winnipeg, but you’re going a little too far just to prove it!

Dear Air Canada;
Didn’t you learn in Customer Relations 101 that it is not good practice to sell someone an airline ticket and then, when the passenger (who booked her ticket weeks ago) shows up at the airport, tell her you don’t actually have a seat for her and she’ll have to fly stand-by? Can you stop thinking about the almighty dollar and put an end to your policy of over-selling seats on airplanes? This is the second time it’s happened to me and I am not amused. It’s NEVER happened on West Jet and their flight attendants are SO much nicer, so you can guess whose plane I’ll fly on next time.

Dear friend who gave me and my colleague the free passes to the airport business lounge;
THANK YOU! I felt so pampered (after an intense couple of days) sitting in big-ass comfy leather chairs sipping free wine and munching on cookies while enjoying free internet (and feeling rather bourgeois and privileged all the while). Yes, I felt a little guilty participating in a system that perpetuates class distinctions, but the guilt passed by the second glass of wine.

Dear SAME friend who nominated me for communicator of the year;
Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! You clearly did a good job of describing my accomplishments! I’m gonna owe you big time! May I buy you a glass of wine at the gala luncheon when I receive my award?

Dear friend who hung out with me over Indian food in Toronto;
It was a delight! Thanks for being my friend for 40 years! (Yes, we really have lived that long!) Thanks for trusting me enough to share your secrets. Thanks for being so damn likeable. And thanks for building all those lopsided teepees with me in the bush thirty some odd years ago.

Dear lovely B&B host;
You are a treasure! Thanks for giving me a home away from home in Toronto. I've been to all of the other lovely B&B's but yours is my favourite, partly because YOU are my favourite host. I will be back - you can bet on it. Thanks for saying cute things like "righty-tighty and lefty-loosey". Thanks for trying out your new recipe for coconut french toast for me. Thanks for pointing out the special towels "just for my feet". Thanks for not being one of those cookie-cutter hotels.

Dear people who participated in the two day workshop I organized;
Thanks for being so cooperative and appreciative and for not making a big deal over the fact that I screwed up the two days. You made me feel like a leader again. It was a pleasure spending a couple of days with you. I really, really mean it. It is so comforting to know you’re among good people who "have your back" – especially ones who have such like-minded passions and values.

Dear husband;
You are a good teacher. Why else would all of your daughters' friends beg you to be their substitute? Why else would you get calls from teachers saying that their students had INSISTED that you substitute for their class again? You will be a full time teacher some day, but for now you're doing a damn fine job of being a substitute.

Dear daughters who made it into the soccer teams you were trying out for;
Congratulations. I’m so very proud of you. You’ve both worked hard to develop your skills and I delight in your accomplishments and your drive. Here’s to another summer of sitting on the sidelines cheering for you.

Dear Mother Nature;
Can we get back to you for a bit? You know all those soccer games I’ll need to watch? Yeah, well, I was thinking… Spring? Could you make it a good one? Please?!?

The ups and downs of being human

I'm walking in downtown Toronto and I spot an art supply store. My heart does a little pitter-pat as I remember that I've been there before - it was one of my "stand and gaze and dream about being an artist" moments. I left the store with nothing. This time, feeling emboldened by my recent achievement, I walk in proudly, determined to buy at least a couple of tubes of watercolour. I feel like an artist as I peruse the shelves, looking for the right shades for my next project. I'm glowing with excitement as I lay my items on the counter and reach for my wallet. I feel powerful.

Then the cell phone rings. I find out that I messed up an important date - the facilitators I'd hired for a workshop on Wednesday are actually coming on Tuesday. I'd sent them the wrong date. Now I have a hoarde of people coming from across the country for a two day meeting, and the itinerary I sent out is all screwed up. And the handful of people who are coming (from the local area) just for Wednesday might not be able to come if their schedules aren't flexible. My mood drops. I've screwed up. My self-talk has taken a drastic turn and I'm not an artist anymore. I'm not a leader either. I am a failure.

Wallowing in self-doubt, I leave the store and wander down the street. I enter another store and meander through the sales racks. The store clerk spots my art supply store bag. "Are you an artist?" he asks. I pause for a moment, ready to say "no, I'm really not," but then something inside me rises up and I straighten my shoulders a little. "Yes, I am." "What do you do?" he asks. "Watercolour," I say. "So far." "I'm an artist too," he says. "Mostly I do Chinese form of art."

I leave the store, and though not entirely recovered from the phone call, I feel at least a little buoyed by my first opportunity to call myself an artist.

I am constantly amazed at how quickly self-talk can whirl in an about-face direction.

How do you define yourself today? Or break it down to this very moment? Artist or failure?

The year of living fearlessly - Chapter 5

I used to visit art supply stores and stand and gaze longingly at the rows and rows of paint tubes and brushes. I've done that for years. I wanted to paint so badly, but it was completely overwhelming for me. I had no idea what brushes to start with (what if I used the wrong one?) or which kind of paint did what (what's the difference between watercolour and acrylic?), and besides, I could barely draw a stick figure, so what made me think I could paint?

Friends would take up painting, and I'd be so jealous, but I never signed up for a course. "I'll probably fail," I told myself. "I'm not very artistic."

That was before my year of living fearlessly. This year, I knew I couldn't let those layers of fear and doubt stand in the way of something I've wanted to do since I was a child. This year, I would paint, even if I accomplished nothing more than a stick figure and a tree that looked like a 6 year old's fingerpainting. This year, I wasn't letting failure stand in my way.

I signed up for a class and started buying supplies. But every time I took my supply list into an art supply store, I got that overwhelming, choking feeling again. What was a #1 brush? Was I supposed to buy the paint in tubes or in little cakes like the kindergarten paints? I bought a few supplies, but put off most of it until the night before the class.

Then the worst happened - the night before the class turned out to be the night OF the class. I'd looked at the dates wrong. I had to rush to the only store within easy driving distance, grab whatever I could find, and show up at class 15 minutes late with only half of my supplies. My heart was in my throat. This was NOT the way to start something this scary!

The first 15 minutes of the class were horrible. Others had already started and I didn't get the instructions right. Plus I had to borrow a few things from my seat mate. If Marcel hadn't dropped me off and left me without a car, I might have packed up and gone home.

But then, when water mixed with paint and paint started hitting paper, a transformation began to unfold. The paper, the paint, the paint brushes - they all took hold of me, lifted me out of myself, and the stress began to seep out of my body drop by drop. How incredibly good the paint brush felt in my hand! How incredibly right! I almost started crying right there in that high school art room. This was what I had been waiting for all these years!



Even though we only painted in monochrome that night, and the result was hardly worth bragging about, I knew that I had fallen in love. For too many years this passion had been waiting for fear to loosen its grip so that it could be born - now it was time to let it see the light of day.

