I have much to be grateful for....

I have decided that I need to write a gratitude journal. It will be a chronicle of all the people in my life and of all the random things in my daily existence of whom or of which I am eternally grateful. The symbol above is the symbol of gratitude. If you are the subject of this post, I offer it to you with an abiding and heartfelt thank you for gracing my life.

To my Country and my Fellow Citizens

I have been glued to the internet watching the chaos unfold in Egypt over the past week. And it reminded me of how very fortunate and grateful I am to be a Canadian and live in Canada. As we grumble about our cold winters, our politicians, our taxes, and our scandals, we fail to take in the positives of residing in a country that has much to offer. Sure, we can do a better job on poverty, health care, public transportation, and crime. Nevertheless, a Country, similar to any human being, is not perfect. We can strive to make changes but we have much to celebrate already.

1. I live in a Country that has a national average daily income of $172.53 CDN, not $2.00 US like Egypt does. Although I accept many people are below the poverty line in Canada, the majority of us would think nothing of buying a $2.00 cup of coffee at our favourite coffee shop and not worrying whether that “luxury” means our children will go hungry yet another day.

2. I live in a Country where the unemployment rate is between 7% and 8%, not 95% like Zimbabwe or 35% like Afghanistan. My Country has government programs and benefits, shelters, and foodbanks that allow us to maintain at least a minimum standard of living. I live in a Country where no-one dies of starvation because they couldn’t get a meal.

3. I live in a Country that values and promotes freedom of speech. I can’t fathom a world where the media is all state-run and messages are sanitized to fit the political will of an autocracy.

4. I live in a Country that values diversity and that does not sanction exclusion merely because you choose to associate with people outside of your race, your religion, or your sexual orientation.

5. I live in a Country where there is no-fault divorce. Should I happen to fall in love with a married man, he is not at risk of being stoned (that is killed by stones, not drugged – see we can’t easily grasp the concept) for eschewing his arranged marriage in favour of his voluntary love for me.

6. I live in a Country where disasters rarely strike and, when they do, the communities surrounding us band together to help us through. I can’t comprehend living in a country like Pakistan where they are allowing their flood victims to live ten to a tent, in mud, despite all of the foreign aid that has poured into the country.

7. I live in a Country where the Army is rarely called in to restore peace because the police are so vilified that the public don’t trust them. (Okay, the army is sometimes called in for snowstorms in Toronto by panic-stricken politicians!) G20 protests aside, in our Country people cry collectively for a police officer killed in the line of duty because we know he died protecting us.

8. I live in a Country that has free medical care. Not even the United States, our cousin to the south, can lay claim to that.

9. I live in a Country that is not hated by the rest of the world. I can attest to that from my travels; if you wear a Canadian flag you are greeted warmly. When I visited NATO, it was clear the Canadian personnel are acknowledged as the peacekeepers, not the aggressors.

10. I live in a Country where I don’t go to sleep at night wondering whether there can be a better life for my children and my grandchildren. I know that they will have many opportunities to do even better in their lives that I did in mine.

Every Saturday at the seniors’ residence, we end the show with the singing of O Canada. Residents struggle from their wheelchairs to stand for the song and for our Country. Those who physically can’t stand place a hand over their heart. With my fellow Canadians every Saturday I am reminded of how thankful I am to live in Canada – glorious, strong, and free.

With Gratitude,

Brenda

Silent Gratitude isn't much use to anyone

I have much to be grateful for....










I have decided that I need to write a gratitude journal. It will be a chronicle of all the people in my life and of all the random things in my daily existence of whom or of which I am eternally grateful. The symbol above is the symbol of gratitude. If you are the subject of this post, I offer it to you with an abiding and heartfelt thank you for gracing my life.

To my wonderful husband, Jim:

When I was young I know I dreamed of a Prince Charming that would be at my side to the end of my days; one who would set me up in a castle of dreams and surround me with love the colour of a rainbow. You were an unlikely prince charming. You came with baggage, debt, and a disease that almost ate away at our love for each other. And, yet, here we are so many years later. I feel like I have found the Rainbow I dreamed about so long ago.

There is absolutely no doubt that we have struggled with our love affair. There were many times when we grew apart. There were menacing moments when I left you to follow a different version of what my life could be like. You always stayed by my side. No matter how angry or disappointed you were that I was leaving the castle of dreams that you were building, you always welcomed me back. You gave me the freedom to figure out that the home I had always been looking for would be found within the circle of your arms.

