I am engrossed in conversation with another woman when I walk into the ‘Timmie’s’ around the corner from the office where I’ve been consulting. I don’t see the woman sitting by herself at a corner table until I get to the front of the line. As I stand beside her she looks up and I smile.

“Louise!” she says, standing up to greet me.

“Hello Sharon*,” I say as she wraps her arms around me in a big hug.

She is a substantial woman. Solid. Long salt and pepper hair streaming down her back.

“You look good!” she says. “You must be in love!”

I laugh and reply. “Of course! Does it show?”

“Yup.”

“How are you?” I ask. “Where are you living now?”

Sharon was a client at the shelter where I used to work. She used to come up to the art studio to draw and create ‘art objects’ or to simply sit in the quiet and journal. She lived on her own, off and on, but mental health issues often tripped her up, bringing her back to the shelter when she could no longer sustain her independence. I was hoping the news would be good when I asked my question. I was hoping she would be thriving.

“I don’t have a place right now,” she told me. A shrug of one shoulder. A wry, lopsided smile punctuating her words.

“Are you back at the shelter?”

She shook her head. Looked down. “No. I’m sleeping rough right now,” she mumbled. She paused. Looked back up at me. “I should be hearing about a place today. I’m hoping I get it.”

“I hope so too,” I tell her. “Are you working with someone to help you?”

“Oh yeah. I got it all under control.”  And she smiles, big. She shows me the cigarette between her fingers. “Gotta go feed my vice!” And she laughs, grabs her purse and heads towards the door. “It was nice to see you Louise. You always make me smile,” she calls back before heading outside. In an instant she is gone.

I get a phone message from a woman who has battled her way out of homelessness. She’s just been diagnosed with her second round of cancer and is undergoing chemo. “I’m okay,” she says in her message. “I just want to tell you how blessed I am to have my parents and my special friends.” And she hangs up without leaving her number, which is blocked on my caller ID.

I want to connect with her, with Sharon, with other women like Julie whom I met earlier in the afternoon when I interviewed her for an annual report I’m writing for an agency that provides affordable housing here. I want to connect and tell them how it doesn’t seem fair to me. It doesn’t seem right that life should hand them such tough causes. That the world can be so blind to their struggles.

I want to tell them, Sawbonna. I see your soul.

I learned Sawbonna from my beautiful friend, Margot Van Sluytman whom I am meeting for coffee this afternoon. Sawbonna is an African word and the name of her latest book. Sawbonna: I See You. Dialogue of Hope.  Sawbonna is a beautiful, poignant and inspiring journey through grief and anger and pain and depression towards the healing Margot finds in forgiveness after meeting the man who murdered her father when she was 16.

Sawbonna is what I want to tell these women on my path.

I cannot change their journey. I cannot give them answers. I cannot take away their pain, or sorrow, or fear or whatever they are feeling.

I can stand with them. Be present.

I can bear witness to their struggles and be present to their stories. And in my presence, I can be part of the circle of hope that in telling our stories, we create new stories of possibility, of life beyond the pain, of life lived joyfully in the promise of what can be when we are, as Julie described it earlier in the afternoon when talking about her home, safe.

I cannot change the world. But, to make a difference, I can be present. I can say, Sawbonna. I see your soul.

It was the breakup of his relationship that brought him down. Really down. Tired. Feeling bone-weary. No energy in the mornings. A tightness in his chest. Pounding in his heart.

At first, he told himself it was just the after-affects of the break-up. “Get over it dude,” well meaning friends told him.

But he couldn’t get over it. It kept interrupting his peace of mind. Breaking into his consciousness and pummeling his will into submission. And then, he took an online screening test for depression and discovered what was at the root of his unease.

Yesterday, when I met with Craig Lester from 660 News to talk about an online chat he has organized for the radio station on Friday, he shared his story of why he wants to educate people about depression.

“Can I share your story with others?” I asked.

He was quick in his response. “Yes. Of course. That’s why I tell it. I want people to know what happened to me so that maybe from my experience they can avoid going as deep as I did into depression.”

Craig Lester is making a difference.

Big time.

This week on the radio station he has produced a series on depression, interviewing one of the world’s foremost experts, Dr. Michael D. Yapko, whose book, “Depression Is Contagious — How the most common mood disorder is spreading around the world and how to stop it“ presents a radical and enlightening look on how our social systems are the foundation of depression. We don’t need to run to drugs, says Yapko, we need to run to eachother.