Five classes later (too quickly it passed), we were getting ready for the final class. "Bring in a picture to the second last class," she'd said. "Something that is special to you. You're going to paint your first masterpiece during the final class." I selected a few that I thought I was capable of (some easy landscapes and silhouettes), and threw in the one I really wanted to paint but doubted that I could - one of my favourite photos from Ethiopia. "These are easy," she said, flipping through the top of the pile, "you can paint these." Then she looked at the last one - the special one. "You want to paint that?" she said, a little incredulously. I felt the doubt rise again. Maybe she didn't like it. Maybe she thought I couldn't do it. Oh what was I thinking - of COURSE I can't do it! I nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, I think you could probably do that if you tried hard enough." Really? "You probably won't finish it in one day, and you'll have to do the sketching before the class so you use the time in class well."

Gulp. Was I really going to try? What if I failed? Would I want to come back for another class next session, or would I give up? Maybe I should just do the silhouette of the acacia tree from my Kenya pictures. It was so much easier.

But "easy" wasn't what I'd signed up for. I decided to try regardless of how it scared me. I did the preparation work and showed up at class early this time. I was determined. This was not going to be the end of painting for me. I was not going to let fear hold me back. I was determined, but nervous, and almost positive I would fail.

And then, the minute I touched paintbrush to paper, I entered that zen-like state and got lost in the painting all over again. The hours drifted away while I let the paint carry me. Bit by bit, I watched the art unfold. First grey sky, then the landscape. That was the easy part. Would I be able to paint convincing people? The first one turned out not bad. The second was even better. By the third one, I began to believe that I could actually DO this!

I didn't finish that night, but the next night, while Marcel was away and the girls got to watch a little extra TV, I finished the last piece - the baskets. When I was done, I stepped back and... well, it was GOOD! I had actually painted something I could be proud of!


I have been on cloud nine ever since. Who knew I could paint? Certainly not me!

(If you want to see my progress throughout the classes, you can see all of my attempts in a slideshow here.)

When you're six

After losing two teeth in fairly quick succession, Maddie proclaimed, with great delight "I'm gonna get some BLING from the tooth fairy!"

Before I arrived home from work, she'd told her sister "I'm gonna fool mom and see if the tooth fairy is real. I'll keep my mouth closed all evening so she won't see that I've lost a tooth, and if there's money under my pillow in the morning, I'll KNOW it's not mom and the tooth fairy is real!" Yeah, whatever - she didn't last 2 seconds from the time I walked in the door. :-)

Photo compliments of her big sister Julie, one of the budding photographers in this house.

On the way home from a funeral

I sat at the back of the church at a little table reserved for the charity of his choice. I didn't know him well. My only contact had been a few shared meals and his annual visits when he'd picked up brochures for his Christmas charity drive. Oh how he loved to collect donations for people living with hunger! Every year, he'd sit at a table in the mall, and thousands of dollars would roll in because everyone knew that if this was an organization Randall believed in, it was worth supporting.

I didn't even think to bring kleenex, and mostly, I didn't need one. I listened to the obituary and the tributes, and was deeply moved by his children's and grandchildren's memories of him, but it made me smile more than cry. He loved sports, he knew everyone in the community, and over the span of his life, he'd volunteered for approximately 100 organizations (ours being particularly close to his heart). He was instrumental in starting a water co-op and a sugarbeet museum, and he'd served on the town council. He was well loved.

I didn't need a kleenex until they wheeled the casket to the church foyer where I was sitting and the family filed out on the way to the graveyard. I didn't need it until the moment - just before they closed the casket - when I saw his wife of 60 years nearly crumble to the floor as she leaned in to press her face against his just one more time. After 60 years of living with his enthusiasm, his vibrant energy, and his commitment to life and a myriad of worthy causes, she will wake up in a bed tomorrow morning all alone.

I left the church feeling sad and a little lonely. It seemed only fitting that the snow had begun to blow and the stark prairies were made even more stark by their melancholy lack of colour or sunlight. The tears began to flow again as I sat and gazed at the breathtaking yet painful and lonely beauty of the prairies that I love.
(If you want to see a few more of my prairie winter pictures, check out the slideshow here.)

A bunch of random things about me

I got tagged by a couple of people on Facebook to come up with a list of 25 things about me, so I'm cross-posting here. You can decide whether a.) I'm an over-achiever, or b.) I was bored last night.

1. This Spring will be the 25th anniversary of my high school grad. I'm a little freaked out about that.

2. I do NOT feel old enough to have been out of high school that long.

3. I have three daughters, but have given birth four times. My son was born still. But don't feel sorry for me - I'm still a very lucky person.

4. I have a job that, most days, feels like it could not be more perfect for me. Lots of opportunity for writing and other creative things, travel to interesting places, a chance to make a difference in the world - what's not to like?

5. My husband is one of the funniest people I know.

6. I love frozen blueberries with milk. The milk turns all purple and slushy and my daughters turn up their noses at it. But I just laugh and enjoy the cold purple goodness. Mmmm.

7. I love getting published. I have another article coming out in the Globe and Mail next month.

8. My business trips have taken me to Ethiopia, Kenya, Tanzania, India, Bangladesh, Rome, Dallas, and almost every province in Canada. How cool is that?

9. I suffered from a severe case of bedbugs in a rather sleazy guest house in Bangladesh.

10. The photo of my bedbug-bitten legs is my most viewed photo on Flickr. Apparently, alot of people are searching for photos of bedbug bites. My sympathies go out to them.

11. My favourite phrase out of my youngest daughter's mouth is "can you imagine if..." She has a delightful imagination.

12. On the right hand side of my screen (while on Facebook) is a distracting ad for organic wrinkle reducer. I'm starting to get wrinkles, but so far, I have no desire to reduce them. I think there is beauty in aging gracefully. (I'm wondering if the ad is targeted for me because my profile puts me at over 40?)

13. There are many, many days when I long for just one more conversation with my father.

14. I just took Maddie to see Madagascar 2. It was fun, but at 6, she still hasn't learned to sit still in a theatre.

15. I have spurts of creative energy - like sometimes I'll sew for days on end, and then I won't do it for a year. Same goes for writing.

16. I'm going on a date to a French restaurant with my husband for Valentine's Day tomorrow. We don't usually make a big deal about Valentine's Day, but we've been wanting to check out his cousin's restaurant, and now seemed to be a good time to do it. (You can tell we've been married a long time when we plan to stop at Home Depot on the way to check out toilets!)

17. I have a fairly restless personality. If I don't have some change or adventure to look forward to, I get bored and listless.

18. I started yoga last month and I love it.

19. When I turned 40, I got my nose pierced and then jumped out of an airplane (with a parachute attached, thank goodness). Midlife crisis perhaps?

20. My oldest two daughters play alot of soccer and I love being a soccer mom. I'm really bummed when I have to miss a game.

21. I don't feel like a very interesting person, but sometimes when I look at a list of things about my life, I think "hmm... she sounds like an interesting person. I bet I'd like her."

