A song for Debbie Mellor

Sing it with me:

Edelweiss, edelweiss,

every morning you greet me.

Small and white, clean and bright,

you look happy to meet me.

Blossom of snow, may you bloom and grow,

bloom and grow forever.

Eidelweiss, edelweiss,

bless my homeland forever.

It was Debbie's favourite song, and she sang it often. Whenever I took my guitar to Discovery Day Program at L'Arche, she requested it, and sang it, or at least its opening bars, at the top of her lungs. She loved The Sound of Music, Rogers and Hamerstein's musical/movie that brought the song to the world's attention, with a passion beyond passion! And though the consonants were missing from its songs when she sang them, it was hard to mistake what she was singing, because she could definitely carry a tune.

A week ago today, we lost Debbie -- whose pseudonym in these pages up until now has been Sandy -- to protect her privacy -- simply because Simple Moodlings is in the public domain. People like Debbie aren't often given much attention, so this is my humble attempt to pay tribute to a beautiful friend and human being. Readers who follow these moodlings know my tributes are also my way to process the loss of people I love.

I can't begin to tell you the story of Debbie's life; I'll just tell you how I know and love her. Debbie has been in my awareness for most of my life because the L'Arche community came to our church as I grew up. In fact, Debbie once came and helped me lead the singing of the closing hymn when I was doing music at mass, a special memory that still makes me smile. 

It's only in the past 12 years or so that our friendship solidified as I became a regular in the L'Arche offices through my role as admin assistant and volunteer. In that time, Debbie and I took many walks down the hallways, often holding hands because she was visually impaired and sometimes unsteady on her feet. We would sing as we went, or comment on the pictures in the hallways. Sometimes we would work -- Debbie would help me with shredding, or push the button on the photocopier as needed. She loved the photocopier. If we ran out of things to do, she liked to take scrap paper and print her name and the names of her family members over and over, pretending to be an executive at work. 

Her love for her family was constant, and in our morning prayer circle she would inevitably begin her prayers by saying "I pray my mom-MIE, my dad-DIE, my bro-THER..." When her father, and some years later, her mother, passed away, the wind went out of her sails, and though she carried on, her sadness was always evident during every prayer circle.

When I became The Baking Lady at Day Program, Debbie was in there like a dirty shirt. Not that she was ever unkempt -- her clothes and matching purses are legendary in the community, and she loved it whenever anyone commented on her attire or her fancy nail polish. When it came to baking, she loved to help measure ingredients or run the hand mixer, and especially, to eat what we made, sometimes before it was ready. I would often catch her snitching bits of cookie dough as we formed the cookies!

Debbie was part of the L'Arche Edmonton community for almost 43 years. Because I was given the opportunity to work on the History of L'Arche Edmonton, I was able to interview people from Debbie's past. My favourite stories about her demonstrate her tenacity and determination -- as one friend put it, she was an "empowered woman." She grew up in a loving farm family, and when her siblings left home to marry or go to university, Debbie decided it was her turn to leave, too, so she packed a suitcase and set it at the front door, as if to say, "My turn to go." 

Debbie's mom unpacked and put everything away, only to find the repacked suitcase at the door again a short time later. Debbie meant business, and her parents eventually decided that the L'Arche community's model of homes -- where people with and without disabilities create a family-like setting for its core members -- was the right place for their daughter to live as independently as she could.

My other favourite story from the past is about Debbie's trip to Japan in 1982. Everyone from the L'Arche community who went as part of an exchange between two communities of people with disabilities had to abide by the suitcase rule: each person could pack what they liked, but they had to be able to carry their own suitcase to the far end of their block and back without help, a very practical standard that stood the group in good stead. The group was very tired by the time they reached their destination, and unfortunately, there was a long flight of stairs to reach the main level of the Sapporo airport. Seeing the steps, Debbie put her suitcase down and gave it a good kick before she picked it up and kept moving!

Debbie’s enthusiasm for life, her constancy, and her unconditional (and sometimes conditional, when she was feeling stubborn) love moved me more than I realized until, suddenly, we have lost her too soon. Not to covid... that loving heart of hers gave out unexpectedly. I'm not sure when covid will let up and allow me to go back to visit my friends at Day Program, but I know the first return visit will be missing something important without Debbie there to welcome me with "Hi, Reea!" There's comfort in knowing how happy she is to be with her parents again in the Great Beyond, but the Day Program community is missing her terribly. Thomas* will especially miss her, I'm sure.

Debbie, my friend, given your love of music, I hope that you're singing and dancing to your heart's content with the L'Arche communion of saints and your parents. I look forward to the day we meet again, but until then, climb ev'ry mountain, my friend, and don't forget -- I love you, too. So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodnight...

A moodling revisited... Patience and Love

This week, I am thinking of and praying for a dear friend who was admitted to ICU this week because of a heart attack. This little story about her was written nearly ten years ago, but what I have learned in my relationship with Sandy (not her real name) is timeless. She is a wonderful and valued member of our L'Arche Edmonton community, and I post this in her honour, and in the hopes that her health will continue to improve. Please, my friends, pray with me for her.

* * * * * * *

While I was working at the L'Arche offices this morning, Sandy, one of our members with a disability, came into my office. Sometimes she comes in while I'm in the middle of something important and starts fiddling with the books on the shelf or the boxes of brochures. She likes to help, so when I don't have shredding for her to do, she often "makes" her own work. Unfortunately, she doesn't know the kind of assistance that's helpful. Today, by the time I freed my brain from the document I was typing, Sandy had a handful of fundraising envelopes that she was spreading across a table. "How you?" she asked, when she realized that I was watching her. 

