Yes, Everyone CAN be Mother Teresa

In the spring I was sitting in a meeting with about a dozen other people from my community. We were having a discussion about adult involvement in children's extracurricular activities. During the course of the conversation I made the point that it takes very little effort to positively impact a child. I used the example of our decision to make our home as open and welcoming as possible to our kids' friends and how this practice has lead to many great conversations with our kids' friends about social issues and personal responsibility. Most people at the meeting just nodded but one person, who I know well and work with often on community issues, said, "Well, we can't all be Mother Teresa."

In the moment I just shrugged off this snarky reply as it was very out of character for him but, clearly, his words have stuck with me. I've thought about them often over the last couple of months. I've questioned whether I expect too much from people. I've wondered if I am too Pollyanna-ish in my views of what is possible. I've pondered whether my enthusiasm for the things I care about actually turns people off from being part of the solution. I've questioned, wondered and pondered but I've come up with no clear answers.

The last several weeks have been full of moments that lead to opportunities of personal growth ... that's a nice way of saying I've been stretched to my breaking point more than once but I've made it through alive and a little smarter than I was before. Anyway, in the midst of all this stretching and growing I've thought a lot about who I am and who I want to be. I've taken a good hard look at the things I give my energy to and whether my actions back up my words. I've also started working again, which has only fuelled my passion and sharpened my focus.

So, it was with some new life lessons under my belt and a better sense of the direction of my life that I thought about that Mother Teresa comment again and I finally have formulated a comeback.

"Yes, in fact, we can all be Mother Teresa."

Mother Teresa didn't set out to make a name for herself, to start a movement or to even help thousands of people. She set out to bring comfort to one person, dignity to one life and peace to one soul. That's it. She only ever sought to be useful where she was with whatever tools were at her disposal. She wanted the people in front of her to know they were seen and valued. She wanted her one life to make a difference in the life of just one other person. And when she had done all she could for that one person she moved on to help the next person and the next. She changed her world one life at a time.

A couple of weeks ago I had the privilege of meeting an author and speaker whom I greatly respect. She was lovely and encouraging in the few moments I had with her and just before I walked away she wrote a message on my notebook. I quickly glanced at it, thanked her and walked away. It wasn't until a few days later that I really read it and the difference between what I thought it said and what it really said set me free to just be who I am, where I am.

I thought she had written Change the world! but she had actually written Change your world!

I may not be able to change the world but I know I can change my world. I may not be able to solve global poverty, to feed millions of starving children or provide clean water for the nations but I can give generously to the causes that speak to my heart, I can donate food to my local food bank and I can collect change to donate to the well project my kids' school in participating in. I may not be able to cure diseases and comfort the dying but I can be the best friend, mother, community member and pastor that I can be. I communicate love and peace and hope and joy through a thousand small decisions everyday. I can see the people right in front of me and let them know they are valued.

I can be Mother Teresa. Here. Right where I am.

And so can you.

If you can't feed a hundred people, then feed just one.
~Mother Teresa

Back at 'Er

I sat down yesterday to blog and realized that I've forgotten how. After a four and a half month blogging sabbatical I've lost my groove. There are things I want to say, funny little stories I want to share and deep stirrings of my heart that I want to express but I can't seem to get going.

I had actually planned on returning to the blogoshpere  weeks ago but life and my own neurosis got in the way. I used the excuse of end of summer, back to school, back to work busyness to cover for my fear of the keyboard. I was afraid that once I sat down to write here again I'd discover that whatever magic, whatever connection we had - blogger and reader - would be gone, faded away from lack of attention and care. I didn't want to discover that my moment had passed so I hid behind the excuse of everyday mom life stuff. I hid from the very thing I wanted most, I hid from what I love because I was afraid it wouldn't love me back.

Then I asked myself, "Does it matter? Does it matter if no one reads your blog ever again? Does that change who you are? Does it diminish your worth as a human being?"

"Um, I guess not."