22. I love to read. I have about 30+ books piled up on my nightstand and the floor surrounding it. It makes me feel sloppy and disorganized, but it also makes me feel cozy to be cocooned by books.

23. I'm a fairly messy and disorganized person, and sometimes I think that if people would see the inside of my fridge or my laundry room on a bad day, they'd never want to come back to my house and would probably try to come up with polite reasons why they couldn't be friends with me anymore.

24. I'm just a tiny bit obsessive. Like now, for example. I don't think I can stop this list before I get to 25.

25. I love riding bike and I can hardly wait to start riding again in the Spring. I have a beautiful green and silver Trek mountain bike.

26. I think people are often surprised when they find out how much an overweight over-40-year-old like me loves to ride bike. I usually ride about 22 kilometres a day, and yet, I will never have one of those sleek biker's bodies.

27. When my dad died in a tractor accident, I became a tiny bit obsessed with knowing every little detail of how he died. I'm not sure why - it just seemed important to know what his last minutes were like. My siblings and I went to the ditch where it happened and tried to recreate the details of the scene to figure out how and why.

28. I've just been nominated for a "Manitoba Communicator of the Year" award. I'm flattered, and, well... "Gosh, it's just an honour to be nominated..." (Just working on my rejection speech for when the hordes of media show up to ask me how it felt to lose out to somebody who helped cure cancer by their tireless efforts.)

29. I am slightly addicted to Nutella.

30. I love taking hot baths, but I only take time for them on the weekends because they cannot be rushed. Showers are for days when I have to rush off to work.

31. I don't have many regrets in my life. Either I have a bad memory, or I'm okay with living with my choices whether they turn out well or not. I think it's a little bit of both.

32. I worked for the federal government for 13 years, and though there was lots about it that I didn't love, I met some amazing people, learned alot, and got some great opportunities along the way. No regrets.

33. I should finish this list and go to bed.

34. But 34 doesn't seem like a very clean number to end at, so I need to think of one or six more.

35. I wish Cheryl Tiegs would stop staring at me and telling me I need her secret for looking young at the age of 61. Didn't I already tell you that I don't WANT organic wrinkle reducer?!?

36. I had too many Sour Patch Kids and Coke at the movie tonight. Didn't my hand and mouth and brain KNOW that I'm trying to lose weight? Sheesh.

37. My favourite body feature has always been my feet. I was more than a little disappointed when they started letting me down and I had to invest in orthotic footwear.

38. I just finished reading "A Long Way Gone", the memoir of a boy soldier in Sierra Leone. It is an amazing story that you really should read.

39. My kids like to make chocolate chip cookie dough just to eat the dough. I let them. Does that make me a good mom or a bad one?

40. I made it to 40. I'm going to bed.

Bits and Bites

• Nikki is back home in the fold - safely returned from her week-long exchange trip to Quebec. She had a lovely time, and only let on to being homesick once. She's happy to be speaking English again, though she said by the end of a week living with a French family, she was actually starting to think in French.
• Speaking of French, with Maddie being our third and final child to enter French Immersion school, I am fast becoming the only family member not fluent in French. I keep thinking I should learn it some day, but languages just don't come easily for me, so I get a little overwhelmed with the brain-work I'd have to put into it.
• Facebook is a truly wierd world to be in. Some days I enjoy it (like when I get to interact with my daughter in Quebec, send her silly videos that her dad and I take, and then check out the pictures she and her friends post after the trip), but some days I just find it awkward and strange. Like... do I really want to be "friends" with that guy that I barely said two words to in high school? And should I or should I not be "friends" with staff-members who have to report to me? What about my daughters' friends? And don't even get me started about those people who collect "friends" like a high school popularity contest!
• One of my co-workers became a dad last week - to a wee tiny 1.7 lb very premature baby. So far, he's doing well, but I know they'll have a rocky road ahead of them.
• I'm glad I have a husband who stays on top of things - like the fact that Maddie needed valentines cards for the school party. I'm pretty bad at keeping my OWN life organized, let alone the lives of my children!
• Speaking of my husband, his vast knowledge of Louis Riel facts just won him a t-shirt from CBC radio.

Sun, snow, and skates

This weekend we finally had the kind of magical winter weather that makes a person happy to live in a place with 4 seasons. We've had to suffer through alot to get to these few enjoyable days.

(Because we're all missing Nikki, we had to pick up an extra daughter to make our fun complete.)







(Yes, AP, I have to fight other family members for use of my hat. Luckily it was warm enough to go without.)

The year of living fearlessly - chapter 4

Sometimes living fearlessly means letting your daughter go to a place far away from where you stand, so that she can take steps into her own fearless life.
There are many, many steps in this letting go thing, starting with the moment they slip out from the safety of your womb. Sometimes it's painful, sometimes it's beautiful, and most times it's a mixture of both.

Stuff

1. I'm in Calgary, sitting in a comfy reclining chair at my brother and sister-in-law's. I'll be flying home in a few hours. I just finished doing a round of interviews. Sadly, we're losing our Alberta staff and I have to hire again. Sigh.

2. After 8 interviews, I find it remarkable what different energy people bring into a room with them. Some bring an air of confidence, some aloofness, some boundless energy, and some calm comfort. I could almost always tell within the first few seconds what kind of energy the person was bringing and whether I would find myself drawn to that person or not. It made me wonder what kind of energy I bring to a room. I remember being told once, by a boss who became a really close friend, that the minute I walked into the interview, she knew she would like me and that we probably read the same kind of books. She was right.

3. My brother just brought me a Starbucks chai latte and it's yummy. I kinda like him.

4. In the interests of putting myself out there a little more, and maybe taking on a little more freelance work (it's what paid for my camera, so what's not to like), I made myself a website and my kind brother helped me upload it. Go check it out.

5. My sister-in-law is busy taking goofy pictures of her dog. A few minutes ago she was reading sections of a knitting book out loud to me. And when I arrived two days ago, she handed me a lovely wool hat that she'd knit. I kinda like her. (And now she turned the camera on me.)

6. I have to go catch my plane soon.

Interviewed

I was interviewed by the lovely Karmyn of Dreaming What Ifs...

#1 - You have been writing about living Fearlessly. What is the biggest obstacle you face to accomplish this?

Well, the most obvious answer to that would be “fear” is the biggest obstacle. But to get a little more specific, I think a lot of it has to do with self doubt. When I’m afraid to confront staff members, it’s mostly because I doubt whether I am blameless enough to have removed the log in my eye before addressing the speck in theirs. And I doubt whether I will offer as much grace as I need to. And I doubt whether I’m strong enough to handle their rejection and their calling out of my own flaws. When I’m afraid to try new things or take risks, it’s because I doubt my own abilities and I convince myself I will fail. When I’m afraid to take risks on new friendships, it’s because I doubt whether I’m an interesting enough person to make it worth their while. To be honest with you, I think self doubt is also a little about pride. I don’t want to tarnish my image by falling flat on my face. So this year is as much about challenging my own self perception (and recognizing how that gets in my way) as it is about fearlessness.