It's easy to get impatient when work is interrupted, but at L'Arche we do our best to see the interruptions as part of the job. "I'm fine," I said, as I got up from my desk, gently took the envelopes from Sandy and put them back on the shelf where she had found them. Instead of shooing Sandy back downstairs as I often do, I took her hand and said, "Would you like to help me go find something in the community room?"

" 'Kay," she said. As we walked down the stairs holding hands, she counted the steps from one to nine, and echoed me as I counted the remainder. At the bottom, we reached the door of the Day Program where Sandy and the other core members engage in all sorts of activities. The sounds of drumming and singing emanated from the room, and Sandy suddenly remembered where she was supposed to be. "Bye," she said, and left me standing in the hallway. She loves music; I had to finish my errand alone.

About an hour later, I was engrossed in my work on the computer screen again, and didn't really notice Sandy slip into my office until she put an arm around me, kissed me on the top of the head, and said in her soft, squeaky voice, "I love you, Reea."

"I love you, too," I said, as she disappeared again. I guess patience with Sandy's little interruptions reaps rewards. She never told me she loved me until today.

Come and join us!!

Here's a very quick moodling... to invite all my readers in the Edmonton area to join me in a whole lot of fun at the L'Arche Backyard Party. Hanging out with L'Arche is a guaranteed good time, and this year, a wonderful way to mark Summer Solstice. Details below. Hope to see you there!

Special Invitation

Join us for the BEST. CHRISTMAS. PAGEANT. EVER.

(I'm not kidding. The Annual L'Arche Christmas Pageant is a favourite among those who have attended it in the past. One of my friends says it's where the spirit of Christmas begins for her, and I have to agree. No one leaves without a smile.)

Come, and bring friends to share in the joy!

"I think I've changed my mind!"

My life with the L'Arche Community is shifting. Instead of spending most of my time on administrative tasks, I'm working with the core members more, much to my delight. They always make me smile.

Yesterday afternoon was no exception. It was cookie time. The gang and I made 'Oatmeal Cookies with a Purpose' from my old copy of the Mennonite More with Less cookbook. It's a recipe for a soft, easy to work with cookie dough that my Day Program friends with and without disabilities could easily shape as they pleased and decorate. Most opted to press m&ms into their cookies before baking, but a few cookies were baked un-decorated, so we iced them and put on sprinkles, as you can see in the picture.

The best moment of the afternoon was when when everyone, core members and staff alike, were joking around and happily nibbling warm fresh cookies. But my favourite anecdote occurred earlier, as I was helping to put aprons on each core member, asking if they were willing to help shape the cookies. Some I didn't even have to ask -- they were "all in" from the moment I started putting ingredients into the mixing bowl. But Lark* and Mariette* said no. They're older ladies and they usually prefer to sit and watch everyone else do things.

Not wanting to leave them out, I turned to Lark and said, "Are you sure you don't want to make cookies? If you don't make some, what will you do when the rest of us are enjoying our treats?"

An assistant piped up, "If you don't make cookies, you don't eat cookies."

I could tell that the wheels were turning as I watched Lark's expression change with the idea of no cookies. "No one else is going to make them for you," I said.

Lark paused a moment, then grinned and announced in her high, reedy voice, "I think I've changed my mind!" Mariette begrudgingly agreed with Lark, and as soon as I gave them their cookie dough, they both got right into it!

Everyone enjoyed their cookies when they were ready, and Mariette even hung in with me until the last cookie was iced and sprinkled, insisting that I deliver the pink-sugared one to her favourite staff member friend, who works in an office down the hall. Vinh, don't forget to thank her!

It was a delightful afternoon, and it was fun to see everyone in a happy mood, enjoying their cookies together. I much prefer baking with Day Program to working at a computer!

* I use pseudonyms for my L'Arche friends.

An emotional wringer of a week

This week was tough and emotionally wearing. Yesterday our L'Arche community said goodbye to our dear friend, Anthony*, and on our way home from that funeral, we learned that another dear friend had just died. It would be too much to handle if we weren't Easter People who believe in the resurrection.

Today we held a first farewell gathering for our second friend, Tim. Plenty of tears and laughter, and lots of funny stories, one of which I had completely forgotten from back in November of 2010. I'm remoodling it below, because it's such a good one.

* * * * * * *

It didn’t take long for the members of Little Flower house to get tired of doing dishes by hand when the old dishwasher broke down on the weekend. Tim, honourary home maintenance guy and core member, drew a picture of a new dishwasher, showed it to everyone in the house, and they all signed their names to what became a rather effective make-shift petition.

Tim brought his petition to the General Body Meeting on Monday night, and showed it to the entire L’Arche Edmonton community, finally giving it to the community leader, Sister Pat. She showed it to the Board Chairperson, Wendy, who surprised everyone (including herself, we suspect) by announcing that she would take the petition to a few appliance stores the next afternoon, and see if perhaps she could convince one of them to donate a brand new dishwasher.

On Tuesday morning, Wendy told her curling team the story of Little Flower’s dishwasher petition, and showed it to her friends at the rink, explaining her intended errand that afternoon. She was surprised again when one of her teammates wrote her a cheque for a new dishwasher, asking only that a charity receipt be issued to her husband’s business. 

Tim’s efforts got results faster than any other known petition!

* * * * * * *

God bless you, Tim. We miss you already.

*I usually use pseudonyms for my L'Arche friends. Tim is an exception to the rule.

Praying with Anthony

My heart is sad today. During my volunteer time at L'Arche Day Program this morning, I learned that my friend Anthony* is dying of cancer.

