11,550 days -- A tribute to Vivien

That's how long I knew her. 11,550 days. I know the date that I met my mother-in-law because it was the same day that I met my life partner. I remember Vivien meeting me at the door of her home with a big smile and a hug, even though she had never seen me before. I didn't expect her to be so tiny, barely reaching my chin, but soon realized that her small frame held vast amounts of energy.

We met because my best friend was marrying Vivien's third son, and Vivien was holding a wedding shower for Sue. As Sue's maid of honour, I was expected to be there to note down the gifts given and to help with hostessing. It was a whirlwind of a weekend, and I don't remember very much about it, other than meeting Vivien, her husband, Louis, and their second son, Lee, who is now the most important person in my life.

Mothers-in-law have some sort of reputation for causing trouble, but somehow she and I connected like magnets on fridges (she had lots of those, to hold up grandkids' art). Mom, as I was soon to call Vivien, had a deep, deep faith in God. She watched morning mass on TV every day that she couldn't attend in person, and surrounded herself with handwritten prayers jotted on small pieces of paper. She cooked up storms of food, shared dozens (if not hundreds) of recipes, usually with copious notes in the margins, and dispensed equal amounts of prayers, hugs, and cookies whenever she and Dad came to visit their kids in Edmonton. 

Vivien's 65th birthday

Vivien was a wonderful grandma who loved to read to her grandkids, play with playdough and Legos, or help little fingers to decorate cookies and cakes. She organized Easter Egg hunts in her back yard, baked many birthday treats, and never failed to ask, "how are the kids?" when we phoned her. She kept Canada Post in business, never forgetting to send a birthday or anniversary card, enclosing generous monetary gifts. She camped with us and sang with us and loved us well. She was a force of nature, and I'm pretty sure she's already prayed us all into heaven.

Somewhere around her 80th birthday, she tripped off a curb in a grocery store parking lot and fractured her pelvis. (We teased her that the wind had finally managed to blow her over!) After four days in hospital, she checked herself out because her food allergies were causing more problems than the fracture. 

Unfortunately, that was the beginning of a long slow decline -- during which, she still found the capacity to do good. She sponsored a younger sister of one of her home caregivers to come to Canada and assist her full time, with a two year contract leading toward permanent residency. Mom rarely did things for herself unless they helped others, too. Many of our Christmas gifts were purchased from organizations that supported the less fortunate, or came in the form of donations to charities on our behalf. 

Five-year-old Vivien

I probably didn't properly appreciate my mother-in-law until my children grew up and we had more time to chat without their small hands pulling her away to some activity or other. That's when I learned more about Vivien's life -- how she had grown up singing daily Mass in a small Cape Breton town, gone to college to learn "proper" French, and been a Home Economics circuit teacher -- moving every few days to teach at two different rural Cape Breton schools.

In 1959, Vivien's friend, Mary, found a newspaper ad inviting young people to work at the Banff Springs Hotel for the summer, and the two decided to apply for a Western Canada adventure that, for Vivien, lasted the rest of her life. She was thrilled to be working in Banff for Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip's visit that year, proven by a blurry motorcade photograph of the couple, and her lifelong love for the Royals. She never missed the Queen's Christmas message, and if Elizabeth II showed up on TV, Mom always commented on her elegance. 

As a young woman, Vivien herself was very stylish, and people often commented on the sharp outfits she sewed for herself. She loved to tell the story of how she first saw her future husband at a dance, wearing bright orange pants, and how she immediately told Mary that he was the man she was going to marry. Mary replied, "You'd better do something to fix his sense of style!"

Stylish lady

After the couple's first child arrived, Vivien's teaching career ended, and she immersed herself in being a mother (of five, eventually) and a farm wife, teaching herself to keep the books for the family's farm operation. She also designed and oversaw the construction of one of the family's homes. 

One by one, her kids headed to Edmonton for university, and she supported them with her prayers from afar. She was so proud of all her children and grandchildren (and one wee great-grandchild) and always looked forward to having visitors. Living on the prairies, she often commented on how much she missed being around water, and I will always remember how happy she was when we camped together near the shore in Waterton Lakes National Park.

She loved music, especially anything Celtic, and I have fond memories of Mom dancing in the living room with my kids. After receiving a palliative diagnosis in January, she was delighted when two of those grandchildren made a special trip, ukuleles in tow, to sing for Grandma, masks on. At a previous concert, before covid restrictions prevented indoor visits, she had them give their entire performance twice!