#2 - What is the most important lesson you wish to instill in your children about life?

There are a lot of things I want my children to learn, of course. One of my first responses to this kind of question is often “boldness”, but lately I’ve been thinking that integrity is more important than boldness. If they can live with integrity, being true to their values, true to themselves, and true to the global community, I will be happy. I think integrity is a pretty big word, because I think it also has elements of humility and servitude that are really important for each of us as global and community citizens. If I have to pick an area that I was particularly influenced by both of my parents, I think it would be integrity, so I just want to live in a way that passes that on.

#3 - If money were no object, where would you travel to?

Oh… there are SO many places I want to go. It’s always tough to narrow this one down. I’ve been lucky enough to already go to many of the places I’ve dreamed of, but there are still lots more. I just finished reading Honeymoon with my Brother (about 2 brothers who travel around the world after one of them is jilted at the alter), and it instilled a whole lot of new dreams in me and made me relive the really pleasant memories of backpacking in Europe with my sister (back in 1992 – can you believe we’re that old ccap?). One of the places that intrigues me (partly because I did a science fair project on it somewhere around grade 6, and more recently because of the book) is Brazil.

#4 - If you could meet any Leader, alive or dead, who would it be and why?

Hmmmm… This is another tough one. I’m trying to think of someone who wouldn’t intimidate me – who I could sit with in a congenial manner and have a really good inspiring conversation. I really hate those stilted conversations when you meet somebody who’s a celebrity or significant leader, and you just feel stupid and tongue-tied because you feel some pressure to be brilliant and live up to the moment. (In my past job, I met several big muckity-mucks like the 2 former Prime Ministers, Ken Follett and John Ralston Saul, and I didn’t enjoy it that much.) So my inclination is to pick someone who’s pretty down-to-earth. I think someone like Rosa Parks, who was just an ordinary person who made a decision one day that enough is enough. I am most inspired by ordinary people who make bold steps toward change. (I love the quote on this t-shirt.)

#5 - What is the one meal you cook that your family RAVES about?

Well my kids LOVE my homemade oven-baked mac ’n cheese. My husband is pretty tired of the mac ‘n cheese (as am I), but he loves my Thai noodle stirfry. (And if he reads this, he’ll probably beg me to make it for supper tonight.)

Thanks Karmyn!

Anyone else want to be interviewed? Leave a note in the comments, and send me your email address if I don't already have it.

The amazing technicolour dreamcoat and other photos

The jacket that spoke to me in Toronto... (My daughters' reaction? They prefer not to comment on the grounds that it may incriminate them. Let's just say it's not preteen fashion.)
Nicole's first band concert (that's her in the centre front with the clarinet in her mouth). Their band instructor is a miracle-worker who can make grade 7 first time musicians sound good, and grade 8 jazz musicians sound even better.
And this is just a teaser for the next fearless post...

The year of living with a camera in front of my face

After buying my new camera at Christmastime, I started trying new things and looking around for ideas to inspire me. One of things I decided to do was the 365 project on Flickr. Starting on January 13, I'm trying to take at least one picture per day for a year. Unfortunately, I picked a rather challenging time of year to start such a project, because the daylight hours are all when I'm at work, so most of my photography is limited to what I can capture without sunlight. And these days, even when we have sunlight, it so flippin' cold that you don't want to risk frostbite just to get a picture.

By about the third day, I was wondering "okay, so what am I going to take pictures of today?" There are only so many interesting things in my house, and the girls are growing weary of having a camera in front of their face every day. But I keep trying... and I keep longing for the Spring when things start to grow again. In the meantime, this experiment has already afforded me the opportunity to look at things from a new perspective - which is rather fun. (Have you ever laid down on the floor to take pictures of your daughter's feet?)

If you want to see what I've captured so far, go here. (I'm a couple of days behind with uploading - they're sitting on the camera waiting for me to have a.) time, and b.) a few moments when my kids aren't hogging the computer.) If you want to follow the journey, and you're a Flickr user, feel free to add me to your contacts list.

The year of living fearlessly - chapter 3

Just so you don't think I've mastered this fearlessness thing, I'm also going to try to post about the times when I don't feel fearless at all. Like today. There's some fallout or follow-through from the staff retreat over the weekend. Some people saw it as an invitation to open up old wounds to try to find healing for them. I'm not all that good at dealing with old wounds. Mostly I want to stick a bandaid over them and forget about them. But other people feel differently, and so I have to try to honour them.

Today I have a meeting that I'm not looking forward to. I suspect that some of it may be about the places where I've fallen short as a leader and probably even places where I've been the one to do the hurting. I don't want to hear about it. I just want to pretend everything is alright and move on into the future.

I've stolen a quote I found on Olivia's blog and printed it, along with her lovely dragon picture to hang on the wall beside my computer. I want to believe that the person who wants to confront me, a person whom I've sometimes let myself be intimidated by, is just a vulnerable soul like me.

"Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love."--Rainer Maria Rilke

And now I'm going to go for a walk and practice my apologies, my humility, and my boldness... "I'm sorry I hurt you." "I would like to ask you to address this directly next time, instead of letting it fester." "Please remember that we are all human and horribly fallible."
Update: The meeting is over. I am completely drained from the hard work of old wounds, fresh perspectives, other versions of truth, moving past the hurt, and living at peace with people whose world view is significantly different from one's own. Most of the hurts had not been inflicted by me, but as leader, I am at least somewhat implicated.
This "leading with integrity and boldness" thing? It's hard, HARD work.

The year of living fearlessly - Chapter 2

Note: My word for the year is "fearless". Throughout the year, I'm going to write periodic posts about my attempts to live a little more fearlessly. The introductory post and video can be seen here.
I fingered the silk patchwork jacket. My heart did a little pitter-patter in my chest. I wanted it. Badly. I’d often pictured myself wearing just such a garment. Colourful, eclectic, bohemian, artistic, bold, sassy – it said so many things about the wearer that I wanted to be able to say about myself.

I took a deep breath and checked the price. It was on sale. Less than half price. Almost what I could justify spending. Almost. But not quite. Still a little too much for our cash-strapped budget. Besides, did I really deserve something that extravagant? I left it on the rack and wandered the rest of the store, looking for something a little more affordable.

My feet kept taking me back to the clothing rack, however. Finally, after trying on rings, fingering scarves, and draping inexpensive bags over my shoulder, I took the jacket off the hanger. I had to at least try it on.

When I gazed at myself in the mirror, I knew I couldn’t leave the store without owning this jacket. In a few hours, I would fly home, and this would be my only chance. I needed to take it home. It spoke to me. It made me feel at least a little like the fearless and artistic woman I dreamed of being. “Don’t bother putting it in the bag,” I said to the cashier, “I’ll wear it. I have an important meeting to go to and I need a little boost.” And then I nearly skipped out of the store.