Although he hasn't been to Day Program since before Christmas, Anthony has been part of it for about three years now, and his presence touched me deeply. He always had a smile for me when I greeted him. He loved to walk to the garden and help pick things in the fall. When we had coffee together in the mornings, sometimes we would play a game or roll a crayon back and forth between us. Our friendship was simple.

But what I will always remember about Anthony is the way he prays. During our community prayer time, when everyone was invited to pray their personal prayers, Anthony's mumbled prayer was very fervent and sincere:

"Bless my mom and my dad" (and numerous other people whose names were hard to make out). "Read my bible, God's word. Light a candle, God's light. I pray for L'Arche, and Day Program, and Barb (his favourite assistant) and..." (more people from Day Program, I think, but he prayed so softly it was often hard to hear and understand him).

And it seemed the longer Anthony was with us, the longer his prayers got. He was really, really talking to God, and asking for blessings, over and over and over again. We hated to cut him off, but he probably would have prayed the entire morning away, eyes closed and hands folded, in spite of others in the group getting quite antsy.

Anthony's relationship with God was clearly a very special part of his life. And I'm sure his reunion with God will be a real celebration, though we will miss him here.

God bless you, Anthony, and find you the best garden room in heaven!

* I use pseudonyms for my L'Arche friends.

L'Arche time

I haven't said much about L'Arche for quite some time, but I'm still happily spending small chunks of my life with the community.

On the weekend, we had our annual Solidarity Bowl-a-thon to raise funds for our sister L'Arche communities in the developing world. It's a great cause and it's always a lot of fun. Lizzy and Cassandra were both delighted to beat my score!

On Monday morning I hung out with my friends at Day Program as I often do, having coffee, socializing, enjoying our little prayer time, and participating in the scheduled activities. Mondays are a good day for having one-on-one time with core members, watering plants with Lucy*, dancing with Leanne, coloring with Anthony, or setting puzzles with Cassandra.

But my L'Arche time on Monday afternoon was extra special. The entire community was called together for a meeting, with the assistants (persons without disabilities) in one room and our 22 core members (persons with disabilities) across the hall. Carmel, a long-time community member, three seminarians who have been staying in three of our homes for their practicum in the month of January, and myself enjoyed a rare opportunity to be with our core member friends without the assistants (who have an energy all their own). Though we didn't really have much of a plan for the afternoon, one soon evolved.

We started by singing different core members' favourite songs. Lark loves Home on the Range, and Joe led us in a rousing version of It's a Long Way to Tipperary, while Keith was hoping we'd sing Taking Care of Business (I'm afraid we didn't manage that one). I can't begin to remember all the songs we sang and drummed and shook shakers to. It turned out that Jonathan, one of the seminarians, knew a slew of camp songs with some hilarious actions!

When our voices needed a break, we all made and signed a get-well card for a community member who just had surgery and a birthday card for one of the assistants. We talked about life in community and named each core member along a community timeline -- who came to L'Arche Edmonton at the very beginning, and who came most recently. We had a wonderful conversation about the ups and downs of living in community, and we closed our time together with prayer. When the assistants' meeting finally ended, we all enjoyed a chicken supper together.

I can't help but feel that we were on holy ground for those few hours that we were together yesterday. It's rare to have just the core members meet together like that, and while there were a few shorter tempers and some moments when we wondered how we'd keep a hungry group happy, for the most part, they led the gentle pace of the afternoon just by their interactions.

Talking, singing and telling stories with our core members, and being part of their sharing only underlined the goodness of L'Arche. They truly are the heart of our community, our teachers, and our society could take many lessons from them about what's really important -- friendship, humility, and generosity of spirit. They carry a gentleness and wisdom from which the world needs to learn!

*I use pseudonyms for the names of my L'Arche friends.

Loving, working

These days I'm back to work pretty full-time with the L'Arche Edmonton community, helping with our triennial accreditation process. I'm happy to be working -- I can't think of a better place to work. The policy-related typing and organizing I'm doing isn't exactly exciting and gives me eyestrain by the end of the day, but my colleagues are a lot of fun, and laughter drifts down the hallway from every direction. I love the place, and the people.

Plus, I have Thomas to keep me company -- my friend who makes it his business to know the location of everyone in the building, or alternately, where the people who are missing might be. If Thomas doesn't know where someone is, he sometimes makes something up that seems plausible to him, and sticks with his story until that someone shows up.

Thomas' dedication to his friends within and often beyond our Community Centre is one of the things about him that I really love. He's happiest, of course, when everyone he loves is present, and he gets a bit worried when people are sick or away for too long. Sometimes we have to phone people who are missing but in action elsewhere just to keep Thomas from getting too agitated. But these days, with his friends mostly present and accounted for, he's happy to just sit and drink his coffee at the table near my desk, and tell everyone when people are coming in or going out for the day.

Thomas can't quite figure out why I keep showing up every morning because he's used to me being very part-time. Today he asked, "You here tomorrow?"

"Yes, Thomas," I replied with a smile. It's nice to hang out with someone who loves everyone so much that he wants to know the timing of where they'll be morning, afternoon... and even tomorrow.

Harry's miracle

Harry* has had a difficult but amazing time of it lately.  As a member with a disability in our L'Arche community, he's always been one of my favourites because he has quite a cheerful outlook on life, and loves to visit with admin team members in our offices at the community centre. I have his art on my wall at work. Harry used to say, "Hi, my boy!" and call me by name, or by what I know to be my name, Mre, before launching into a charmingly garbled story, interspersed with chuckles and grins, leading to a punchline that I didn't understand, but that made him laugh -- which made me laugh.

