A wee bit of BS

Anyone who knows me knows how much I love to laugh. My friends also know I rather like my laugh. It is contagious when it is at its best. I love hearing other people laugh with me. Unfortunately I have not laughed nearly as much in the past eight or so months as I would have liked. I have shared somewhat vaguely that things have been difficult for me. I remain purposely vague in hopes that others who might be struggling will still find hope and encouragement in my writing even though their circumstances may be quite different. I have a counter on my blog but really do not know how many people read it, how many enjoy it, how many find it helpful, or how many find it at all useful. Yet I keep writing because it might matter to someone. I always knew my situation would change. I knew it would improve. I knew I would make it through. I have great friends, I have great hope, I have great faith. As I sit here this evening typing, I am reflecting back on the past few weeks and how muc...

Recently I was at an event where I saw a woman I have great admiration for. I have known her for many years. I have admired her strength, courage, compassion, grace, and tremendous love for others for as long as I have known her. I also do not see her in person very often so I always consider it a treat when I do. When I left the event I made sure to say good bye to her and as she hugged me, she also said "I just love you." It may seem odd but those words, as opposed to "I love you," really moved me. I wish I could think of the words to describe how it made me feel. It was kindness. It was care. It was honest. It was simple. The impact of those four, simple words left me wondering why I was so moved by them. I wonder if we hesitate to tell people how much they really mean to us out of fear. Fear of rejection, fear we won't hear a similar sentiment in return, fear of hurt? How often do we tell those most important to us how much they mean to us? Do we tel...

I first went to Ireland in the summer of 1993. It was a very different time then, a time before the 'Celtic Tiger' hit the economy. It was a more relaxed time and people did things a wee bit differently. I went to work at a camp for inner city youth for the summer. When we (four of us from North America) first arrived on the camp site we would call home for five weeks we had a list of tasks to complete. The field was actually a former walled garden on the large estate not far from Dublin. I remember one task was to board up a large gate. We had plywood, tools, and more than enough people to get the job done quickly and efficiently. However, we were in Ireland so we did not. One tool we had was a tape measure. At that time, our Irish colleagues did not have much use for it. Instead, two of them would carry the plywood to the gate, another would mark it with pencil, bring it back to us and cut it. This cycle was repeated a few times and was never fully completed. Needless to sa...

We have all been there. Waiting. Waiting for a medical appointment. Waiting for a friend. Waiting for our car to be fixed. Waiting for clothes to dry. Waiting for the weather to change. Waiting. It is a part of life. Back in the mid-90's when I had a lot of medical appointments I learned to bring something with me to do to help pass the time waiting. Suddenly it did not matter to me if the doctor was a bit late. I had a book, or knitting, or something else I could work on. The times when I did not have something to do, the waiting seemed to drag on longer. Even when I worked at Starbucks we would talk about waiting. Customers will be more patient waiting for their beverage if the barista talks to them, acknowledges them. Yet if they are ignored, they are more aware of time passing and think they are waiting longer than they really are. This causes frustration for the waiting customer. Lately I have been thinking a lot about waiting in my own life, as well as the lives of some...

I spent most of the summer of 1993 in Europe. I was a part of a large group that spread out across Europe volunteering for two months. After our 'work' was done, we gathered together again to spend a few days travelling together, seeing Germany, Austria, and the Czech Republic as we talked about our experiences and prepared to head home. One of our stops was in Berlin. It was also one of the few times we had a whole day to just sight see. I was with three other women from Manitoba as we set off for the day. At 6 pm we decided we would start to head back to the hostel. We came to a very large roundabout with five choices. Our tour bus driver had taken us by there the night before so we were a wee bit familiar with it. Yet we were not sure which road of the five to take. One of the women in the group suggested one and I said it didn't seem right. The others in the group were a bit irritated by my comment and asked which road was the right one. I said I did not know what the...

Over the past few weeks I have had the privilege of talking with some dear friends about the changes I have observed in them over time. A few friends have been in my life for decades. Others only a few months or years. Yet all had the same trait. All had changed significantly for the better. I always point this out to people when I see it. So far no one has complained. One friend even said that was one thing she loved about me. Life is hard. I think we all know that. There are also a lot of things that happen in life beyond our control. Some days it can seem as though we have little control over any parts of life we want changed. Yet if we stop long enough, take time to slow our heart and mind, we sometimes see things we can change. Maybe it is just our attitude or outlook. Maybe it is our perspective. Maybe it is just changing the notion in our mind that nothing will ever change. Whatever we can change, when we do, things start to improve a bit. Whenever I share with friends the...

I moved into the West End of Winnipeg over nine years ago. I first lived on Furby at Sargent. To say it was a rough part of the neighbourhood might be an understatement. However I always felt safe. Nothing bad ever happened to me. When a supposed crack house appeared across the street things seemed to be a bit more active. In the two and a half years I lived there, there were a few shootings, a couple of stabbings, two sexual assaults, and a curb stomping...that I knew of. I came home or woke up to police tape on my street more than once. Yet I still felt safe. For reasons I cannot explain I almost seem invisible in my neighbourhood. When people talk to me they are kind. The same cannot be said for other women in my community. It was my first winter on Furby when I awoke one morning to the sound of a woman calling for help. I looked down from my third floor window to the walkway between my apartment building and the building next door to see a man on top of a woman. At least that...