I am most grateful that you allow me to follow my dreams and to write my own biography. You know how very much it means to me to be exactly who I want to be, even if that means giving up a big salary, or other meaningless trappings, in favour of pursuing unspent dreams.

You also understood that I want my life journey to be all about “she made a difference to me”, so that every reader of my epitaph might reflect and remember a time when I said or did the very thing that made a difference in their life. Though it frustrated you at times that I offered too much in generosity to others, you gave me space to travel the path that I set out for myself. Even though you chastised me for my giving too much, you found so many other ways to tell me you were proud that I am who I am.

I am honoured to love someone who has faced their own demons, who has conquered an unbelievable insidious and terrifying dis-ease. I marvel at how you deliver your personal message of hope to others who are trying to overcome their demons.

I watch how you make a difference to each and every person you encounter. I secretly smile inside as I witness the many smiles that you leave in your path through life. The day is always brighter for people who have the fortune of your attention.

I am unbelievably thankful to have you as the father of our three children. I know that you are a living example to them; a testament to the belief that one can overcome the worst of obstacles and can be a better person who rises from the ashes of life. I am witness to the love that you have for them. I wish they only knew how very fortunate to have been borne your child.

I am grateful to be your partner in life. Thank you for the castle that you have built, that you have fortified, and that you have preserved for me brick by loving brick. Thank you for making my childhood dreams a reality.

I love you more today than yesterday. But I will love you more tomorrow. I will always love you.

With Gratitude,

Brenda

Life as a Game

I have often wondered if I would have made different choices had I known what I know now and could live my life over again. The most poignant question would involve the decisions that I have made as a mother. Being a mother is the most important, the most affirming, and yet the most daunting "job" that I have ever had.

I was reading a book this week by Jodi Picoult called Handle With Care. A mother is having to decide whether to launch a lawsuit for wrongful death. Her little girl, perhaps because of the negligence of the pediatrician, has a rare bone disease that renders her bones as brittle as fallen autumn leaves under your feet. Quite conceivably, the pediatrician should have identified the problem in vitro and other choices might have been made. The first problem is not the lawsuit; the problem is that the pediatrician is the mother's best and dearest friend. The worst problem is that the mother has to call her own beloved daughter's death "wrongful".

The following quote from the book shook me hard. The lawyer who is handling the case (who had been adopted and was pining to know more about her birth mother) is pondering on the cost of decisions that a mother has to make.

I figured there was one seminal moment when a woman realized what it meant to be a mother. For my birth mom, maybe it was when she passed me to a nurse and said good-bye. For the mother who’d raised me, it was when she sat me down at the kitchen table and told me that I had been adopted. For your mother, it was making the decision to file this lawsuit in spite of the public and private backlash. Being a good mother, it seemed to me, meant you ran the risk of losing your child.

I have done things, even as late as this year, where I ran the risk of losing a "child" (the child is now an adult but is nevertheless my child). I hope the risk has been a loving one because it came from my best judgment and my most fervent hopes. Things have worked out well; the risk was worth the rewards. The rewards are not designed for me, but for those for whom I took the risk.

I bought myself an IPad this year. As part of my downtime, I play Solitaire. This particular version will warn you after a chosen move that the game is "not winnable". I love that. I'm thinking that it would be great if we knew that, just after we made an unwise move, the game of life was not winnable. Solitaire also allows you to undo your latest move -- that is, the one that made the game unwinnable -- and try a different technique. How amazing would that be! The game of life is at this point not winnable, but you can undo something you did and try again to reach the mantle of success. It would be like the "control, alt, delete" combination on your computer. You can reset life so you can try again.

We can't do that. Life is definitely not a game. As Charlie Brown said "In the book of life, the answers are not in the back".

Maybe the lesson learned in all of this is that there is no "undo" magic about being a mother. You make the choices that you feel are best and then you try to live with the consequences. You hold tight, all the while trying to figure out how to let go. Yet, hpw do you let go so that they, the children of your best hopes, land safety?

I hope, for my children, that everytime they fall they do so on a pillow of my love for them. After all, being able to say that you were were loved with a mother's devotion might be one of the only answers at the conclusion of the game of life.