But well over a year ago, the people who lived with Harry began to notice changes in his personality, and it wasn't long before those changes became evident at the community centre, too. Harry and Thomas were friends who had a habit of greeting the admin team in the mornings, but soon it was only Thomas who came to our office, sometimes in tears because Harry had hit him. Harry became unsteady on his feet, and shouted with no warning, at times when we couldn't guess what might be bothering him. He stopped making any kind of sense, and forgot our names, which probably added to his frustration, and hence, his screaming. It was as though the Harry we all knew and loved had been replaced by a stranger, and though his medications were changed and many different tactics were tried, nothing could bring the old Harry back. The word dementia was spoken, though the experts who used it weren't sure what it actually looked like for someone like him.

At Day Program, a few staff members were physically hurt by Harry's outbursts, and the man on team, who credits Harry's friendship for bringing him to L'Arche in the first place, became Harry's main helper. Harry's friends with disabilities learned to keep an arm's length away from him at all times, a sad thing because he had often been seen walking hand in hand with them down the hallways in better times. His yelling carried through the building, and one of us would inevitably comment, "Poor Harry."

Likewise, life in his house became pretty unbearable -- his family members, both with and without disabilities, were unsure of him, and there was little anyone could do to ease whatever was bothering him. Medications were changed, and changed again to no effect. Everyone in the home was on edge. Finally, Harry was sent to an assessment facility so that a psych team could try to determine the best way to help him. His house family and many friends from the community scheduled visits with him during the month he was to be away.

Unfortunately, the facility was placed under flu quarantine shortly after Harry arrived, so no one was allowed to see him for many days. Without visitors from home, he became withdrawn and miserable, and from all reports, was getting worse instead of better. Before his month-long assessment time was up, the community decided that it was necessary to bring him home.

He was welcomed like a long-lost brother, and was clearly happy to be back among familiar faces, but his joy didn't translate to his behaviour for quite some time. The people in his home continued to love him as patiently as they were able, and as time went on and effective treatments were implemented and relationships rebuilt, he slowly began to show signs of being the Harry that everyone knew before. The love of his community slowly brought him back. One of the assistants who lives with him. Daniel, told me at a recent community gathering that Harry's slow recovery had been one of the most moving experiences in his life in L'Arche.

Being a rather irregular face at the community centre, and somewhat out of the community loop due to working at home, I never expected that my friendship with Harry would ever return to what it was two years ago. After all, I'm not exactly a fixture in Harry's life. But...

Last week a neighbourhood party was held at the community centre, involving a barbecue with a band, a bouncy castle, face painting, games, and fun for all. I was wandering among those seated at the dining tables when Harry stopped me and said, "Hi, Mre, how are you, my boy?"

It was so unexpected that it didn't compute. "Fine, Harry," I said, and then his words sank in. "Harry? What did you call me?" I asked.

"Mre." He said it like a shrug. Then he told me in his garbled Harry-language that he was hungry, and his housemate showed up with a burger for him.

"He remembers my name," I said. "He hasn't called me Mre in well over a year." Harry's friend, the one who has been so touched by Harry's recovery, grinned and said, "Did you know that he went to church on Sunday? The first time in ages! Wonderful, isn't it?"

Miraculous, I would say. We're all enjoying the return of our friend!

*I use pseudonyms for the names of my L'Arche friends.

5 years already!

Last week was my fifth anniversary at L'Arche Edmonton. I started October 29, 2009, working on a piecemeal basis to help my friend, Pat, who happens to be our community leader. Since then, I've done all sorts of things including answering phones, babysitting, delivering mail, filing, gathering information for board meetings, hanging art, writing stories/history, ordering take out, providing a guest room for an assistant, singing, washing dishes, watering plants... and the list goes on. It's been a lot of fun because it's so varied.

But the best thing about my job, hands down, are the other friends I've made in the past five years, those with and without disabilities. I haven't been to the office much in the last two months because I'm working on the history in peace and quiet at home with Shadow cuddled up next to me. So you could say I've been missing my L'Arche friends more than usual.

So when I went to the Community Centre for Prayer Night on Monday, it was like being welcomed home. All sorts of people came to say hello and give me a hug. Core member friends who didn't notice when I entered the room (because of the initial hubbub of a community gathering) suddenly saw me during the prayer. Their faces lit up, and they waved, though it was a solemn moment as we were remembering the 20+ people in our community who have joined the Communion of Saints.

When the prayer ended, community anniversaries were announced. My friend, Honey, gave me a hug and a rose. Being in the prayer circle with all my friends reminded me how blessed I am to work at L'Arche. It is much more than a 'job' because I am surrounded by God's best gifts -- special, wonderful, warm and loving people! The communion of saints here on earth.

Who are the communion of saints on earth who surround you?

Too many farewells

We're having a hard week at L'Arche Edmonton. Today, the mother of one of our board members will be buried. We are also in solidarity with L'Arche Calgary, as the community mourns the tragic death of their independent living coordinator, and the injuries of their operations manager and other family members in a weekend car crash. And tomorrow, we say farewell to our beloved friend, Joyce, who died peacefully last week. (In some of my past moodlings, her pseudonym was Jane.)

Joyce had been unwell for some time, though physicians couldn't name the exact ailment, and the community chose not to increase her anxiety or pain though more invasive medical procedures. She was well cared for at home for as long as possible, but because her medical needs became more than the community could handle, she was preparing to move into long-term care when she had a stroke.

