A truly amazing story

Before I tell my amazing story, you might like to see this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=1&v=32FCBVCWUXI

It's a song I learned in the early 80's from a wonderful folk singer named Joan MacIsaac. Joan was a warm and wonderful person who performed locally, and we had a few common friends who would let me know when she was performing so that I could attend her shows. I loved the song you see above from the very first time I heard it. So I borrowed some money from a friend, bought Joan's Wintersong album, and committed those lyrics to memory almost immediately. I wanted to sing them for my high school friends at a party we had right after graduation, before we made our way in the world. I remember Joan mentioning that she liked to sign off on her personal letters with the song's title, and I've adopted that, too, often shortening it to just, "Hovering, Maria," when I write to my friends who have heard me sing the song. That would include my best friend, and friends from summer camps where I met some pretty special people.

After finishing university, I traveled around North America and Europe for a year with a performing group where I made some more life-long friends. I taught the song to some of my cast mates, and we sang it to the rest of our cast at a year-end talent show. And I also sang Joan's "When I Can't Play" as my grande finale, inviting them all to sing along. Needless to say, they loved it.

A few years later when I attended our Edmonton Folk Music Festival, I felt like I'd been punched in the gut when another performer mentioned that Joan had died, still very young, and with so much talent untapped. He sang "Wintersong," and I sat and cried. Joan had been so positive and encouraging of me and my rather inferior talents, and when she sang, she shone like the sun. The music world dimmed for a time -- and I was really sad when my record player needle wore out and I could no longer listen to her album. But it's a rare occasion when I don't play "I Hover Over" on my guitar, though I realize now that I've got it a little bit "wrong," probably because of all the years of singing from my faulty memory! I've sung it for many special people over the years, usually when there was soon to be "miles between us..." that, of course, "don't mean a thing..." because "we conquered them so many years ago..."

It was a chilly day in February of 2010 when I realized that an over-seas friend was celebrating her birthday, so I sent her an email signed, "I hover over your left shoulder." She responded within the hour, saying, "I remember! But I can't remember the melody!" Having nothing better to do right then, I set up our digital camera and started to make a video, but Buddy the Budgie struck up a scolding ruckus. So I opened his cage door and the second take is what you see above. I couldn't have planned it better myself, with him sitting on my left shoulder being his boppy little self! He was chattering up a storm, all his favourite phrases, like "Whatcha doin?" and "Hey, Buddy!"

Worried about copyright infringement, I searched the internet to see who I could ask for permissions before posting the song, and even tried to look up Joan's record label, but came up empty as Joan's music was written pre-internet. Taking a chance that no one would object, I uploaded the video, and sent the link to my friend overseas, who was very pleased to sing along. The video has also made the rounds with other cast mates and a few high school buddies.

A couple of years ago, I was snooping around YouTube and found that a certain Paul MacIsaac had put many of Joan's songs up on the platform. I sat and listened to them all, and sent a little note via his YouTube channel to thank him, but whether he saw it or not, I don't know. I'm not sure how these things actually work a lot of the time, so maybe it didn't get through.

Fast forward to this year. I keep some of my videos on this blog in the far right "Songs" tab under the header picture above, and have received some wonderful comments over the years from people who knew Joan MacIsaac, or who wish they had. But in April, something really special happened. I received a message from one of Joan's immediate family:

Hi Maria. I have always enjoyed your videos of you singing Joan's music. Your joyful delivery is reflective of the encouragement and caring in her music and warms my heart and soothes the feeling of the loss of her incredible voice and talent. I am so grateful that you posted those when there was nothing out there of Joan's music after her death. I am Joan's sister Molly and had sung with her as a duo before she went solo... I witnessed the creation of many of her songs and there are still many more that were never published. Our brother Paul posted her music after you did. All our family had the opportunity to watch your videos and were grateful and encouraged by it. It was due to our great loss that there were years of silence. But now the music is still circulating and encouraging others as it was meant to be....

I responded immediately, so thrilled to have heard from Molly. I asked her where she was writing from and whether her family would prefer that I take my videos down. Unfortunately, there was no way of knowing whether she would ever see my message. I heard nothing further from her, and because her comment was "Anonymous," I had no contact info. Suspecting that Joan had family connections to the Maritimes, I thought Molly might live there. I gave up, hoping that somehow she would know how much I appreciated hearing from her.