Craig is reaching out to everyone to ensure they know — no matter how sad you’re feeling, there is help. There is a way out. Included in his series, Craig has interviewed people who have suffered from depression, as well as Dianna Campbell-Smith, the Director of Counselling at the Calgary Counselling Centre. It is a fascinating and informative look at a dark subject.

Untreated, depression can drive you deeper into the darkness to that place where suicide appears as the only answer. Depression should never kill. Yet it does. According to the Canadian Mental Health Association:

• Approximately 8% of adults will experience major depression at some time in their lives.
• Suicide accounts for 24% of all deaths among 15-24 year olds and 16% among 25-44 year olds.
• Suicide is one of the leading causes of death in both men and women from adolescence to middle age.
• Almost one half (49%) of those who feel they have suffered from depression or anxiety have never gone to see a doctor about this problem.

Depression hurts.  Suicide kills.

People like Craig, (and blogger, author, speaker Lee Horbachewski whose book, A Quiet Strong Voice, about her own battle with depression and several suicide attempts is being launched this month) are making a difference.

Mental health makes a difference! How’s yours?  Are you feeling happy, sad or glad? Is anger getting a rise out of you? Is sadness bringing you down?

Don’t let the ‘stigma’ of mental health be your reason for not checking it out.

On Friday, May 11th, visit

660News.com

for a live chat on depression. A counsellor from the Calgary Counselling Centre will be online between 10 a.m. and 12 p.m., to answer questions and provide help. The live chat is open to anyone who wants to talk about depression, are looking for information or just need someone to talk to.

It was a small, intimate gathering in my living room last night. Don and I spent half an hour rearranging chairs and furniture to give the best viewing for everyone who came to my first ever house concert!  Don Bray, is my friend from Orillia, Ontario whom I met last year with his wife and fellow musician, Alyssa Wright, at the Haven. He was passing through Calgary, promoting his latest CD (which is fabulous), I Am Myself and was staying over for a couple of nights on his return trip east. I had asked him if I could put on a house concert with some of the proceeds going to my favourite charity, the United Way of Calgary, and he quickly agreed.

And so, last night, Don sat at one end of the living room, his guitars perched on stands beside him, while we gathered on couches and chairs around him. It is his warmth and ease with people you notice first. Don makes eye contact. He ‘sees’ you when he greets you.

And we all felt it last night. As people entered the house, he said hello, chatted about life, his trip, his CD. He asked questions of others and we shared while we waited for latecomers to arrive.

And then, the evening began. Don chatted about his musical and non-musical career. He shared his love of life today, his depression of the past, his dark periods and his struggle to ‘love himself’. And we all related. He told stories that made us laugh and cry and feel connected. And in between his stories, he sang the songs of  life. From a little boy eager to hit the hockey rink every day after school learning the meaning of standing up for himself, to first slow dances and the regrets of missed kisses to the excitement of finding his first true love on the Internet, only to discover he was reading their obit, to lost opportunities and broken hearts and soaring spirits, Don took us on a journey of life. With every note, he wooed us with his voice, the power of his words and the amazing versatility of his guitar playing into that place where ‘the world’ falls away and we are all one with eachother in a circle of love and joy and peace and, as one friend in the audience said, “there is always hope!”

It was divine.

What a simple and easy way to make a difference.

Invite some friends over to join in an evening of song, raise some money for the musician and your favourite charity (in this case, the United Way of Calgary) and go home feeling alive, connected and inspired.

We had it all last night. Great music. Great companionship. A bite to eat. A glass of wine. A shared experience worth treasuring, and repeating.

Who knows… I could make this a monthly or bi-monthly gig.

It was fun and everyone benefited.

And as everyone left, we all agreed, the evening made a difference.

As I drifted to sleep last night, I wondered… did I laugh today? I mean really laugh. Deep, rolling laughter that burbled up from my belly, tumbling over itself to be released.

It’s important. To laugh every day. Out loud. Just for the fun of it.

My friend Mary would also tell you, it’s important to cry every day too. There’s so much sadness and sorrow in the world, she told me once. And so, to cope, to deal with it, to let it flow freely, she gives herself permission to cry for a few minutes every morning.

It makes a difference, she says, in how she flows through her day. Having a good cry is healthy. It frees up room to be present without sad feelings for the world’s woes getting in the way for how she deals with her day.