Joyce, who was a cheerful and welcoming presence for people who came to L'Arche during her 37 years in the community, left us all with many warm recollections and humourous stories. As part of the community's farewell, about 40 people crammed into the living room of Joyce's home last Thursday afternoon to share some of the memories that are her lasting gifts to us. We sang My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean because Joyce always enjoyed that song. We remembered a little lady who liked to look nice, wearing a necklace to finish her ensemble more often than not. We talked about her surprising (and sometimes slightly wicked) sense of humour, her love of sugar cubes, stuffed animals, and babies, and how many people had the opportunity to hold her hands in her last hours. We remembered her pain that was so evident in the last months, but also the times when she was content to just rest in her favourite chair wearing a small smile. She had a knack for giving people nicknames that only she used, and her infectious grin -- with the mischievous twinkle in her eye -- blessed us all.

When word got out that Joyce wouldn't be with us much longer, her hospital room filled with family and friends from the L'Arche community until people overflowed into the corridor, sharing stories and singing, making hospital visitors and staff wonder who the important person in room 23 was. After she died, her doctor told those present how much she had been touched by knowing Joyce and caring for her for only four weeks, with the tears and sadness that we all feel at her loss. Joyce's simplicity and humility touched so many -- more than we will ever know -- and I suspect that she is looking out for her L'Arche family with extra care now.

Joyce joined L'Arche's Day Program while still living at home with her mom, catching rides to the workshop with those who lived in L'Arche homes in Sherwood Park. In 1977, she joined the community, living in Little Flower home for many years, welcoming many assistants and other friends. My little girls and I were among those friends when we had tea at Little Flower some years ago. Joyce met us at the door (as she had met so many others) and kept my little ones supplied with cookies and juice while I visited with my girlfriend, who was house leader at the time. Joyce had quite the knack with little ones, and I learned later that she had worked at a daycare for quite some time.

The love expressed and tears shed at our farewell gathering last week and at the funeral tomorrow are a clear indication of how much she was loved and will be missed. I think especially of those in her home who loved her in her pain and took such good care of her in the last few years. I fully expect that when they arrive at Heaven's Gate, Joyce will be there to meet and thank them, and when other members of her L'Arche family are heaven-bound, as is the case this week, Joyce will be there to let them in.

May she and our other deceased community members and friends rest in peace.

Art from the Unknown, 2013 edition

It's that time of year once again -- MLA Rachel Notley is hosting Art from the Unknown this weekend, and my friends from the L'Arche Edmonton Day Program have been busily preparing paintings and other art, jewelry and cards to show and share with the public. There are many other artists who will be present, too, so if you're looking for a gift for a friend, you might just find one. The event starts this evening with a reception including refreshments and live music, and runs until Sunday afternoon. Art lovers who like to support emerging artists will find it an event worth attending -- there's some pretty amazing work displayed every year. Maybe I'll see you there!

Art from the Unknown will be hosted at the Old Strathcona Centre for the Performing Arts / Cosmopolitan Music Society, located at 8426 Gateway Boulevard. The event will run during the following times:

October 18, 2013 – 6:00 PM – 10:00 PM - Opening Night Reception with Live Music

October 19, 2013 – 9:00 AM – 6:00 PM - General Gallery

October 20, 2013 – 11:00 AM – 3:00 PM - General Gallery

The L'Arche AGM has me thinking...

For the past six months or so, my visits to my workplace have been rare, because I'm in the so-called enviable position of working from home. Trying to write the 40-year history of our L'Arche community requires a lot of concentration, and sharing the office at the Community Centre with two others and friends from the Day Program (Thomas, Sandy, Harry, Glen* and others) who stop by to chat, while enjoyable, isn't exactly conducive to the kind of word wrestling I've been doing of late. To put it plainly, I write better at home, without interruptions.

But the last couple of weeks, I've enjoyed going to work more frequently because of preparations for yesterday's Annual General Meeting. There were stakeholder packages to prepare and mail out, new documents to be copied for the Board members' binders, files to be organized, and the Day Program to be commissioned to make special, coloured and laminated voting cards for all our voting members to wave during our voting procedures. Besides accomplishing these things, I made one special trip on Tuesday to bring Shadow, our puppy, to meet my Day Program friends, at which time he was immediately scooped up and loved by Leanne. At last night's meeting she asked me, "How's your doggie?"

Yesterday was a busier than average day for me (for which I'm paying with dizziness today), but it reminded me why I love L'Arche so much. From a conversation with a colleague who was hoping I'd apply for an internally posted position, to an unexpected hug from Leanne, to a fond farewell to two Board members who have been amazing, to a powerpoint that was deeply touching and had our community leader sniffling as she tried to go on with other community presentations, it was a lovely day.

There were three moments/events in particular that really touched me. The first was the presentation by Shalom house about how they like to pray. They have been faithful participants in the "A Taste of Taizé Prayer" nights that I've been organizing for the past few years... and last night, they held their own version of Taizé Prayer, encouraging everyone at the AGM to sing and pray along with them to this video of Ubi Caritas:

I'll admit that a tear trickled down my cheek. I had been musing about moving our Taizé  Prayer to other parts of the city, but seeing how much Shalom House (and others in L'Arche) appreciate being able to attend, I'm rethinking that idea. Somehow, we'll have to continue in the southeast, perhaps in different churches, so Shalom can continue to join us.

The second special moment was when one of our non-verbal core members was invited to present a farewell gift to one of the board members whom he has known for many years, and included a heartfelt hug. Frank might not be able to speak, but the message in that embrace was clear to everyone present, and I'm sure it was how we were all feeling towards Norm and Dan, plus a little extra on Frank's part. Norm is his buddy...