A few days later, packing for another trip – this time a little closer to home – I put the colourful jacket into my suitcase. It was a little dressy for the staff retreat I’d be attending, but I didn’t care. I needed the boost of colour and boldness.

I didn’t wear it for the first two days. Neither of those days called for bold, bohemian, or sassy. Neither of those days challenged my perception of myself quite as much as the third day – the day when everyone else would go home and leave me alone to lead my team through some difficult and possibly painful discussions. It was the day that would surely put my desire for fearlessness to the test.

In the morning, I went for breakfast in my new jacket. “That’s quite the jacket. Looks a little like Joseph,” said one of my staff members. “Yup,” I said, “it’s my coat of many colours.” “You remember what happened to Joseph, don’t you?” he chuckled. “Yes, he grew to be a bold and powerful leader,” I said, straightening my shoulders a little. “Yeah, but long before that, he got thrown in a pit. Let’s just say he had some road bumps along the way.”

Road bumps. Yes, that seemed appropriate. This was the day for road bumps. Possibly even the day that I’d get thrown in the pit.

Later that morning, as we prepared for the hard work of the day ahead, I glanced around the room. The tension was tangible – you could read it in the way people sat. None of us really wanted to be there. None of us trusted the other people in the room enough to believe that this day could have positive results. Though nobody was openly hostile, after years of treating each other with some measure of distrust and mild disdain, mixed in with a little unhealthy passive aggressiveness, we weren’t bringing our best efforts to the table anymore. To call us a “team” was generous – we were more like a dysfunctional “group” working on the same things but not really pulling together. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of that I had responsibility for, as their leader. There were definitely other factors – like remote staff spread across the country, unique and sometimes challenging personalities, gender biases, age biases, etc. – but in the wee hours of the morning, when I carried the weight of self-doubt, I wondered what I could have done differently these five years to turn this around.

When the facilitator passed the figurative baton to me, I swallowed a gulp of air, and wrapped the jacket a little tighter around my chest. “I’m not sure where to start,” I said, “but I’ve been doing a little thinking, and I need to tell you about that. I’ve been thinking we have a bunch of great people on the team, but I’ve also been thinking we’re really suffering, and we’re not doing nearly enough to support each other. We’re sabotaging each other, we’re not trusting each other, and we’re not taking risks together. We have to do something about it.”

For the next half hour, I took a bold and vulnerable step and laid my cards on the table. I told them about my personal doubt about being an effective leader. I told them of the many times somebody had come to me to tell me of the hurt they were suffering because of another member of the team. I told them of the times we’d fallen far short of our potential because we weren’t working together. I told them if we didn’t change, we would cease to be relevant.

When I ended, the room was silent. I looked around at the faces to see what they would feed back to me. Would there be hostility? Hurt? Withdrawal? I had no idea what to anticipate.

After a few brief comments, the facilitator encouraged us to take a coffee break. I longed to run back to the shelter of my room. Instead I sipped tea and tried to make small talk while avoiding people’s eyes.

When we returned to the meeting room, there was almost an audible collective sigh as people settled into their chairs a little more comfortably than before. One by one, they began to open up. “I’m glad you said the things you did. It’s hard to hear, but we need to hear it to move on.” “I’d like to acknowledge that I have been hurt and I know that I have hurt others, but I want to try harder.” “I wish we could work on a greater level of trust and respect.” “I could do better work if I knew my team-mates were behind me.”

Throughout the day, there continued to be a gradual softening in people’s posture and their words. There were gentle but difficult truths offered up. There were risks taken. There was respect offered. There was accountability and positive challenge. All of these things had been lacking in our meetings up until that point. So many times we’d sat with the elephant in the room, all of us afraid to speak of it.

At the end of the day, I returned to my room weary but full. Full of the goodness I’d seen in people I’d stopped caring for and stopped trusting. Full of the respect I’d been given when I put myself out there in a raw and honest way. Full of the new light I’d begun to see in people’s eyes.

As I removed my colourful jacket, I wondered, “is this how Joseph felt when he was rescued from the pit and began a journey that would see him rise to more powerful leadership than he could have imagined?”

No excessive noise

I've had one of those weeks that will take longer to process than it did to live. A quick trip to Toronto, a few important meetings, a couple of back-to-back staff retreats that sort of melded into one, a few moments that tested my resolve to live fearlessly, even more moments that exceeded even my wildest hopes, some spaces for new and blossoming friendship, some pure unadulterated fun, some gifts, some disappointments, some moments of living with abandonment and joy, an evening of creativity, a crazy broomball game, and an even crazier evening of African dancing and drumming.

I'll be back here to tell you more, but for now, I feel like I need one of these signs posted on my life.

Fearless

When I am feeling strong, I remind myself of the bold things that I have done, like jumping out of an airplane, taking on a major project that required tricky negotiations with foreign bureaucracies, quitting a secure government job for one with less pay but more passion, traveling to places where there are bedbugs and threats of war, and sending my writing out into the great unknown world of publishing.

When I am feeling weak, I remember the times when I have backed down from conflict, not reached out to a friend because I thought I might get rejected, watched other people get hurt without standing up to the bully, not taken chances with my writing and art, and let exciting opportunities pass me by because I was afraid I would fail.

Lately, I've been recognizing more and more often the many times that fear has stood in the way of opportunities. This year, I want to be a little more fearless.

When I am fearless...

(song by Martyn Joseph)

A moment of respite

(Alternate title: missing Michele while sipping chai latte at the Forks)
With the temperatures hovering around -40 Celsius (with the windchild factor) at least the ice castle won't melt.
(I took the day off to go with Maddie on her field trip to the Children's Museum and took a little extra time for myself at a favourite Winnipeg destination.)

Found wanting

I want:
- Sand between my toes
- A hot bath
- A break from being a leader
- A good hair day
- A little less self-doubt
- A respite from the cold
- A new pair of shoes
- An empty in-box
- A resolution for a tough problem
- An hour in a bookstore
- Hands that don’t feel like sandpaper
- A hot water bottle that doesn’t leak
- A laundry genie
- A fresh mango
- A moment of inspiration
- A few carefree hours with some close friends
- A chai latte
- A warm hat
- A trip or event to look forward to
- A positive outcome to next week’s meeting
- An end to the basement renovations
- A handful of cashews

Where am I now?

This is a bit of a housecleaning random blog post. Just some thoughts that need to be cleared out with the cobwebs in my mind.

- I don’t have a lot of desire to blog anymore. I’m not sure what to do with it – give it up, or try to re-invent it. Or just take a hiatus. Now that I’m having such fun with my new camera, I’ve considered transforming it into more of a photo blog.

- I decided to write a book. And then I told you about it. And now I can’t seem to write anymore. Something is stopping me. I think it’s fear. And of course, the lack of time. But sometimes that’s just an excuse that’s masking fear.