No. It doesn't. Part of being a grown up person is understanding that your self worth isn't tied to what you can do and who and how many people notice what you can do. Your self worth comes from inside of you. It comes from understanding that you, alone, as you are, are a magnificent being. That your loving heart is beautiful. Your quirks and goofiness are charming. Your generosity is breathtaking and your presence in the world is irreplaceable.

As I step back into this blogging thing that I love, may I encourage you to rediscover the thing that brings you joy. Embrace that gift, talent or hobby that makes your heart sing even if nobody notices. Especially if nobody notices. Live your passion for your own soul's sake, not for praise, adulation and recognition because applause fades but contentment in your own worth never does.

“We cannot think of being acceptable to others until we have first proven acceptable to ourselves.” 
― Malcolm X

We Stand to Honour

This morning I was in Dude and Crafty's school when the national anthem was played. I was standing in a hallway with half a dozen grade five boys who decided chatting and dancing through the anthem was appropriate. In the split second it took for me to decide how I, the adult on the scene, was going to address this I had a flashback of the day my own Enlightening occurred and what an impact it made on me.

I was in the ninth grade and it was early in the year. I was still trying to decide what I thought of my very tall, kind of hairy, basketball obsessed homeroom teacher, Mr. Kennedy. He wore ties with ducks on them and had a poster of Larry Bird above his desk. He also had this weird thing with Canada; he called it patriotism.  It all seemed a little sketchy to me.

Like I said, I was in the ninth grade, 14 years old and stubborn as all get out. I had recently injured my knee and truth be told, I was totally milking it. And he knew it but it wasn't until the morning I refused to stand at attention for 'O Canada' that he called me on my attitude and schooled me on showing proper respect.

I stood for the anthem but leaned on my chair. Apparently I wasn't the only slacker that morning. After the anthem was finished, Mr. Kennedy informed our class that we would stand for an additional five minutes and we would stand at attention. No leaning. No slouching. At the end of the five minutes he informed us that we had earned our disrespectful selves another five minutes at attention because of the chatter, sighing and leaning that filled the previous five minutes.

I said, 'no.'

I claimed that my knee was too sore to stand for another five minutes and I was certainly incapable of standing without leaning on my chair. Although my knee was achy, the truth was that I was bored and decided that this was the moment I was going to make my power play. This was my moment to put this unconventional teacher in his place. He quietly walked toward me, removed my chair and said, 'you will stand.' I looked him in the eye said 'no' again. He stared right back at me. I cracked and tears began to roll down my cheeks. He walked back to his desk and started the clock.

For the full five minutes I silently cried. Not because my knee hurt but because my pride hurt. He called my bluff and I was embarrassed. At the end of the five minutes, in which not a soul moved or breathed, he returned my chair and told us all to have a seat. He then spent the next several minutes explaining the words in the national anthem, the legacy of Canadian soldiers and how our small act of daily remembrance is important so that none of us ever forget the great price that was paid for the life we live.

He finished his talk with these words, "Boys not much older than you gave up their lives so that you can live freely in this great country, the least you can do is stand for three minutes a day and remember them."

Mr. Kennedy was the first person and only person I can ever remember explaining the significance of our anthem and the importance of standing with respect and remembering, honouring, those who fought for our freedom. From that moment to this, if ever I have wasted an opportunity to remember and honour during our national anthem I have felt guilty, like I have cheapened the gift of freedom.

So this morning, as I told the boys to stand at attention and stop talking, I thought of Mr. Kennedy, of the brave men and women who fought, on the battlefield and in the legislature, throughout our nation's history to bring freedom and protect her citizens. I thought, I honoured and I wondered. I wondered if these kids understand. If they understand the price of freedom, the gift of freedom. I wondered if they have ever been told that the simple act of standing at attention for three minutes is our small gift back.

 I wonder.