The final moment was a simple gesture by Bill, the founding member of our community. When he saw me come into the room for refreshments after the meeting, he patted the seat beside him to say, "Come sit here," in his warm and welcoming way. So I sat and chatted with him for a few minutes. Bill is the core member who most reminds me of my uncle Louis, and I was happy just to sit quietly with him when our conversation ran out.

All of these moments have me thinking about all the good things at work that I miss while working in solitude. I'm more efficient here, but is it really that enviable to work from home? I'm thinking, not always.

* I use pseudonyms online for all my L'Arche friends.

“My son who was dead is alive...”

Here's a true Easter story, a resurrection (of sorts) that I learned of while working on the history of our L'Arche Edmonton community... or perhaps it's more the story of The Prodigal, with a most unlikely wayward son...

Gerard was the youngest son born to a monolingual family in a rural Francophone area north of Edmonton in the mid-to-late 1920s. He had Down Syndrome and never learned to talk. His feet were misshapen and gave him trouble all his life, so he wasn't very good at walking either. But he had the world's best smile, and he was loved by his family.

When Gerard reached the age of 14, they took him for a long drive to Michener Centre in Red Deer, where he could be with other people like him, as was recommended in those days. After that, Gerard’s oldest brother watched out for him, and organized family excursions to visit Gerard twice a year. During the Depression, they borrowed a car from their neighbours because they didn't have one, and they made the trip over a weekend.

Gerard continued to receive visits from his family at regular intervals, until Gerard’s two oldest brothers went to war. They fought in the same company, and when the eldest was injured, and dying of wounds he received, he made his younger brother promise to continue caring for Gerard. Unfortunately, family excursions to see Gerard didn't happen for quite some time after the war, because the younger brother was a broken man when he returned from overseas.

It was while he was still recovering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that Michener Centre's administrator decided it would be a good idea to determine what to do with the personal effects and estates of its clients should they pass away unexpectedly. An official-looking letter in this regard was sent to Gerard's mother... who mistook it for a death notice. In those days, death was a private thing, and with the second son still incapable of sorting things out, the language barrier, and the family’s understanding that Gerard was dead and likely already buried in what was probably an unmarked grave, what could they do but grieve and carry on?

Meanwhile, life at Michener Centre wasn't anything like life at home for Gerard. When he tried to bite one of the nurses, his teeth were pulled – hard to imagine now, but that was standard procedure in many institutions for people with disabilities in those days. Gerard soon spent all his time in a wheelchair because the staff found that he walked too slowly. He became something of a night owl, which was his way of adapting to the fact that staff members were too busy during the day to spend any time with non-verbal people who didn’t call attention to themselves.

The few staff who may have wondered why Gerard's family stopped visiting moved on to other workplaces. Since he couldn't tell newer staff members that he had a mother, brothers and sisters, or where they lived, it was eventually assumed that he had no family at all. Records of family contact were somehow lost as well.

In the late 1970s, after the Shalom Community (L'Arche Edmonton) was fairly well-established, someone from the community visited Michener Centre to see if any long-term residents with no family might like to come and live in a L’Arche family. Something about Gerard caught the visitor’s attention, perhaps the funny little ‘thumbs-up’ signal he gave, the twinkle in his eye, or his dazzling but toothless smile that lit the entire room. At any rate, an invitation was made to Gerard, and the Michener staff followed through and brought him to Edmonton, though they couldn't imagine why anyone would want him to come and live with them.

Gerard loved car rides. He enjoyed the drive, and surprised the Michener staff member when he patted a dog that lived at the L’Arche home he visited. It had never occurred to staff at Michener that he would even knew what a dog was! After all, as far as they knew, he had lived his whole life in the Centre.

Gerard seemed to like visiting Shalom, and the people at L'Arche liked him. After a couple of visits, it was agreed that he would join the community. He arrived with no records other than his name, and his garbage bag of possessions included a pair of slippers, three ancient pairs of pin-striped overalls, and no outerwear of any kind -- in short, no clothing that could be considered presentable, because Michener staff didn’t expect that he would be going out -- simply because people like Gerard didn’t have anywhere to go. He hadn't been out in public since he left home.

To say that Gerard blossomed in L'Arche wouldn't be an exaggeration. Though he never did learn to talk, and he moved only at Gerard-speed, he began to walk again, went on outings and vacations, and enjoyed his interactions with other community members and friends. A woman who volunteered with the community loved to have tea with Gerard every week because, as she explained to the community leader, “His heart is an ocean of peace.” Just being in his quiet presence was an immense gift to her.

Gerard's sense of humour also began to shine. The first time it snowed after he arrived in the community, he refused to wear his boots. Instead, he took them to his bedroom. His house leader fetched the boots and explained to Gerard that he couldn't attend his sheltered workshop unless he wore his boots. He then hid them under his bed. The house leader found the boots again, explained the situation once more, and the phone rang. While she took the call, Gerard hid his boots in a more difficult hiding place. Eventually the house leader found the boots and explained that without his boots, Gerard’s feet would freeze. No matter – he hid the boots for a fourth time. By this time, his ride to the workshop had come and gone. It took a few more games of boot hide-and-seek before he slowly put on his boots and his house leader drove him to work. As she wryly noted when she was telling me this story, she had to give Gerard credit – his boot-hiding spots got progressively more difficult!

When the Shalom Community celebrated its 10th anniversary in 1982, it began looking into its past, contacting family and friends from its first decade. One assistant decided, on a whim, to see if he could track down someone related to Gerard. By cold-calling people in the phone book with the same last name, he eventually reached Gerard’s brother, who had recovered from his war injuries. At first, the man thought the assistant was a crank caller, but finally, he was convinced that the person on the other end of the line had Gerard beside him, and he was alive!