- I’m facing some tough decisions at work. One in particular. The resolution is finally coming clear to me, but it’s a tough road to go down and I want to stomp my foot like a little child and say “No! You can’t make me go there! It’s much safer over here!” Once again, it’s probably fear that’s holding me back. Okay, it’s DEFINITELY fear.

- A while ago, I decided that I needed to reach out to more friends, because I just wasn’t giving enough attention to that area of my life and I was feeling a little lost. And unsupported. And distrustful. The past few days, I’ve had some wonderful conversations with friends – some new, some old. It is reminding me just how good it feels to be known and trusted. And to give someone some truth that you’ve protected. And then they honour it, caress it like they would your tiny baby, and give it back to you a little more beautiful than it was before.

- My oldest two daughters did a lovely thing for their three-year-old cousin. She loves videos and pictures of people that she loves (and, like any three-year-old, pictures of herself). They spent all evening making something special for her and it just fills me with such delight. I’ve never been close to my cousins, so when I see my kids bond with their cousins (like they did at Christmas, with those who don’t live close by), I get all warm and fuzzy.

- I started a yoga class on Saturday. It’s the first time I’m trying it, and I HATE being the new kid on the block (most of the people in the class are seasoned veterans), but despite that, I think I’m going to enjoy it. The nice thing about facing the “new kid on the block fear” is that once you’ve stared it down and done it anyway, you don’t have to go through it again, because before long, you’re one of those seasoned veterans.

- I’m working on a little project. About fear. (Are you sensing a theme here?) I’ll share it with you soon.

- Okay, maybe I’m not done blogging yet.

I want a snow day

We've had quite a bit of snow around here and WAY too much cold. The snow is pretty, but the cold? GRRRRrrrr!!! Life goes on, though - we still have to go to work, school, soccer practices, etc. We're hardy folks and we've got a snow-clearing system that's built up so many years of experience, it can get us up and running in no time.

It seems like, if we have to put up with all of this, the least we could ask for would be at least one decent snow day that shuts down the city so we all have to stay cosily cocooned in our homes. Just one day. Please!

C'mon and let yourself be happy

Quiet

It's been an oddly quiet holiday season this year. Though we had larger family celebrations before and after, the three normally bustling days (Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Year's Eve) were spent quietly at home with just our little nuclear family. It's been nice. Delightfully boring. (Though some of us are getting a little restless by now - Maddie has draped her bathing suit over the couch, hoping it will subliminally convince me to take her to a pool.)

We've all found plenty of time to enjoy our gifts and some of our favourite pastimes (or is that pass-times?)

The book lover...
The art lover...
The music lover...
And the other music lover...
Watching them enjoy their new toys gave me plenty of opportunity to enjoy mine.

Random

I like going to a church where the youth can do a series of silly Christmas pageants where Mary gets to speak in hip-hop and sing opera, all while holding a black baby Jesus. After all those years of lily-white Caucasian babies in the manger, we could stand a few more black ones. (Incidentally, Mary was black too, but Joseph was white. Smile.)

I went to see Burn After Reading with my brother this weekend. What a hoot! Just the last 5 minutes alone is worth the price of the movie (especially if you go to the cheap theatre, like we did). But then again, the last 5 minutes wouldn’t be worth anything if it weren’t for the hour and a half before that.

Why oh WHY, after exercising regularly for almost a year, do I still feel fat and lazy and tired most of the time?

How could any one person, no matter how smart he is, be worth $54 million a year? ESPECIALLY when the company he’s running is busy taking a nosedive into the crapper?

I’d be happy if Christmas were over, and we could just settle into a nice quiet week of family time. Whatever the “Christmas spirit” is, I don’t seem to have any of it this year.

More on Zimbabwe

When I read this piece about the abduction of Zimbabwean human rights defender Jestina Mukoko, my eyes filled with tears. I don't know her, but I wish I did. I want to know bold people who are willing to risk their lives for the sake of peace. I want to be inspired by them. I want to learn from them, even if the learning calls me out of my comfort zone.

I emailed my friend Pugeni a few days ago (after writing this post) and his reply haunts me. I would like to share it with you, but the last thing I would do would be to risk his safety by publicly posting words that could potentially get him into trouble. Just know that it is both heartbreaking and passionately inspiring. One of the stories he told was of a woman who sold her last cow to buy food for her family. It took a week to get payment, and by the time she was paid, the value had deflated so much that all she could afford was a small bag of sugar. (If you'd like to read more about what he said, feel free to email me.)

It feels so impossible to know what to do in light of these incredibly big problems. Some of you expressed those sentiments on my last blog post about this. I wrestle with this every day and I don't know the answer. But because we can't just sit on our hands, let's try to do SOMETHING. Here's a little start:

1. Go to this human rights site and send the email they have posted to demand the release of Jestina Mukoko. Will it do any good? I have no idea, but at least it feels like something.

2. Visit sites like this to learn more about peace activism in Africa.

3. Find good organizations that are at least doing a pebble's worth of good. We can't solve all of the world's problems, but at least we can make sure a few people in Zimbabwe get food. You're welcome to make a contribution to the organization I work for. If you designate it to Zimbabwe, there's a pretty good chance my friend Pugeni will be involved in the work of distributing it. I can promise you that few people have as much integrity as he does and he will do everything in his power to get the food to people who need it.

4. If you believe in a higher power, pray, pray, PRAY. "Pray the Devil Back to Hell."

5. Consider sending letters to your government to urge them to seek peace for the people of Zimbabwe. We can't just let this happen. Surely there must be some kind of global voice that would have enough influence that Mugabe would have no choice but to step down. The Canadian government has already issued a statement about their concern for Zimbabwe, but maybe we need to push them to do and/or say more.

I feel an ache in my heart to go to Zimbabwe, even if all I could do would be to throw my arms around Pugeni and say "Courage, my friend. Courage."

It’s okay Mom, I’m in the back row

Christmas concert last night. (Well, "winter concert", actually.) A normal mom would have figured out a week ahead of time what each child was wearing, whether those clothes were clean, whether there were tights to match the dress, and whether the right shoe could be found that matched the appropriate left shoe. But not me – oh no, not me. It’s at those moments that I despair of EVER being a normal mom.

The concert starts at 7:00, we have to leave the house by 6:15, and I get home from work around 5:30. With no clue what my kids will wear to the concert. Given the fact that nobody in our house ever dresses up these days, anything that resembles a dressy outfit is either buried at the bottom of a Rubbermaid box somewhere, or hanging at the back of the closet of the child who outgrew that particular outfit two years ago.