When I was first released from the relationship from hell, I knew I needed to cry. Lots. There was so much pain, sadness, sorrow, grief stored up in my body, I knew I had to let it flow.

But I was scared.

As a child, I remembered my mother crying, a lot. She suffered from depression and I was terrified that if I started crying I would never stop. Most of my life I had pushed back tears, damming them up behind the wall of my perfect smile. I didn’t like to cry.

But I knew I had to let my tears flow. I knew I had to give myself permission to ‘feel bad’.

To teach myself that I could be safe with my emotions, I gave myself permission to cry, everyday for ten minutes on the hour.  The other 50 minutes, I had to do something that was healing and affirming of me. (I was really broken when I got out of that relationship. I had spent almost five years cowering in silence and after the first day of lying in bed crying, I knew I had to teach myself not only how to feel my emotions but also how to stand up and be strong.) On those days, when all I wanted to do was cry and cry and cry, I reminded myself to ‘wait!’. It wasn’t my crying time. And so, I’d wait until the hour and then let myself cry for the proscribed time (I continued to shorten my crying time as I felt myself healing). And when my crying time was over, I’d have to continue to do something positive and affirming for myself. Sometimes, that meant getting outside and taking Ellie, the wonder pooch, for a walk. Other times it meant writing, volunteering, job searches — whatever I could to take a step away from grief into the light. It wasn’t the particulars of what I did in the other 50 minutes of each hour that made a difference. It was that I did something positive and affirming.

In time, I taught myself that it was okay to feel my feelings, and let them flow. I discovered I had the power to choose how I expressed my emotions, and, equally as important, that crying, like laughter, is healing.

My tears made a difference. In letting them flow, I honoured my pain and sorrow, I acknowledged my grief. I didn’t need to hold onto it, but I did need to let it go. Tears helped.

And so did laughter.

To make a difference in the world, it is important that I be healthy — not just physically, but emotionally, mentally and spiritually too.

Tears and laughter help.

Take time today to feel your emotions. Take time to let them flow. Take time to let yourself be made different through expressing yourself with more than just words. Laugh. Cry. Dance. Cheer. Scream. Yell. Go throw eggs at trees.

Let your emotions flow and give yourself the gift of freedom to be all of who you are meant to be in the world.

You’ll be glad you did — and so will the world around you!

Nestled in the giant firs that cling to the shoreline of Emerald Lake Lodge, a string of two-storey, bright green steeple-roofed cabins offer shelter and seclusion to visitors year round. C.C. and I always ask for a cabin as far from the main building as possible. We like the walk after dinner, the stars a glittering blanket of awe-inspiring splendour above, the night crisp and clear all around us. The view from our main level cabin, bracketed by fir trees, looked out over the still frozen lake to the majesty of  the snow-covered President Range  and Emerald Glacier on the far side. It was breath-taking.

There is no traffic at the Lodge. Cars are parked on a lower level with the Lodge providing shuttle service to and fro. Admist the silence of the fir trees, only bird song interrupts the quiet.

Except when someone is yelling and cursing. Then, the silence is marred by human discord spilling out into the silence, creating ripples of unease all around.

It was early evening, the light still bright on the lake. C.C. and I were sitting quietly reading, a fire burning brightly in our room when voices began to penetrate the calm around us. Surprised, unsure what we were hearing, I stepped out onto the deck to listen. The voice was loud. Close, and angry. It was a woman. Yelling. Cursing. Abusive. Disgusted at something, someone.

I wasn’t sure what to do. It was easy to tell they were in the cabin above us. It was easy to tell their deck door, like ours, was open.

I considered the options and called back to C.C. who was sitting reading by the fire. “Do you think I should knock on their door and let them know we can hear them?”

C.C. waved me to return inside. I admit it. I had purposefully raised my voice so that I could be heard by anyone above who happened to be listening.

It only took a moment. There was an abrupt stop to the angry yelling. Silence descended. The cursing stopped and calm returned.

It took me awhile to let go of the effects of her harsh words and discord. I kept shrugging it off, breathing into peace but I must admit, later on at dinner in the lodge, I did listen to voices of other couples in an attempt to see if I could tell who it was. I doubt I would have said anything, but I was curious as to what could be so important that the peace and tranquility of a mountain retreat in one of the most romantic settings around could be disturbed by such violent anger.

