Look way up!

I am walking to a meeting downtown when I spy the nest. Tucked up in the higher branches of a tree that pokes its head up from a circle of earth in the concrete of the sidewalk, the nest is empty. The mama bird has flown the coop and so have her chicks.

I think about hope. Faith. About holding onto a dream and a belief that if you do the right things, take the right steps, build your nest in a tree above the earth to keep your chicks away from predators, all will be well.

And I think about life.

About the fierce instinct to survive that comes into play the moment the umbilical cord is severed and we must breathe on our own. How our lungs fill up with that first gasp of freedom and we cry out. In fear. Shock. Relief. Joy.

And I think about growing up.

About our desire to fit in. To fill in the gaps behind that first breath. Our need to find our place, where ever it may be and stay the course. Take the journey. Be on the path of life, no matter how dark, narrow or deep it may be.

For the almost six years I worked at a homeless shelter, I told the crowded room where I was speaking on behalf of the United Way of Calgary and Area yesterday, I never met anyone who said, “When I grew up I had a dream. I just knew. I wanted to be homeless, or an addict or an abuser and every step of my life, from birth to now was taken with that goal in mind.”

Homelessness. Addictions. Abuse. Violence. All those things that tear our homes and hearts apart are not a dream. They are our worst nightmare come to life. We don’t take steps to end up in homelessness, or to become an addict or to abuse our children. We take steps to hide our pain, confusion, anger. We take steps to keep going away from what we don’t want to feel or see or know. We take steps to keep moving forward and as our options narrow, as we find ourselves without resources or mired in an addiction we never meant to hold onto, we find ourselves lost.

Which is why, I told the group of people gathered together to kick-off their corporate United Way Campaign, we must create a net to catch people. We must work together to ensure that when people fall, and fall they will, there is someone, something there to catch them, to hold them up, to give them hope. To lift them off the street.

I saw a nest on a busy downtown street yesterday and I wondered about the mother who built it. I wondered if she knew the dangers of the city. I wondered if she realized that the fall from the branches wasn’t far, but it could be deadly.

And I wondered if anyone was there to catch her babies when they left the nest in the hopes of flying free.

As you go about your day today, look around you. Check out the potholes, the crumbled bits of sidewalk, the obstacles that could trip up unwary travellers. Look into the eyes of the panhandler, the woman pushing her cart laden with belongings. Look deep into their eyes and ask yourself, “Are you just like me? Did you once dream of flying free?”

No one dreams of homelessness or addictions. No one dreams of sleeping under a bridge or in a cardboard box. No one wants to walk away from their home, their belongings, their life because it’s a fun and exciting. They do it because they have no other option. They do it because they believe leaving the past behind is the only direction they can go to find themselves somewhere else.

And when that somewhere else is the street, hope dies, dreams crumble and they are lost to the numbing truth that all their best efforts lead them here.

We cannot change the path someone took to get to the street. We can change what we do to support the work of those committed to helping people lost to the street find their way home.

If you’ve never shared a dime to help someone on the streets, try it. It might set you free to making a difference in ways you never before imagined.

This year’s United Way Campaign is in full swing. Let’s give what we can. Let’s do what we will and let’s make a difference because… we can. Make a difference. Together.

Give. Act. Volunteer.

Yesterday, I was coaching in the Givers 2 room, a place I can be found every weekend the Choices program is held in Calgary. I love being part of the Givers 2 team. I love the connection, the friendship, the sense of being on purpose working together with others to create a space where miracles unfold — and that is the most important aspect of what we do. To be present, to hold the space and allow — nature, Love, hearts, the opportunity to breathe deeply into the wonder and awe that is at the core of our shared human condition.

On Sunday’s, the day always begins with a spiritual ‘stretch’. A one hour opportunity for everyone to explore what it means to be spiritual beings, what it means to be connected to a power greater than ourselves, or however that is known through our own individual experience.