Vivien had her share of sorrows and struggles, carrying many of them in silence, turning them over to God daily. During our last visit with her the weekend before she died, she shared them in a whisper, and then fell into a deep sleep, from which it seemed no one could wake her. Not knowing what to do, we played her favourite hymns sung by fellow Nova Scotian, Anne Murray, spoke to her quietly, and shed many tears, thinking she was leaving us. However, after several hours, during my husband's vigil shift, she woke up, looked at him and whispered, "Lee, go to bed! It's late!"

Watching Mom's energy dwindle over the last few years has been a source of sadness for her whole family. With Dad being a man of few words, she was usually the one to carry our long-distance phone conversations, but over the last six months, her voice became weaker and weaker, though she usually managed to at least sign off with her trademark, "Love to you all." 

But at the end of a call the night before she died, she barely managed to whisper, "Love you." We told her we loved her too, as always. The next afternoon, we received the news that she had peacefully slipped away to be with the God in whom she entrusted all her cares. We miss her very much, but we know that she's pulling on God's apron strings for us, the family members and friends she left behind. That, or cooking with God in heaven's big, beautiful kitchen!

Vivien, Mom, you were a good woman, generous and strong, a friend, confidante, and support to many, including me, and a brilliant example of faith, hope and love. I am so blessed that you were my mother-in-law. I have no doubt that you are being celebrated in heaven with all the holy souls, and I look forward to meeting you again. Maybe then we'll finally have time to bake your famous apple turnovers together...

Sunday reflection: A prayer for the common good

Today's reflection is brought to you by
Romans 5:1-8.

You are our peace,
O God.

Your grace is our hope.

Even in our sufferings,
hope in you will
teach us to endure,
to become who we are meant to be,
to live toward your glory
for the sake of all your creation.

Our weakness has been strengthened in you,
because you have poured your abundant love
over us and all your creation.

That is the reason for our hope!

Remind us
in this time of crisis
that we are to act in the best interests
of our world community,
in the best interests of all that you have made.

Protect us from anxiety
and lead us to generosity.

Bless those
whose health and energies are most severely affected
by this pandemic,
and especially,
those who care for them.

May our prayer and care
fill them with your hope and strength!

Make us mindful of the good of all beings
as we move ahead,
aware that we are deeply connected
to all that you have made.

Help us to share your abundance,
your hope,
and to love one another
in all that we do.

+Amen

* * * * * * *

This has been a challenging week as we've gone from life as we always knew it to "a new normal," in the words of our local Chief Medical Officer of Health. It's a new normal that fits with a lot of our voluntary Lenten practices --  except now we are involuntarily giving up many sources of entertainment -- sports, theatre, dining out, community recreation, etc.

The list of closures and cancellations for local events and venues is growing daily, and we find ourselves using words like "social distancing" and "self-isolation." Our lives are being pared down more severely than we would choose. But rather than take these things as deprivation, why not translate them into personal "retreat"?

These changes are necessary in order to "flatten the curve" that is this pandemic known as COVID-19 so that we can cope with an illness that threatens us all in the weeks and months ahead. We don't want to overwhelm our healthcare systems by all getting sick at the same time.

I won't deny the fact that changes like these produce anxiety -- change at any time is a challenge. But I'm trying to see what's happening as a wake-up call for our human race, an opportunity to step back from the hectic, high-stress societies we have created, and to recognize that it's not our jobs or our possessions that give us value, but who we are and how we care for one another. I'm thinking especially of the people in Sicily, singing together from their balconies. I think they have the right idea.

If there is a silver lining to all this, it might be that in stepping back, we will find better ways to care for the common good of all creation. We can learn to be more generous, to seek out those in need and offer assistance in many different ways. Mainly, being a source of calm and care.

So I'm not writing about Laudato Si: On Care for Our Common Home this weekend. Instead, I'm thinking and praying about this pandemic, and recalling the last few lines of St. Francis' Canticle of Creation, from which Pope Francis took his encyclical's title. These lines remind us of our mortality and call us to patience and peace, just as this pandemic does. These are Francis' words:

Praised be You,

my Lord,

through those who give pardon for your love

and bear infirmity and tribulation.