C.C. who knows how curious I can be, gently nudged me to pay attention when he saw me looking around the dinner room, listening closely to other people’s conversations (I know — nosey!). I smiled sheepishly and turned my attention back to him. It was hard not to listen to him anyway. He was reading the menu to me with an Italian accent — and his Italian accent is atrocious! In the laughter dappled halo of our dinner conversation, I forgot about the woman of the harsh voice, and focused instead on his loving presence.

But she did remind me of something very important. We must always be conscious of what we send out into the world. Our words, our voices, our presence makes a difference in the world that ripples out to edge up against other people’s lives. Letting our anger spillover like frigid water bursting from the trap of winter’s ice is a chilling experience for everyone; those it is directed to, and those who stand on the periphery as unexpected recipients and innocent bystanders.

We have power to create harmony, or discord, with our words. To make a lasting and welcome difference in the world, choose harmony. It never fails to create a ripple of joy all around.

I am at Emerald Lake Lodge for a weekend getaway with my beloved.

And in the process I forgot to organize a guest blog for today!

While I love having a guest blog on Sundays and am always inspired by what others share, it is good sometimes to ‘shake it up’, just as it’s important to find value in all things.  The value in not having a guest blog, as well as the fact my laptop crashed which means I can’t access my files anyway, (I’m typing on my iPad) is that I get to sit in the sunshine on a comfy sofa in a quiet corner of the the main lodge and simply experience the day. It also means I can’t post photos until I get this issue with my laptop fixed.

The real difference though is that CC and I have taken time out to simply be, as BillWithers sings, “just the two of us”.

Making a difference begins for each of us when we take time to cherish and celebrate with those who make such a difference in our lives.

CC makes an enormous difference in my life. Getting away to a special mountain hideaway is a great way to honor and cherish the difference we make together and for each other.

And that’s important.

To celebrate those in our lives who make a difference.

To take time out from ‘the busy’ and just be, together, enjoying each others company and cherishing all we have and mean to each other.

Last night, beneath an azure sky deepening to dark we sat over a delicious dinner and looked into each others eyes and shared what a difference the past five years have made in both our lives.  Through the ups and downs, the ins and outs, the ‘we’re done here’s’ to the ‘let’s keep going on’s’, we have both grown and expanded and been made different.  Acknowledging ‘our maturation’ as CC calls it, taking time to thank the other for their teachings, and their gifts, to talk about where we’ve been, where we’re at, and where we want to go together makes a difference in how we feel, act and believe in each other and our togetherness.

If you can’t get away to be ‘just the two of us’ take a moment today to celebrate someone who makes a difference in your life. Tell them what they mean to you, let them know how their presence makes such a difference. Share your joy in having them in your life and let the moment of acknowledging make a difference in how you see into one another’s hearts.

Consciously choose to be in love, move in love, and live your love today.

May your difference be  in Love in everything you say, do and experience today.

Namaste.

I went to a drum circle last night. 100+ people gathered in a circle, beating on their drums, chanting in unison. 100+ people gathered together to use the rhythm of the drum as a means of creating community.

It was powerful and fun and enlivening and very very joyful.

Judy Atkinson, founder and guide at Circles of Rhythm, has been creating drum circles for over 15 years. Every Friday night, she brings in drums and music makers and shakers and invites anyone and everyone to come join her in the circle – ” To create expansive and improvised music, to awaken consciousness and to provide a Cosmic Musical Journey into the Unknown.” — as her website states.

And she does. Create joy and wonder and an opportunity for people, individually and collectively, to find their beat and pound it out, dance to it and smooth out the ridges of their day (and world). Judy inspires people to create harmony in their soul that ripples out into the world in a never-ending song of joy and celebration.

Judy Atkinson is a hero.

On Thursday night, I was one of four women gathered together to talk about Peace. Calgary’s Summer of Peace 2012 to be specific. Founded in the inspired thinking of Calgary-based life coach, Kerry Parsons, Summer of Peace is intended to create awareness, and synergy, within our hearts and minds and souls where we consciously choose to Act In Peace in all our circles. Summer of Peace is connected to a global movement ignited by Barbara Marx Hubbard and the Shift Network.