The speaker yesterday was a man for whom life had dealt a harsh blow. Eight years ago, his beautiful son Cameron died on an operating table at the age of 12. Afterwards, when I asked Todd, who was the speaker, if  I could share some of his story, he graciously told me I could. His story was powerful and moving. It spoke deeply of his faith, and in hearing it, I was moved by the grace of God, and the power of the Universe. I was awed.

There is a process in Choices that takes people on a journey along a trail to encounter the people in their lives who have had an impact. For most of us, this is our mothers and fathers. In his journey, Todd also encountered his son, Cameron. Todd entered that path carrying with him the anger he felt towards this God who had taken his son.  He harboured feelings of ill-will for this Being who could do something so cruel and incomprehensible. He was mad. And then, Todd met up with Cameron by a waterfall. He was smiling. Loving. Joyful. And with him, around him, all through him God’s love shimmered. And it was then that Todd saw the truth. While he had been angry with God, God was not angry with him. God embraced him in arms of Love. He comforted him and held him close, just as he always does, said Todd. No matter how far we stray from God, God is always there.

And then, Todd read the letter he had written to God the night after his encounter by the waterfall. He read it out loud to the 200+ people gathered in the room yesterday morning and we were moved to tears. Compassion. Love. Sorrow. Joy. They flowed through the room, into, around and out of hearts opening to the realization that as Todd shared, we were all connected through the wonder of our human spirits’ journey — We are not human beings on a spiritual journey, said Todd. We are spiritual beings on a human journey.

“Our life here now is but a breath,” said Todd. And in his words, I breathed into the grace that tingled in the air all around. I breathed into the knowing that I and you and we are all of the same spirit, the same essence — beautiful, magnificent, delightful, divine. No matter our faith, colour, history. We are all the same.

Yesterday, I saw into the heart of ‘the one who breathed stars into existence’ as Todd described it, and felt my soul sing, my heart break-open and my mind come to rest in the grace of being part of this human race.

Yes. Incomprehensible things happen in this world. We fight. We kill. We squabble. We hurt ourselves and each other. We do not share our wealth so that all the world can eat or drink clean water. We do not open our minds through eyes of love to see our differences as the beautiful essence of what connects us all. We do not celebrate our divine essence and instead run away from the truth of being connected through our being human.

We forget. The miracle of our birth. The essential beauty of our divine essence. The essential magnificence of our being human.

We forget.

It is time to remember.

In the telling of one man’s story I remembered yesterday. And that is enough to make a difference today in how I approach my day. Stepping out from the darkness of believing, I do not make a difference, I celebrate all the difference we make when we breathe into the truth of our magnificence and soar.

Everything Tandy Balson does embodies the meaning of making a difference. From being a caring wife, mother, grandmother, sister, aunt, to being a Big Sister, sharing her light through motivational talks to various audiences around the province and coaching at Choices, Tandy makes a difference. I met Tandy through Choices. In the rarefied air of the training room where miracles unfold with every breath, Tandy and I have stood side-by-side sharin what every coach is asked to bring into the room, Love.

Tandy is a loving woman. As today’s guest blogger she shares how important what we do is, no matter how big or small. You can catch Tandy shining brightly most days of the week at her blog, Time With Tandy. Do drop over to say hello. You’ll be warmly welcomed and will come away refreshed!

Sometimes You Just Need to Show Up

Guest Blog by Tandy Balson

Making a difference is something that many of us aspire to.  In fact, several years ago, when asked what title I would choose for a book based on my life, I answered “She Made a Difference.”

We think that we must do something big, something noteworthy, to make a difference.  In actual fact, sometimes all we need to do is be present.  This is something I have learned firsthand over the years.  The last few years I have been a mentor with Big Brothers Big Sisters.  This is not their regular program, but instead is spending one hour a week, during the school day with a student.  We don’t do school work, we just spend time together.  It seems like such a simple thing.  Other than getting her out of class for an hour, am I really doing something that impacts her life?