In mid-July, I attended my nephew's wedding here in Edmonton. It was a lovely event, an opportunity to really enjoy the party and dance up a storm with my hubby without the responsibilities we had at our daughter's wedding two weekends before. I was thoroughly enjoying myself, being a bit of a goof, leading a chorus of That's Amore to get the newlyweds to kiss, and introducing myself as "Auntie Maria" to tell a story about my groom nephew for the same reason. My sister-in-law and I were very much enjoying dessert and a bottle of red wine when a small, attractive and sharply dressed woman with her hair in a silver bob came to me saying, "You don't know me, but I know you, Maria. You've sung my sister's songs on YouTube, and I've been so grateful for that!"

My chin dropped to the basement. "Molly??!!"

We were immediately wrapped in each others' arms and laughing at the quirkiness of life bringing us together as guests from opposite sides of a wedding. Molly is a dear friend of my new niece-in-law's family, and we have had several lovely email exchanges since that evening. There's no denying that she and Joan are sisters. And there's yet another connection between us -- my son-in-law has a close friend named Claire, who is the niece of Molly and Joan.

I am flabbergasted by all these sudden connections, and I think it's safe to say that Molly is, too. It has meant a lot to me to reconnect with someone so close to Joan, and it meant a lot to Molly that I thought to post a few low-budget home videos of Joan's music online when the loss of Joan was still too painful for her family to do it. As Molly says, sometimes we do these little things, put a little positivity out there for the world, with no way to know how far the ripples go.

It's been amazing to have these ripples come back to me with a new friend. I hope to sing with Molly sometime soon. Her family and mine both like to have singing parties, so perhaps we'll attend each others' somewhere down the road.

In the meantime, here is Joan singing the song that started it all, as posted to YouTube by her brother, Paul. No one can beat this -- she was an excellent guitarist, and I still just love her voice! Enjoy!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fQWyIklwOs

Laudato Si Sunday reflection: Indifference or making a difference?

Today's reflection is brought to you by
Luke 13: 1-9.

We know,
O Lord,
that the people killed by Cyclone Idai in Mozambique,
are not worse sinners
than we are.

We know that those who died
in the floods of Malawi and Zimbabwe
are not worse offenders
than anyone else on our planet.

We shouldn't be indifferent to these events.

We are all your children,
just as they are.

None of us are perfect.

But all of us
are called
to change
our lives,
from excess
to simplicity,
to reduce our impact on our earth
so that our sisters and brothers
who live
where the effects of climate change are strongest
have half a chance.

So that we all have half a chance.

And all of us
are called
to change
our hearts,
to turn from fear and indifference
to loving action
so that our sisters and brothers
all over the globe
can live
in peace and sufficiency.

You are the Master Gardener.

You see our barren branches,
our sins and shortcomings,
and still you give us
another chance.

May your tender care
help us
to change our lives and hearts
so that we may also offer
your tender care
to those who need it most.

+Amen.

* * * * * * *

Cyclone Idai has been very much on my mind as I reread the sections on Global Inequality (paragraphs 48-52) for this week's reflection on Laudato Si: On Care for Our Common Home (they can be accessed by clicking here.) As usual, they are packed with ideas worth noting and discussing.

When I began studying (and practicing) voluntary simplicity, the fact that a lifestyle like mine is lived by only the top 8-12% of the world's population hit me like a ton of bricks. You could say that I finally began to wake up to the way that my life was depleting the lives of those in the developing world. "Both everyday experience and scientific research show that the gravest effects of all attacks on the environment are suffered by the poorest," as the pastoral letter of the Bolivian Bishops quoted in paragraph 48 notes -- and the worst damage to the environment arises out of our throwaway consumerism which depletes and pollutes places far from our sight, often in the Global South.

What's even worse is that these effects "are insufficiently represented on global agendas" to the point that most of us go through our days without giving much thought to our brothers and sisters in developing countries (the other 88-92% of  world population) whose lives are negatively impacted by our consumer demands. Except maybe when we see news reports like the ones from Mozambique this week.

Paragraph 49 begins by stating that "there is little in the way of clear awareness of problems which especially affect the excluded... one often has the impression that their problems are brought up as an afterthought... or... treated merely as collateral damage." Our brothers and sisters in the developing world are paying for the "lifestyles of the rich and famous" -- and those like me -- with the resources of their already impoverished countries. In the meantime, climate change is causing cyclones like Idai, flooding here, droughts and fires there.