What a powerful circle — Judy Atkinson was part of the circle which is how I was inspired to drum on Friday night!  Kerry’s spirit is a bright beacon of hope for peace in our city — and our world. In her vision, we are a world at peace, given to peace, created by peace, driven to peace. In her dream which she is setting into motion, we are a world where each individual invests their life force in creating the one thing that will overpower war, and hatred, and famine and sorrow and a host of other human anxieties that disrupt our lives — PEACE.

Now is the time. Peace is the way. Kerry Parsons is a hero. 

(More on Summer of Peace 2012 coming up soon!)

I have been listening to some amazing music for the past two weeks. I can’t remember where I found the link — I am grateful to the person who connected me to it. (If it was you, please drop me a note so I can personally thank you!) Miracai Ceiba  is a duo consisting of guitarist/singer Markus Sieber and singer/harpist/keyboardist Angelika Baumbach. They come from different parts of the world. Markus is East German. Angelika was born in Tucson, Arizona, and grew up in a small village near Mexico City, the daughter of a Mexican mother and German father. They tour the world sharing their engaging new style of world devotional music blending Gurmukhi mantras from the Kundalini Yoga tradition with original songs in English and Spanish that reflect a Native American influence and also draw words of wisdom from Rumi, Thich Nhat Hanh, Guru Nanak and Yogi Bhajan.

They are amazing and listening to their music creates peace in my heart. Miracai Ceiba are heroes as are all those who use music to awaken our spirits to the call of Love, Joy, Harmony and Peace.

To inspire you on this rainy morning in Calgary, here is a video of Miracai Ceiba chanting the healing mantra — Sa Ta Na Ma

It was four months of hard work, focused energy and a deep commitment to making a difference and last night, Linda Hawke, president of the board of directors for This is My City, stood in front of an audience and graciously thanked those who supported the This is My City Festival that was held between January and May of this year to celebrate, Arts from the Margins.

And what an event it was.

You can check out the happenings on the This is My City website here.

When Beth Gignac and her amazing team at the City of Calgary Arts & Culture department conceived of This is My City 4 years ago, it was impossible to see just what would happen when artists and homeless agencies and those with the lived experience of homelessness came together to explore — what it means to co-create from every side of the street.

In that co-creation, miracles happened. Lives changed and dreams came true and continue to be lived in vibrant, life-giving colour.

One man with the lived experience of homelessness, had a book of his paintings published with a Calgary Poet. Reg’s Trees

Jordan from the DI gets ready to ‘tag’

Another man, who took part in the world premiere production of Two Bit Oper Eh Shun? as part of the original This is My City project, is on his way to New York to participate with the amazingly talented and deep-hearted Onalea Gilbertson in the remounting of the oratorio when it will be staged as part of the New York Musical Theatre Festival in July under the new name — Requiem for a Lost Girl.

And there are countless other stories of change and miracles unfolding, not just of those with the homeless experience, but for those who participated as artist mentors, volunteers and contributors to the events over the course of the first year pilot project managed and funded by the City of Calgary, Arts & Culture department, and now under the banner of the This is My City Art Society.

This is My City is making a big and important difference in our city, and in the lives of those who participate, contribute and come out to support this important initiative.

Last night I attended the Festival closing ceremonies and was in awe of how one idea has grown into such a wondrous, exciting and important initiative.

And, I am grateful. As This is My City grew into the wonder of its presence on our streets, in the shelters, our homes and hearts today, I was able to contribute and participate in its growth. And in my participation, I too was changed. I too experienced wonder, growth and miracles happening in my life.

This is My City makes a difference.

Thank you everyone who helped make the difference shine throughout the festival this year. You are the difference we make when we act together with commitment and love towards making the world a better place for everyone, no matter what side of the street they walk on.

As most people know who read this blog, I have a Golden Retriever, Ellie, whom I affectionately call, The Wonder Pooch!

Ellie has been my ballast, my guide, my companion, my healer since my youngest daughter and I picked her out of the litter when she was six weeks old. When she came home with us 3 weeks later, she was a bundle of squirmy, squiggly, oozy joy that could not get enough of being hugged and held and loved.

Not much has changed since that August day in 2001 when we brought Ellie home from the breeder — except perhaps that she’s gotten to big to hold in our laps! Oh. And the difference she makes in our lives keeps growing.