We only need to look at what we are really doing in the world and at home and we'll know what it is to be Canadian.
~Adrienne Clarkson

100 Aker Wood Wisdom

I'm having an Eeyore day. Nothing is really wrong but nothing is really right. I'm feeling a little uncertain of my place in the world, a little disconnected and a little bit like I'm spinning my wheels. I am questioning whether the places I am putting my time and energy are the places I am supposed to be putting my time and energy. No worries, though, its not like I'm having a major life crisis ... I'm just doing a little self reflection. And self reflection sometimes turns me into Eeyore.

My whole life I have adored Winnie the Pooh. I have collected books, figurines and stuffed animals from these wonderful tales for years. There's something about that roll polly little bear and his rag tag group of friends that touches my heart and captures my imagination. There's also a lot of wisdom floating around the 100 Aker Wood.

Every now and then, when 'The Eeyore' mood strikes me, I pick up a volume of Pooh Bear classics and I flip through the pages, reading sentences at random. Every time I do this, without fail, my heart swells and my courage is boosted. I am reminded that thinking too much isn't all that its cracked up to be, that love is not particularly dignified or tidy and that's okay and friends come in all shapes and sizes.

Here are a few of my favourite A.A. Milne bits of wisdom ...

"Rivers know this; there is no hurry. We shall get there someday."

"Love is taking a few steps backward, maybe even more ... to give way to the happiness of the person you love."

"You can't stay in your corner of the forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes."

"Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them."

"Some people care too much. I think its called love."

And my favourite ... today ...

"How do you spell love? You don't spell it, you feel it."

So today, as I am wondering why my life feels stalled out, I will remember the river. When I feel lonely, I'll step outside my corner of the forest. When I feel as though I am going backwards, I'll acknowledge that maybe I need to back up a bit for the sake of the happiness of those I love. When people drive me nuts, I will take the time to know them better so that I may behold their beauty. When my heart feels so full that I'm afraid it might break, I will relax, know that its not madness but love that is filling me. And lastly, love isn't an exact science, it is meant to be felt, to be lived and to be expressed and I will rest in that.





The things that make me different are the things that make me.
A. A. Milne

Apocalypse Now

"Dad, what's a zombie?" Crafty asked from the back seat. We were driving to my parents house and the kids were talking about legends and myths. We had discussed Big Foot, who we decided might actually be Dude (he has huge feet and smells bad, apparently) and The Loch Ness Monster and vampires. Now it was the zombie question.

"Well, zombies aren't real. But people say they are people who aren't dead but they aren't really alive either. They just eat and grunt and don't really know how to interact with others." Mr. Awesome answered.

"Remind you of anyone?" I snickered. Mr. Awesome nodded and laughed.

Dude had had his face in his iPod for an hour and a half. We had tried to engage him in conversation but all we got out of him were a few random grunts. The only time he'd spoken real words to us on the drive was to ask when we were having lunch. He was surly, distant and rude. I was annoyed.

Zombies and kids. Zombies and kids. There's something there ...

Here's what I know about zombies. They breath and move and take care of their basic survival needs, like eating, but they aren't really living. They don't acknowledge others around them, unless they are being bothered by them. In that case their 'acknowledgement' is harsh, rude and self serving. They are temperamental and spend a lot of time hunting and killing the weak and vulnerable.

Hmmm ... sounds vaguely familiar.

Here's what I know about teens. They are alive but aren't living in our world, for the most part. They spend their days disconnected with real, living people in favour of virtual realities. Their minds are engaged with building virtual worlds, hunting and killing virtual animals, people and even zombies. The bulk of their interactions with the other Unalive is in the form of text shorthand and, more often than not, they are sitting in the same room as them. When you do finally get one of these teen creatures to lift their heads from their devices what you often get is a temperamental, self-serving and rude interaction.

We are living in a zombie apocalypse right now. Only its not some random virus that has claimed our brains ... its technology.

Seriously, think about the last time you were waiting for a table at a restaurant, waiting in a doctor's office or, well, just plain waiting anywhere. What were the other waiting people doing? You can't recall? You probably missed it because you were doing what they were doing. Playing on your phone. Checking emails and text messages. Trying to get to the next level in Candy Crush. You were in your own world. And so was everyone else around you.