The assistant took Gerard shopping for some special clothing to wear to the anniversary celebration. From all reports, he was the prince of the party, looking very dapper in a tuxedo and soft Italian leather shoes – especially with his smile! No one was prouder or happier than the brother who was finally able to keep the promise he had made to look out for Gerard.

As it turned out, Gerard's mother was still alive, so a special homecoming was planned for her long-lost son, who wore his tux and special shoes for his first visit with his entire family in over 30 years. It was a jubilant, and very French, celebration. Did they kill the fatted calf? We don't know, but Gerard's mother was every bit as happy as the prodigal father, overjoyed to see the offspring she had thought dead. She showed to Gerard’s assistant the letter she had mistaken for a death notice, and thanked him many times for bringing her son home. 

It's not hard to imagine that Gerard smiled his beautiful, room-brightening, heart-melting smile, and gave his special thumbs-up sign all around. Maybe he even danced.

An Easter story if I ever heard one!

Telling an amazing story

More and more, I'm realizing that I really am a writer. I mean, anyone can sit down and write, but a lot of people have a hard time with syntax or grammar or misplaced modifiers. I used to be that way, too, but after over ten years of writing an actual manuscript that I hope will be published and sell many copies (see last Tuesday's moodling), I finally understand how words work, how necessary good spelling is, and the importance of varying sentence structure. Not that I'm perfect, and not that my prose is at all poetic. It is readable, and after having a few people say, "you're a good writer," I'm finally starting to believe it.

So now that I've finished one major writing project, I've gotten myself into a pickle. My boss and the Board Members of L'Arche Edmonton asked if I would consider writing the history of the Edmonton community over the last 40 years. Because I love the community, and I believe in the importance of knowing from where we have come, I didn't even think twice before I said yes! What could be more interesting than getting into the how and why of a community made up of people with and without disabilities who live together, family style, and who offer society a completely different understanding of the value of those who have long been denigrated and misunderstood -- labelled "retarded" and other, even harsher names -- but who have the most to teach us about loving unconditionally? (And am I really a writer, after that ridiculously long sentence??)

Eight years after L'Arche was founded in France, Doris and George Myers bought a duplex in Sherwood Park and welcomed one man with disabilities and four assistants to what eventually came to be known as the Shalom Community, or L'Arche Edmonton. It was that simple.

Within a year, the community numbered 35! You see, it's an amazing story that I have been asked to tell. In reading previous versions of the history written by others, and through interviewing people who have been involved over the last 40 years, I am getting a picture of something very challenging, and extremely beautiful. L'Arche Edmonton has had no shortage of visionaries who have helped the community along, giving their time, energy, and many talents toward creating "home" for people who, in the not-so-distant past, were left in psychiatric wards even though their only issues were intellectual disabilities. If you don't know what I'm referring to, just reread the story of Thomas.

The community has also had its share of struggles. As with any family, personalities sometimes clash, and the fall out can be messy. Different people have different ideas about what needs to be done, and how to do it. There were several times that things almost fell apart entirely, but for different people coming along with fresh perspectives, willing to compromise or try things a little differently. Like any ideal, L'Arche has yet to be fully lived in some respects, but members continue to try to reach the ideal -- a life where people with disabilities are valued and understood to have just as much to offer the world as those who don't. I suspect the challenge and the beauty of living that ideal are similar in every L'Arche community, from El Arca Buenos Aires in Argentina all the way to L'Arche Zimbabwe and every other corner where L'Arche can be found.

In L'Arche communities around the world, there are probably hundreds of thousands of life-changing and mutually life-giving encounters between people with and without disabilities that are nothing short of inspirational. It's my task to capture a few of the local ones. Interviewing past members of the community and sorting out the details is turning out to be a mammoth challenge for someone whose writing abilities were forged in fiction, but it is a challenge I am enjoying nonetheless -- I find myself in a very positive pickle. I only wish that everyone in L'Arche Edmonton could be with me as I talk with people about our history, as I'm seeing that there is no way I'll be able to do justice to all of the amazing events and people from the past 40 years! And I'm only writing the first chapter! The hope is that the history will be ready in time for L'Arche's 50th Anniversary in 2014, but we'll have to see how things go.

Stay tuned, as I suspect a few stories from this positive pickle I've gotten myself into -- or, rather, this labour of love -- will appear here, simply because they're too good not to share!

The beauty of L'Arche, 40 years later

This weekend, on Saturday, our L'Arche community here in Edmonton is celebrating its 40th anniversary. Just eight years after the beginnings of the first home of L'Arche in Trosly, France, a couple in Sherwood Park bought a duplex in Sherwood Park, christened it Shalom House, and invited four assistants and one core member with developmental disabilities to make it their home. 40 years later, there are six homes and a Day Program for our community, which includes more than 20 core members, and assistants from across the globe.

Now that I think about it, I grew up with L'Arche. When my family arrived in Edmonton in 1974, we met some of the first community members at our church. I witnessed the assistants and the core members going shopping together, participating in parish picnics, and especially, enjoying music at mass by dancing in the pews. They always seemed to be happy!

During my university years, I worked at group homes run by Resources for Dependently Handicapped (RDH). It was while I was there that I learned about the beauty of L'Arche. One of the fellows I worked with had been an assistant at L'Arche, and he pointed out the difference between institutional group homes modelled on L'Arche, and the real thing; the difference between L'Arche assistants who share life with core members, and group home staff who work shifts with clients. That's when I decided that I wanted to work for L'Arche.