When I was going through the relationship from hell (check out the sidebar on Recover Your Joy for more info), Ellie was by my side. She endured what I endured. Some of it I sheltered her from as best I could — but I was pretty sick in those days and not in my right mind and didn’t do a great job of protecting the ones I love. Regardless of how poorly I did to protect her, however,  she always took care of me. She knew my fear, my terror, my sorrow, my angst. And she stuck by me.

Dogs do that. They stick by their owners. They protect us. Stand beside us. Guide us. Console us.

Dogs make a difference.

As I type this, Marley, the great cat, sits on the mousepad beside me, leaving just enough room for me to manipulate the mouse, one paw stretched out to touch my arm as I type, a loud purr emanating from somewhere deep within his body. Rescued from the humane society, Marley came into our home two and a half years ago to clear the mice out of the house. He did and he still does. And in between patrolling for mice, he graces us with his presence, demanding affection and food and commanding us to open the door whenever he wants out, or in. He is a cat and he rules. And we know it.

Recently, I met a woman who was coming out of an abusive relationship. “I’d get a dog,” she said tearfully, “but I’m terrified I couldn’t take care of it.”

Get a plant, I counselled.

Ellie Makes Me Smile

Get a plant and if it survives three months, get a fish. If the fish survives three months, then, and only then, consider a dog.

Sometimes, we have to teach ourselves that we have the power to sustain life, to nurture it, to cherish it, to worship it, by starting small.

Sometimes, starting small is the only way to know, we can make a difference. Sometimes, starting small is the only way we can teach ourselves, we have the power to make a difference.

If you are worried about ‘how will I make a difference’, or ‘does my difference even count’, start small.

Smile at a stranger. Pick up a piece of garbage on the sidewalk. Let another driver merge — and keep your heart gentle and your mind open while you do it.

Teach yourself, one act at a time, that you have the power and the capacity to make a difference. And eventually, your difference will be felt deep within you. and in your difference you will know — My difference counts because… I make a difference.

Ellie teaches me this everyday. In our relationship I know the difference we share is, Love. When I needed to heal, she was there. Today, no matter my mood, my feelings, my state of mind or being, she is always there, loving me into knowing, I make a difference.

I am walking along a downtown street on the curbside, when a man walking in the opposite direction, darts across the sidewalk and grabs my arm. “Well! Aren’t you just a breath of fresh air!” he exclaims giving me a big hug.

I laugh and hug him back.

“I miss you,” he says. “We all miss you.”

He is a client of the homeless shelter where I used to work. He’s not homeless any longer. He has his own apartment, is receiving government assistance as his mental health issues make working difficult. One of the counsellors at the shelter worked with him to ensure he received support. And he is grateful.

He’s also grateful for his apartment, his ‘abundance’ and his, what he calls, escape from shelter life.

As we chat, a van drives past us, the driver honks, a woman leans out the window and she yells hello!  I wave back, the man waves back and we laugh. We’re causing quite a scene standing on the street during rush hour. Except, the man and woman are also known to both of us. They too were once at the shelter.

“Jack” and I chat for a few minutes. He tells me about a friend of his who is still living at the shelter. I know the man. He is kind and caring, and lost. His mental health issues impede his ability to move out of the shelter. “I got my cheque the other day,” Jack tells me. “I’m so grateful for the raise the government just gave me, I decided to share my wealth. I gave him $50 and told him to consider it an early birthday gift.”

I smile.

Those who have little do that a lot. Share what they have with grace and open heartedness.

Jack and I talk some more until we agree, it may be the beginning of May but it sure feels like winter. Time to continue on to our destinations. I thank him for stopping to chat with me. He hugs me again and repeats. “I sure miss you!  Lost of people miss you!”

“I miss you too and everyone else,” I tell him before crossing the street. On the other side a man is waiting at the light to cross in the other direction. I know him from the shelter too. Except this man is the CEO of an organization that serves lunch or helps out with other tasks at the shelter.

We chat for a moment. “I’ve missed seeing you when I’ve been there,” he tells me, handing me his card. We promise to connect for a coffee and continue on with our day.

Chance encounters which left me smiling and feeling uplifted. Chance encounters that made a difference in my day.

It is so easy to make a difference on the street. Jack took the time to stop and acknowledge me. The couple passing by took the time to wave and smile. The man on the corner waited to say hello. And in their acts of grace, my life was enriched.

What can you do today to enrich the life of another with small significances that go a long way to making a difference in their day? What small act can you commit todayto add light and laughter and smiles and love to someone else’s life?