Usually we play games like Yahtzee or dominos.  Occasionally we bake something.  There is limited sharing but the relationship has become more familiar and now includes some laughter and teasing.  She doesn’t give me a lot of details of her life and I don’t probe.  Questions tend to shut her down.  We’d been together for a year and a half and it still didn’t feel to me like we had a great connection.  My schedule was changing and it wasn’t always possible to meet every week. Maybe it was better for her to have a new mentor, one that could not only be there every week, but could connect with her on a deeper level.  I told the mentoring co-ordinator and the school counselor of my decision.  When I told my mentee, the response was totally unexpected.  She fought for me!  She told the powers that be, that she would rather see me every other week than someone else every week.  A bond had been built that was stronger than I had realized.   The rules were bent to allow this match to continue.

A meeting with the co-ordinator recently let me know that my showing up, giving her my time, had indeed impacted this girl’s life.  I sat with tears running down my cheeks as I was told of ways that I had made a difference in her life not only for today, but to be carried into the future.  It seemed like such a little thing, spending an hour together.  Other than her birthday and Christmas, I brought no gifts.  That’s where my thinking was wrong.  The gift I brought was the gift of myself, of caring enough to be there and spend time with her.  The gift that she has given me is showing me that it doesn’t take grand gestures or huge sacrifices to make a difference.  Sometime all you need to do is just show up.

*******************************************

Thank you Tandy!

Tandy’s Blog:  www.timewithtandy.com

It was a week filled with encounters with people of the hero kind. People doing their ordinary tasks in extraordinary ways.

And it was a week where a great man died. Former Premier of Alberta, Peter Lougheed, passed away on Thursday, September 13. He was 84. Mr. Lougheed was responsible for my once being a card carrying conservation, working to support a Progressive Conservative in his bid to win a seat a seat in the provincial legislature. He was responsible for my pride in this province. My belief in the power of each of us to have a voice. He was a statesman. A man of integrity. A man of vision. And he is gone. His heart quit beating its fierce tattoo, but his legacy continues.

Peter Lougheed was a hero and his light shines on.

Yesterday, I sat on a United Way panel to talk about Youth and the work the United Way of Calgary and Area does to support the agencies working with youth and the work they are doing to ensure youth have the opportunity to grow up to be all they can be.  From Heather Innes, the UW moderator and Kiran Kadavil, the UW team member responsible for Community investment work with youth and Andrew Tse of the Calgary Boys  & Grils Club, I was in brilliant company.

Heather Innes, Kiran Kadavil, Andrew Tse and people who put into action UW campaigns with such enthusiasm and commitment — you are all heroes.

Running a campaign is no small task. Organizing speakers is one part of the undertaking that can be daunting. Adyam Sendek is charged with just such a task, and she is undertaking it with grace, learning the ropes as she goes and shining a light on the chaos that happens every fall when the UW campaign kicks-off.

Adyam Sendek is a hero.

I love music and, when I get to be in the presence of performers who shimmer in the brilliance of their musical expression, I bask in the reflection of their light and know it is true. We are all connected. Last night at their concert in the Jack Singer Hall, Deva Premal/Miten connected us all through their music and song. They connected us through their warm, engaging smiles, their encouragement to sing out loud, to stand up and be one. And, they connected us through the mantras they sang with such grace and ease I floated into bliss without ever leaving my seat.

Deva Premal/Miten and their flutist, Manose are heroes.

And… to give you a taste of the brilliance of their performance…

In 1985 when she was born, this was just a day like any other. Every year family and friends gathered together to celebrate her special day, just as they gather all around the world for others born on this date (like my niece Kristi who shares this birthdate). Then, on her 16th birthday, this day changed. It was transformed by horrible events that unfolded on the other side of the continent. In the space of a few hours it became a day to mark, to remember, to never forget. Instead of celebration, it became a day of mourning.