Of course, life took me in other directions -- until three years ago, when my friend who is now the L'Arche Community Leader asked if I would mind helping her out part-time with filing, typing, and whatever other odd jobs she might need done. The job bonuses are plenty -- sharing a little bit of my life with the community, working with a wonderful admin team, kibbitzing with the core members who come to the community centre for our Day Program, and feeling like I've found another home.

Yesterday, I was at the other Maria's desk making a phone call (there are two of us Marias sharing the same office) when Thomas came into the room.

"You taking Maria's job?" he asked. I nodded, in the middle of ordering anniversary cake. "Then I take your job," he said, gleefully settling into my chair.

I shook my finger at him and finished my call, then went over to shoo him away from my desk.

"Unh-uh, my job now," he teased.

"Okay," I said. "You work hard. I'm going to get a cup of tea."

I returned four minutes later, and he was still sitting there, smiling like the Cheshire cat. "My job now," he said again.

"Okay, Thomas, then I'll have to sit on your knee to get my computer work done."

He didn't budge, so I half-sat on his knee, and said, "Owww, Thomas, you're a hard chair. Too lumpy!"

He laughed, but didn't move until I told him that I had a real job for him, and got him to do a little bit of "decorating work" for the anniversary celebration.

The thing about L'Arche, its real beauty, is in the relationships between community members. In the early days of L'Arche Edmonton, the founders took the view that they had to save people with developmental disabilities from the misery of institutional life. But over time, many of us involved with L'Arche have come to see that it's the people with disabilities who save the rest of us from thinking ourselves indispensable, from being self-centred, and from taking ourselves too seriously. They help us to realize that while we all have our burdens to carry, none of us need to be perfect, but all of us need to be loved. 

At L'Arche, we have much to celebrate! Happy 40th Anniversary, my dear friends!

Time for Art From The Unknown

Today's moodling is a quick one... this weekend, at the Cosmopolitan Music Society (8426 Gateway Boulevard), Rachel Notley is hosting the fourth annual Art From The Unknown event. Rachel, who is a local Member of the Legislative Assembly, offers free gallery space to people who wouldn't otherwise have the opportunity to show their work. Some of our L'Arche members have been busy preparing for this show, and will be on hand to meet art connoisseurs.


Some of my family attended last year, and I picked up this lovely abstract titled A Walk in the Woods, painted by one of my L'Arche friends, which makes it extra special. If abstract isn't your style, the art at the show covers the gamut, and prices are reasonable. If you're looking for a gift or something to grace your walls, check it out! And say hello to the artists. They have a lot of interesting stories to tell about their work... it's definitely worth the trip, if only to encourage others in their passion for creating art!


Art From The Unknown
Friday October 26, 2012 6:00 PM – 10:00 PM
- Opening Night Reception with live music, everyone is welcome
Saturday October 27, 2012 9:00 AM – 8:00 PM - General Gallery
Sunday October 28, 2012 11:00 AM – 3:00 PM - General Gallery

A L'Arche Birthday

Today is my birthday and a work day... but I was happy to go to work, because people at L'Arche can be counted on to celebrate any and every occasion. When I arrived, one of my favourite assistants had left a beautiful Northern Lights postcard on my desk. She appeared a little later to give me a hug. And Thomas overheard. "Your birthday?! Happy Birthday!" he said, and gave me a hug. A little while later, he gave me another hug when I reminded him of my birthday. The next time I saw him, I said, "It's my birthday, Thomas!" and he said, "I hugged you this morning." No fooling him!

I've been missing so many L'Arche events and activities because of my dizziness lately that I've been feeling a bit like an outsider. But today, I realized that even though I'm not there as much as I'd like, I'm still part of the family. I'm not sure how they managed, but the L'Arche community pulled a birthday cake out of thin air before I had to catch my bus home... and twenty people with and without disabilities sang for me and gave me a card. We all got a piece of cake, and I haven't stopped smiling since because of all the hugs from my L'Arche family. Sandy just wordlessly came and put her head against my shoulder.

Any excuse to party is a good one! My birthday included. Happy Birthday to me!

I share chocolate with you

At my desk in our big classroom office at L'Arche yesterday, I looked up to see Thomas enter the room, clutching something to his chest like he didn't want anyone to see it. In his hands was a small box of chocolate almonds, the kind packaged for fundraisers, and Thomas was clearly waiting for me to notice.

"Hi, Thomas," I said. "What are you eating?"

"Chocolate. I'm not sharing," he announced.

"Oh, Thomas," I replied, "I thought we were friends. Don't I share my cookies with you sometimes?"

No reply. Thomas was ignoring me, busy eating his almonds. When he looked at me again, I said, "Don't friends share? I just want one."

He poured a few more into his mouth, and I couldn't help but grin. He was enjoying this.

"I love chocolate," I said, "especially from my friends."

No reply.

"I really love chocolate, and it's really nice when people share."

He went to the windows and looked out as though he was thinking really hard. Then he looked at me, poured one almond out of his box, and gave it to me. I thanked him, saying, "Now I know that we're really friends, Thomas, because you shared with me too."

"I share chocolate with you," Thomas said, a huge chocolate-toothed smile on his face.

"Thank you," I said, "it's delicious." As he headed for the door I said loudly, "I love chocolate, and I love Thomas."

He kept going like he didn't hear me, but he returned several times that morning, wearing a big grin, saying, "I share chocolate with you."

"Yes, you're my friend," I replied, thinking, I know, Thomas. I love you too.