Blessed are those who endure in peace

for by you,

Most High,

they shall be crowned.

Praised be You, 

my Lord,

through our Sister Bodily Death

from whom no one can escape....

Blessed are those 

whom death will find 
in your most holy will,

for the second death 
will do them no harm.

I praise and bless my Lord

and give you thanks

and serve you with great humility.

For all those who will not make it through this pandemic, for all leaders and caregivers, and for all of us, that we remain in God's peace and grace and hope!

+Amen.

All we need is radical love

After listening to the reading of the Gospel (Matthew 5:38-48) this morning, my mind went off on its own homily. I couldn't help but reflect on how Christianity is failing. And I think the reason for its failure is that too many of its churches have turned into tribal councils or morality police more concerned with ensuring that their "own flocks" follow the rules than with how we need to work together for the common good of all.

Of course, it's not Christ's fault, he who said that we need to live non-violently, go the extra mile for our sisters and brothers on the margins, love our enemies, be perfect as God is perfect and a few dozen other basic things that we seem to have forgotten in our relatively comfy, privileged pews. It's a rough, raw, radical love that Jesus expects of us, one that takes a hit without hitting back and still moves forward in humility, generosity, patience and compassion. It's how he lived -- his kind of radical love reaches through the centuries -- otherwise we never even would have heard of a small town preacher and healer from a backwater town in the middle East.

The word radical comes from the Latin word for root. Radical love roots our lives in the important things in life so that we can ignore the inconsequential ones and live simply, out of love. The only way our world will survive is if we return to radical love for our planet, for others, for creation, and for ourselves. We need to work for the common good, to turn the other cheek, to give our life energies to goodness, to love our enemies, to pray for those who persecute us and do all the other radical things that Jesus himself chose to do right to the end.

A tall order. But we're seeing far too much radical hatred these days, and it's clearly not the way our world needs to go.

What acts of radical love will you engage in this week? They don't have to be anything heroic, just rooted in love.

Welcoming migrants and refugees -- in laetitia!

Today is World Day of Migrants and Refugees, a day that should be declared publicly and celebrated more than it is. I know and love many migrants, some of whom started out as refugees, and they are all wonderful, hardworking, loving individuals who have enriched our society in more ways than we will ever realize.

Why can't everyone see that welcoming those who choose to come to our countries to find a better life is a good idea? They widen our hearts and bring so many beautiful gifts to share. Many of them, coming as they do from places where life is harder and more dangerous than we can possibly imagine, have a greater sense of hospitality than we do. I often think it must be difficult to come to North America, where really, unless we are Indigenous, we are all descended from migrants or refugees from years gone by. Unfortunately, many of us have forgotten that deep sense of hospitality that came with our ancestors from the "Old Country" by sheer necessity. I think it is a sing when we fail to extend hospitality to newcomers and conveniently forget that our people were newcomers, too.

Even so, they come, they surmount the obstacles that face them, and they become valued and valuable members of our communities. Their generosity has put me to shame on occasion -- I think of the people I work with at L'Arche who add so much joy and enthusiasm to my days with their cheerful greetings and unexpected kindnesses.

If we let them, most of our migrants and refugees want only to become our friends and colleagues, and their ability to open our minds and hearts is something we ought to value more than we do. They are not coming to take our jobs or make our lives worse -- they are often fleeing situations that are untenable. We are called to let go of our paranoia and fear of the other, to be welcoming, to join hands with those who come from afar, and to raise a song of gladness. Why not learn a song of theirs, and teach them one of ours?

This evening, we had a beautiful ecumenical prayer, and our last chant was the one posted below. "Rejoice in God, people of the earth! Serve the Lord with gladness!" is the direct translation of the Latin words. As the song lifted our hearts and reverberated through the worship space, I found myself thinking of the many refugees and migrants who have come to Canada in the past year, and how they have added to the mosaic of our life here with their many languages, cultures and traditions. It's definitely something to celebrate, with gladness, in laetitia!

Simple Suggestion #86 of 100... Bake two pies; give one away

I can just hear my sisters as they read this. "So is she going to give us a pie?" Hmm, I'll have to think about it. Hee hee!

Our dear neighbour, Back Alley Mary, was a great one for living out this particular suggestion. We were recipients of apple and cherry pies now and again, especially in apple and cherry seasons. She also brought zucchini loaf and pizelli, and other treats -- and we were delighted to be recipients of her generosity. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up.