The oldest two kids fend for themselves (and Nikki wasn’t going to the concert anyway, since she’s outgrown it), so I didn’t pay much attention to the fact that Julie was wearing jeans (at least they were black – a little more dressy, right?) and orange plaid runners to the concert. But Maddie – what would Maddie wear? In a rare moment of forethought earlier in the week, I’d at least bought a new pair of black tights, thinking that I’d find a dress somewhere in said Rubbermaid or closets. But um… wouldn’t you know it – this is the week Julie finally got around to thoroughly cleaning her room (because we had a home inspection for an upcoming exchange student visit) and emptied the closet of all the dresses she’d never wanted to wear in the first place – and there was no dress to be found. Except the sparkly silver one that Maddie refused to wear because it had long sleeves AND it itched. The best I could do was the too-short black dress that Maddie had worn as play clothes a few days before that was now at the bottom of her laundry bin (and that I believe she wore to last year's concert). In my desperation, it seemed clean enough, so we slapped it on and accessorized with one of my beaded necklaces. And shoes – well, we managed to scramble through the right Rubbermaid and found fancy black shoes that fit. Unfortunately, the tights turned out to be about a foot too long, so she had to walk around on huge lumps of folded tights in her shoes.

It wasn’t until we got to the school and I was helping with her shoes that I realized just how dirty the little black dress was. Was that snot all over her sleeves? Play doh? Sigh.

“That’s okay Mom – I’m in the back row anyway. Nobody will see it.”

And so we survived another Christmas concert. And my children have one more story to share with their therapists.

Happy, Merry

Happy Holidays. Merry Christmas. The pressure is on to be happy, merry, and bright. Shiny happy people all lined up in front of a sparkling Christmas tree.

One of my sisters-in-law is coping with the reality of a mother suddenly hospitalized with lots of pain and talk of major surgery. Another sister-in-law is preparing for her recovering-from-a-stroke mother to move into her home and change the fabric of their family. One of my employees is preparing to bury his father this Christmas season, and hopes that his brother will make it to the New Year. An old friend, on top of having a way-too-young husband in a care home because of MS, has been off work for a year because of thyroid problems and major depression.

Happy and Merry probably won’t be in their vocabulary this Christmas.

None of these are really my sadnesses to bear, and yet I feel a little heavy this morning. I'm looking for an alternative greeting for "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays". Maybe just "peace".

Sabbath

Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.
It seemed an impossibly archaic legalistic rule
Back on the farm when Mom and Dad napped on Sunday afternoons
Even on bright sunny days late in the harvest season
When crops needed to come off the fields.
Nobody worked on Sunday. Period.
The only work you were allowed was the feeding of people and animals.
Instead, you visited, shared food, and napped.

Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy
I sit impatiently in church, thinking of all the tasks I need to do today.
At home, I start sorting laundry before digging through the cupboards
To find something to feed the children.
Then I settle in to wash yesterday’s dishes.
Before I’ve even had a chance to eat something
I rush out the door to drive the first 2 family members to where they need to be
On the way home, I stop at the store for a few household items
Then rush home to pick up the next 2 family members.
I drive them to the mall where they’re meeting friends.
The first 2 family members are ready to be picked up
So I drive them home and return to the mall.
Their shopping done, I drive the friends to their respective homes
And then return home to sort more laundry.
A quick supper, eaten mostly between vacuum strokes and laundry loads,
I rush out the door for an evening meeting
Where we plan a long list of activities for visiting exchange students.
Meeting done, I’m back home, folding laundry. Sorting. Piling.

Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy
At ten thirty at night, I toss the last load in the dryer
Crawl into bed. Spent.
Exhausted. I need to sleep
Because tomorrow I go back to “work.”

I wish I could figure out how to reclaim the Sabbath
Because I think God is smarter than I am.

You think WE'VE got problems...

The political challenges we face in Canada (and even in the U.S.) pale in comparison to what they're living with every day in Zimbabwe. I just wrote a press release about a seven million dollar shipment of food we're delivering there. Unfortunately, it's a drop in the bucket because the UN predicts that 5.1 million people, nearly half the population of Zimbabwe, will require emergency food aid in the first quarter of 2009. On top of that, they're saying that they expect about 60,000 people to contract cholera before the outbreak is stopped. And meanwhile, Mugabe claims the outbreak is over. Can you really trust a man who's hacked off peoples' hands for voting against him?

This is the first time I can remember seeing the word quintillion used. Not even the U.S. bailout package uses numbers that big. My friend Pugeni once told me that when you go to the grocery store to pick up a jug of milk, the price has inflated before you can make it to the till.

Last night, I was watching the video clip (linked above) where Mugabe is talking and Maddie wanted to know who he was. She could hear the sadness in my voice when I started talking about the country he leads and the horrible things he's done to people. When I told her that he's the leader of the country where our friend Pugeni lives, her eyes filled with tears. "It's okay," I said, "I'm pretty sure Pugeni is alright. So far." I can't promise her the moon, after all.

From across the room, Nikki shouted, "Why doesn't somebody just shoot him?" And I said, "well, my dear, I'm surprised nobody has yet. But it wouldn't be the solution we'd want to see. Because we believe in peace."

We believe in peace. I have to repeat that like a mantra when my anger rails at a situation so beyond my control but so close to my heart because I grew so fond of our special friend in the short time he was here.

Canadian Parliament, the Kindergarten Version

Just when the U.S. seems to be getting their act together, our government is falling apart at the seams. It seems to me we expect better behaviour from our kindergarten kids than we do from our government representatives. And with that thought, for the benefit of those of you from other countries who are even more confused than we are, I give you the kindergarten version of what’s happening in the leadership of our fine country…

There’s a guy named Stevie who’s been trying to take control of the sandbox for a few years now, but every time there’s a vote, the kindergarten kids only give him less than half of the sand (called a minority) and tell him “you can run the sandbox, but you have to play nice with the other leaders so that you’ll get enough support for the things you want to change.” Well, Stevie doesn’t like this very much, because he really wanted the WHOLE sandbox, so he starts playing the bully by taking the sandtoys away from the other boys and telling them they have to listen to HIS rules because he controls the most sand. Needless to say, the other boys in the other, smaller parts of the sandbox, Stephie (not to be confused with Stevie), Jack, and Gilly aren’t too fond of the way that Stevie is pushing them around. Even though they’re usually too busy fighting with each other to notice, this time they all stop what they’re doing, get together for a little chat with some of the older boys from Grade 5 who used to play in the sandbox, and they decide “hey – if we put our sandbox pieces together, it adds up to a bigger piece than Stevie’s got and then WE could take control.”

Meanwhile, back in Stevie’s corner, he’s getting pretty ticked off at the other boys for not playing the way he wants them to play. First he says “okay then – I’ll give you a FEW toys back if you’ll still let me lead.” Well, that’s not enough to keep them happy – they want ALL of their toys back. And they want him to come up with a plan for getting more sand in the sandbox and not letting any of it leak out around the edges. Stevie gets even more mad, so he tells everybody that the Stephie and Jack are stupid because they’ve made friends with Gilly who’s really just disguising himself as their friend when what he REALLY wants is to take his portion of the sand and build a whole new sandbox somewhere else. But nobody listens to Stevie’s whining, because a few years ago, Stevie did the very same thing – made friends with Gilly to try to take control.