What happened to people watching? To having random conversations with strangers? To being okay with having a quiet mind?

I totally get the need to shut your mind off for a while. I enjoy a good round of Candy Crush as much as the next person but what concerns me is that our kids aren't learning the art of conversation. For instance, I was recently having a conversation with a man who teaches Sunday School to a group of junior high boys. He was exasperated because no matter how hard he tries, he can't engage them in conversation. His statement to me was, "I don't even think they know how to talk to each other."

Sad but true.

Technology is great, it is convenient and connects us in ways that we were never able to connect before. But if we're not careful, it can disconnect us in ways that can be so detrimental to our sense of community. We need people. We were created for relationship. And just to be clear, relationship is not a status on your Facebook page.

Relationship is a living breathing thing. It thrives under care, communication and time. It requires face to face human contact. It requires a measure of selflessness. It requires an interest in others. It also requires intention. We need to be intentional about building relationships and teaching our kids how to build relationships. They need to see us interacting with one another, caring about the people in our world and spending time cultivating friendship. They need to see it so that means we have to do it and we need to call their attention to it. We need to pry their Unalive hands off their lifeless devices and engage them in the world around them. We need to wake them up to the wonderful thing that is this life!

We are living in a zombie apocalypse right now but its not too late. We can reclaim the Unalive, whether adult or child. We can teach them how to live again. We can build relationships and waken them to the magnificent thing that is community!

It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity.
~Albert Einstein

The Broken Pieces

We've been in the process of packing up the kids' rooms to do a little bedroom swap. We've been in this process for a year. Just when we get one kid's room sorted and packed another kid will have started unpacking their room in search of some precious 'lost' item. And in the midst of all the packing and unpacking we've been distracted by vacations and the start of school and the end of school and Christmas and Groundhog Day and lazy Saturdays and busy Wednesdays and all the random chaos life brings. So, its been a year since we've started this process and we still haven't moved one kid or painted one wall.

But still, we're in the process.

Crafty and I have recently started packing up her room ... again. This has required me to step into the Hoarder's Paradise that is her wee den and begin the monumental task of sorting trash from treasure. As we have been tossing scraps of paper and saving assorted glittery bits of girly goodness we have come across tiny bits of broken seashells. The first few I found I threw away but Crafty soon busted me.

"Don't! I need those!"

"Need what?"

"My seashells! They're special to me. They're my collection."

"But these are just the broken pieces, not the whole shells. I won't throw out the whole shells."

"You won't throw out the broken pieces either. They are just as special!"

"But they're broken. You can't even tell what kind of shell they are from and all those sharp edges could hurt someone."

"But they are mine and I can make something new and beautiful out of them."

Well, I couldn't argue with that so as we sorted through her room we began putting the broken pieces in a jar. As we cleaned and sorted her collection of broken pieces grew. The more pieces we added to the jar, the more beautiful her collection became. I didn't notice the sharp edges as much, instead I began to see how the light reflecting off one piece and on to another created the most beautiful shades of pearly pink and watery blue.

We still have a lot of sorting and packing to do in Crafty's room and I'm sure we'll be adding to the collection along the way but it occurred to me, as I looked at the jar of broken pieces, how we are so like those pieces.

Things happen in life, things that chip away at our original shape and beauty. We get hurt and damaged and we end up with a lot of raw, sharp edges and on our own, unprotected we can be dangerous and ugly and seemingly, without value. But all that changes when we are picked up, placed in the protection of a jar and surrounded with other imperfect yet beautiful pieces. We become a collection that reflects and enhances the beauty around us.

Life is messy and people can be unkind but when we choose to live in community with one another anyway, when we choose the risk of relationship over the security of isolation amazing things happen. We gently rub the sharp edges off of each other, we sand down the roughness. We draw out a deeper, richer beauty from each other than we ever possessed alone.

Don't write people off because they're broken. Don't discard them because they are rough around the edges. Don't wait for perfection before you offer friendship ... or accept it. Don't discount your own value because all you see is brokenness.