But I'm afraid that, with three daughters and a husband to eat my now less-frequent baking, I don't give it away as much as I did when I had more time on my hands as a stay-home mom. But I should. It doesn't have to be pies. It could be cookies, or loaves of Amish Friendship Bread or jars of pickles, or anything home made.

Maybe I'm turning into an old fashioned girl, but when neighbours share food, community is created, and heaven knows we could all use more of it.

So this afternoon, I think I'll bake 3 loaves of something yummy, give one to my neighbours, and yes, my sisters, I'll save one for the two of you.

P.S. Looking for more Simple Suggestions? Try here.

Update: Packing with Darren, and the new L'Arche van

These days, as I'm moodling my 100 Simple Suggestions, my life behind the scenes is anything but simple. For the next two weeks, L'Arche Edmonton is moving offices and Day Program to a new location, and life will get more chaotic before it gets less so. For example, today I went to work to pack my boss' office. She's away at national meetings in Montreal, and my plan was to get everything she won't be needing until after the move packed into crates. But first I went to my office to do a little typing for her. When I finished that, I headed to her office, only to find it locked -- and the two people with keys gone to see about preparations at the new location!

Of course, there's no shortage of work elsewhere, so I followed a co-worker's suggestion and started wrapping and packing pictures in the community room. It was quiet, and I was alone for quite a while, or thought I was until I heard an odd huffing sound behind me. When I turned to investigate, I found Darren on the other side of a stack of crates, adjusting things.

I'm not sure what it is about Darren that warms my heart. Maybe it's that he gave me my first L'Arche "hug." He certainly isn't beautiful. He doesn't speak, except with gestures and unusual sounds. He often stands and rocks, his hands making spastic movements that rival anything those "popping" dancers do. I suspect my appreciation of Darren is all these things combined with the fact that he likes things the way he likes them. He's the guy who makes sure the pictures on the wall are hanging perfectly straight. It's his gift. Today when he came to see what I was doing, I watched as he went to where some crates were standing haphazardly on a table. He lined them up perfectly parallel to the table's edge. Then he picked up a few tiny pieces of paper that were scattered on the floor. I gave him a few bits that had torn off the newsprint I was using to wrap pictures, and he put them in the garbage can for me. When he ran out of little things to tidy, away he went.

This move is a difficult thing for many of our people with disabilities at L'Arche. Change and all the uncertainties it brings has everyone on edge to a certain degree. But Darren is still Darren, simply straightening and tidying, and making me smile.

***

Way back in November, I shared a video link about the L'Arche community receiving a very generous donation from Shaw Cable. It allowed for the purchase of a new disabled-accessible van for transporting the Day Program participants to their community involvements. The new van arrived last week, and I've had several people tell me about the party that erupted in the parking lot when the dealer delivered it. The entire Day Program went outside to celebrate with drums and cheers, and the people who brought the vehicle commented that they had never received such a welcome in their lives. When I saw Thomas on Tuesday, the first thing he told me was that he rode in the new van!

Even in the midst of the chaos, we always have things to celebrate at L'Arche. That's part of the reason I love my job.

I love my job...

You know you have a good job when...

... you look forward to Monday morning and seeing everyone again after the weekend.

... one of the core members comes around just to say hello and pass out hugs.

... people argue over who gets to do a favour.

... you're expected to eat birthday cake and kibbitz as part of a day's work.

... laughter floats down the hallways at regular intervals.

... you are thanked for the smallest things.

... you love the people around you, and are pretty sure they love you, too.

To be sure, working for L'Arche isn't a complete bed of roses, but it makes me very happy. The core members never fail to make me smile, and it's great to work with a group of colleagues who value simplicity, kindness and compassion over keeping up with the Joneses. Our people with disabilities have a lot to teach us able-bodied people about what's really important.

We've had some more excitement at work this week, after Tim's happy dishwasher story last week. People can be so generous! Here's a link that will work for this week only:

The link led to a Shaw Cable video. A representative of Shaw Cable came to the L'Arche Day Program to present a hefty cheque for the purchase of a handi-van that will be used to carry our Day Program members to their activities and community involvements. The Day Program presented the man from Shaw Cable with an abstract painting created by one of the Day Program members... and the party continued from there!

How to get a new dishwasher… Little Flower style

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!