Stevie starts getting really nervous that he’ll lose control of the sandbox, so he runs to the Kindergarten teacher, Ms. J., and says “the other boys – they’re not playing fair! I’M the one who’s supposed to be running this sandbox and they’re trying to take over!” And then, because he knows that Ms. J. will be impressed with big words, he asks her to “prorogue” the sandbox – which in kindergarten-speak just means shut it down for a few weeks until he can figure out how to take charge again.

Ms. J. doesn’t feel like she has much choice (she hasn’t been given a lot of power in the playground), so she agrees and Stevie gets his way. The sandbox is closed and all the boys have to find something else to do for six weeks. Stevie thinks this will be just enough time for the other three boys to remember that they really don’t like each other and don’t want to work together to overthrow him.

The problem is, though, that over in the other side of the sandbox they’re not sure who should take leadership of their new partnership (otherwise known as a coalition), because Stephie owns the bigger piece, but none of the people he shares it with think he’s doing a good enough job of leading it. So Mikey and Bobby start fighting with Stephie because they think they should have dibs on that corner of the sandbox and they start working out a plan to push Stephie out so that eventually they can push Stevie out. It looks like Mikey’s winning, but Bobby gets mad and says “but Mikey didn’t let everybody else vote!”

And meanwhile, all of the other kids in the playground are saying “Hey – what about all of our sand that nobody’s looking after while you guys are fighting? It’s leaking out that big hole in the side of the sandbox (called a “recession”) and nobody seems to be paying attention!”

Stay tuned for the next edition of Kindergarten Wars, Parliament Style.

What I did

I'm sorry to keep you all in suspense, but after an intense couple of days of board meetings and presentations, I kinda crashed. And then it was a busy weekend, so I didn't spend much time on the computer.

What I did was mostly D with a little bit of E thrown in just because I'm human and SO not perfect. I calmly but firmly said to him "No, I don't believe that the problem with most non-profits - and the reason they have trouble getting the word out - is that their communicators and educators are mostly young, female, and have nothing but a degree in literature, I believe that the problem is that these young talented individuals are not given enough respect by the leaders of these organizations (that's the passive aggressive part - I meant HIM). The problem is that their work is valued less than the work of the programmers."

And then the next day, because I realized I was giving it too much brain space so it clearly still bothered me and was important enough to follow up, I sent him an email outlining why it concerned me and how I wished he would be able to offer me and my colleagues enough respect so that we could work together on a more equal playing field. And I cc'd it to my boss and the chairperson of the board, because I wanted him to take it seriously and not just brush it off as just another whiny female who's got her knickers in a knot.

Now I'm back at my computer and there is no reply from anyone. And the suspense is now killing ME!

I've worked in enough fields where I'm one of the only women at the management or board table that I've gotten used to holding my own when it comes to the odd bit of chauvinism. It's really not that prevelant anymore and what does exist is so marginalized by the honourable men in the room that I can brush it off. Just like in parenting though, you've got to pick your battles. I figure when the chauvinism masks a bully underneath, then it's worth standing up to.

Moral dilemna

Here's the scenario: you're having lunch with 5 people. Two of them are members of the board of directors for the organization you work for. One of them is your boss. The other two are consultants that you have hired who've come to the board meeting to make a presentation on your behalf. You are the only woman at the table. One of the board members makes two statements: one of them essentially dismisses all of the work that you (and your team) do as inconsequential, and the other one dismisses all women (and especially younger women, and even more specifically younger women with degrees in literature - which you happen to have) as inconsequential. All of the other men at the table chuckle uncomfortably and most of them cast sideways glances at you.

What do you do?
a.) Sit demurely and let him heap on the insults?
b.) Blast him with both barrels and call him out for being an ignorant, narrow-minded, sexist old fart?
c.) Wait for one of the other less-bigoted men at the table to come to your rescue?
d.) Calmly and respectfully put him in his place and point out the error in his statements?
e.) Take the passive-aggressive approach and find underhanded insults to throw at him?

I'll come back later to tell you what I did.

Nothing much to say, but that never stopped me before

How foolish of me to admit that I’m writing a book, because wouldn’t you know it – those simple words had the powerful affect of sending the muse into hiding. I can no longer write. I simply sit in front of my computer screen and daydream. And pick my nose now and then. These few random thoughts are the best I can muster.

My new office makes me feel happy. For the first time since I started this job (4 ½ years ago), I feel like I’ve really taken ownership of my space. The first office in the old place was big and square and always felt a little awkward. I never got the desk in a position I liked it, and never got around to hanging some of the things I wanted on the walls, so it never quite felt like my space. Then I got down-sized (because we were running out of space and two people needed to share my big office) and I didn’t really have enough room in the new office to make it look pretty or even un-cluttered. Plus the walls were a dull shade of beige and seriously in need of a paint job. This space is different. I love my orange wall, and my wall of windows and I’ve hung a bunch of my favourite photos of people I’ve met in Ethiopia, India and Bangladesh. Plus I’ve got some gauzy fabric draped over my bookshelf and windows. Some of my colleagues are still working out of boxes and few of them have anything on their walls yet. They stop by my office and gaze in envy and admiration at my pretty space.

The photo that’s hanging directly above my computer screen is the one below of Dilip Arong who lives in the Sundarban Islands in India. I love LOVE this picture. We met Dilip and his family on the second last day of our trip, when we’d spent a near perfect day on a rickety old boat putt-putting along from island to island, visiting people who’d lived through a horrible flood the year before. Dilip’s amazing smile and contagious sense of joy reminds me of the beauty and resilience of the people I’m working for.

I’m meeting my friend and mentor Gisele for lunch today. Gisele will always hold a special place in my heart. She was the first person who hired me to be a manager and over the years she has taught me a lot of lessons about trusting that people will give you their best if you give them enough encouragement. The last time we had lunch, her parting words were “it feels a little like our roles have shifted and you’re starting to mentor me.”

At lunch time one day last week, I ran across the street to pick up some pictures just before 1:00. Half an hour later, I was eating in the lunch room when someone came in and said there'd been a shooting on the street and police had taped off the bus stop in front of our building. It turns out someone got shot in the bus stop just moments after I walked past.

The fourth anniversary of this blog is coming up in a few days. My how time flies. Back then I was preparing for my first trip to Africa (to Kenya and Tanzania), and now I’ve got pictures of people I’ve met all over the world hanging on my wall. Lucky me.

Two of my favourite employees gave their notice recently (for health reasons). I’m seriously disappointed. They’ll be tough to replace. (On the bright side, B&S, it will mean I'll have a trip or two to Alberta in the coming months. Hope, if it brings me to your neck of the woods, I'll look you up too.)

Some years (like the year I lost my dad, my uncle, and my grandma in a three month period while working at a job I seriously hated) feel like they are just one excruciatingly long dark night of the soul. Pain upon pain is heaped upon you and all you can do is try to keep your head above water. This year feels like the opposite of that kind of year. It feels like contentment.