There is divine beauty in the broken. And there is wholeness to be found in community.

We are all wonderful, beautiful wrecks. That's what connects us--that we're all broken, all beautifully imperfect. 
~Emilio Esteves 

The Price of Acceptance

"Why can't adults see what kids do to each other?"

That was Crafty's question after watch the documentary Bully. I had no answer for her. My heart was breaking. We had spent an hour and a half watching a documentary of kids being abused, marginalized and let down by the adults in their world. This was the third time I had watched the documentary but it wasn't getting any easier.

The first time I watched this film I was crying 14 minutes into it. I was devastated by the blatant acts of violence and cruelty kids were committing against each other. I was horrified that the adults in the situations seemed so ill-equipped to deal with what was happening and I was heart broken because I knew that this wasn't a work of fiction, that this was real life for far too many kids, for far too many kids in our own community.

I then watched the film again with Dude and Crafty separately. I wanted to hear their unbiased take on the film and I wanted to give them opportunity to process and talk about the similarities and differences from the film to their own school experiences. 

Dude and I had a lengthy discussion about fear and intimidation. We talked about how being targeted changes who you are and how you see yourself. We also talked about suicide and impulsive, destructive acts that leave a wake of devastation. We talked about what has happened to him this year and reviewed some of the plans we had made to help him get help when he needs it.

When I watched the documentary with Crafty I was surprised at how many of the same scenes that caught Dude's attention also affected her but her perspective was often very different. In one scene a boy is walking through a school yard and another boy comes up to him and punches him. The boy who was punched then follows the one who punched him. When Dude watched that he yelled at the TV, "Don't go, you're not safe!" When Crafty watched she quietly said, "That's the first kid to even notice him, no wonder he followed him."

So when the film finished and Crafty asked why adults don't see what kids do to each other I asked for clarification. I asked her if she felt that the adults in her world don't see when kids are being aggressive and harmful to each other. 

"They see when we hurt each other, like the hitting and kicking and stuff but I don't think they see how kids torture each other with popularity."

Wow. Out of the mouth of babes.

I knew exactly what she meant. We had had many conversations and brainstorming sessions in recent weeks surrounding this very topic. Crafty and her pal Ace are often roadkill on the highway to middle school popularity. They have been run over by peers eager to climb the social ladder, they have jumped on the bus in a desperate attempt to survive only to discover that the bus they were on was taking them further from who they really are and far too many insults and put downs have been flung at them from those racing along in pursuit of their own position of belonging. 

Crafty and I sat for a long time and talked about the price of being accepted, the true cost of inclusion. She said that she wasn't looking to be popular, just accepted for who she is and who her friends are. She doesn't want to be front and centre, she wants to be part of the crowd, just one of the group. But even the price for baseline acceptance can be steep.

She cried as she told me how she has been caught up in gossip, how she has been pressured to abandon her friendship with Ace, how she has behaved in ways that she's not entirely comfortable with just so she can earn a seat at the lunchroom table, literally. His experience has been no different but despite mocking, gossip and cruelty these two pals have stuck it out.

Yesterday, as I watched Ace and Crafty walk off toward his house I marvelled at the resiliency of friendship. These two, like many other independent souls, have walked a hard road this year and yet when they are walking side by side they find an ease in their stride. Their burden is lighter when shared under the banner of acceptance and their hope is strengthened in the safety of unspoken promise to remain loyal pals.

I don't think its enough to teach our kids to be kind to one another. I think we also have to teach them to respect friendship wherever they see it, even if they don't 'get it.' I think they need to understand that being a good friend isn't just about being friendly to the people you like but its about  accepting that everyone desires friendship and the friendship they find should never be a target for ridicule.

But that's just what I think.

If I was king of the United States, I'd make it so there was no popularity. I'd make it where everyone was equal.

~Trey, The Bully Project

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for more information about The Bully Project watch this trailer and check out the website mentioned.