Like billions of people around the world, I will never forget when I heard the first news that a jetliner had crashed into the New York World Trade Centre. I was on an elevator, riding up towards my office when someone asked if I’d heard the news. I hadn’t listened to the radio that morning as I drove my daughters to school on my way to work. We’d laughed and joked and been listening to their ‘tunes’ on the CD player. News of the world was far from my mind.

And then, I stepped off the elevator into my office and saw people huddled around televisions everywhere. It was true. The World Trade Centre had been hit.

I left. Went across the street to where my youngest daughter was in junior high and the entire school was in shock. I took her out for the day. Who knew what might happen after such an event?

My eldest daughter wanted to stay with her Grade 10 class. They were discussing the events and she wanted to be part of the conversation.  I phoned my friend Jane and told her I’d picked up Liseanne. Can you pick up Curtis too? She asked. And I did.

I don’t remember if we discussed Christie’s birthday. The girls and I had already sung her Happy Birthday on the phone. Before we’d heard of the tragedy.

I remember feeling scared. Unsure. And more than anything else, wanting to shield my daughter from the events transpiring in New York and Washington and a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania, a town I’d never heard of. I picked up Curtis and his friend Johnathon and took them back to our home. At first, I turned the TV on but had to turn it off. I couldn’t take my eyes off what was transpiring and I didn’t have answers for these three young teenagers. And not having answers scared me.

It was our choice of movie that made me laugh. I’d suggested to the kids that we go watch something funny. How about Rush Hour 2 the boys suggested? It had just been released.

Not having seen Rush Hour 1, I took their lead. And that’s what made me laugh. Two thirteen year old boys made the decision of what movie we’d watch on a day when the world was in shock. A day when violence was sending shockwaves around the globe and I went and sat in a shoot-em out, blow-em up, explode everything in sight kind of film.

It was the only time I remember laughing that day. Not at the movie so much as at myself. Thank goodness I had girls, I thought. I wouldn’t know how to deal with all this testosterone on a daily basis!

I took the boy’s home after that and my daughters and I huddled together at home, watching and not watching the news. I did my best to reassure them but it wasn’t enough. How do you reassure your children the world is a safe and loving place when hatred explodes from the sky?

And I wondered about the mothers in Iran and Iraq and Afghanistan. I wondered about mothers all around the world who helplessly watch as their children cower in the darkness of moonless nights as guided missiles scorch the earth and incendiary bombs light up the night. I wondered if they too felt as helpless as I. I wondered if they too went to bed and cried, their minds lit up with worry about what will happen to my children. What will happen to our world?

It has been eleven years since that horrible day in September 2001. Christie’s sweet 16 is long forgotten but this year, her mother and father, my dear and much loved friends, Al and Jane, held a Happy Sweet 16 for Christie. We gathered together and toasted this amazing young woman who’s smile lights up the room and whose laughter lifts even the heaviest heart.

Christie is 27 today. 16 + 10 + 1.

It is a special day. A day to celebrate her birth.

A day to remember all that makes this world an amazing and wondrous place.

And, it is a day to never forget, we cannot create peace when we hold hatred and indifference and judgment in our hearts.

Let us not forget and let us always remember — we are the stewards of this earth. We are the makers of war, and peace. Let’s choose peace so that Christie and those like her will know their birthdays are days to celebrate, not forget.

Happy Birthday Christie! What an amazing woman you are!

Sometimes, the biggest difference I can make for myself is to stop, take a breath, and give myself a break.

Today, I’m doing just that.

Don’t know if it’s a flu bug or something I ate, but me and my stomach are arguing about who has the right to speak. My stomach is winning.

Why is it bugs wake up during the night and fight to be heard when I want to be sleeping?

Regardless, it’s a really short blog today. And while the bug seems to have gone to sleep, I’m going back to bed to see if I can get some sleep too.

See you tomorrow!

Namaste.