Pope Francis nails it when he says: "...we have to realize that a true ecological approach always becomes a social approach; it must integrate questions of justice in debates on the environment, so as to hear both the cry of the earth and the cry of the poor" (paragraph 49). Have you heard the cries of the poor this week on the news? I am happy to see that Caritas Internationalis has a page for donations to help those in Mozambique, and I suspect Development and Peace is working on something similar.

The Holy Father and his writing team also note that "attention needs to be paid to imbalances in population density on both national and global levels, since a rise in consumption would lead to complex regional situations, as a result of the interplay between problems linked to environmental pollution, transport, waste treatment, loss of resources and quality of life" (paragraph 50).

Paragraph 51 clearly lays out the biggest problem -- the fact that the Global North's appetite for the planet's resources is huge in comparison to the Global South's, but it's the South that is feeling the worst effects -- environmental devastation through pollution, climate change, and the North's habit of exporting waste to the South (I read several reports this week on North American plastic waste being dumped in Malaysia because there's just too much to recycle).

Paragraph 52 points out that "The land of the southern poor is rich and mostly unpolluted, yet access to the ownership of goods and resources for meeting vital needs is inhibited by a system of commercial relationships and ownership which is structurally perverse." The rules are stacked against them. But Pope Francis wants us to change the rules, calling the northern rich to help pay ecological and social debt "by significantly limiting [our] consumption of non-renewable energy and by assisting poorer countries to support policies and programmes of sustainable development."

Probably the most important sentences in this entire section are the last two: "We need to strengthen the conviction that we are one single human family. There are no frontiers or barriers, political or social, behind which we can hide, still less is there room for the globalization of indifference."

Before radio, television and internet, we didn't know as much about our world or people in other countries. Are we now suffering "compassion fatigue," a numbness to the plight of people we should consider to be our brothers and sisters? Or have we simply adopted indifference as our modus operandi so that we don't have to change?

What would Jesus do? In today's Gospel, he reminds us that those who experience disasters are just like us. If he was giving today's homily, I suspect he would urge us to turn back to God, drop our indifference, and start making a difference.

How have you heard the cry of the earth and the cry of the poor this past week? How have you responded to those cries? What is one thing you did? What is one thing you could have done?

Laudato Si Sunday Reflection: Here am I; send me!

This Sunday reflection is brought to you by
Isaiah 6:5-8.

Holy Spirit,
I am like Isaiah,
feeling unworthy
or maybe,
overwhelmed,
in tackling the tasks
that you ask me to accomplish.

But it is me,
not you,
who is making excuses
and putting up barriers.

It is our humanity,
not you,
who pretend
that we can't do
what you ask of us.

So you send us fiery coals
to cleanse us of our guilt
and a multitude of messengers
to inspire us toward action,
prophets who say
"Wake up before it's too late!"

When you call our names,
asking,
"Who shall I send,
and who will go for us?"
give us all
the courage to respond,
"Here am I; send me!"

Holy Spirit,
help us to heal our home
and all its creatures.

+Amen.

* * * * * * *

This week, my reading of Laudato Si: On Care for Our Common Home in concert with this Sunday's readings has me thinking about a few people I've run into lately who have a pretty fatalistic attitude when it comes to the future of our planet and its species. I've been told in so many words that there's no point in even trying to reduce our impact on our earthly home because we're doomed anyway.

But I prefer Pope Francis' way of thinking. His appeal to us is clear: "Obstructionist attitudes, even on the part of believers, can range from denial of the problem to indifference, nonchalant resignation or blind confidence in technical solutions. We require a new and universal solidarity. (my emphasis) ... All of us can cooperate as instruments of God for the care of creation, each according to his or her own culture, experience, involvements and talents." (paragraph 14)

The purpose of our lives, our true meaning, is found where our passions and abilities intersect with the needs of the world. Such meaning is rooted in selflessness rather than personal ego trips -- and shopping trips! And it is selfless action to which Pope Francis -- and God -- call us. The ecological and social challenges of our planet can seem overwhelming, but if we all stop making excuses and work together out of love for our common home and each other, there is hope. If as many of us as possible say, "Here am I; send me!" we can change the course of history, as other brave souls have in the past.

It's only too easy to tell ourselves that we are alone and that other people don't really care about our planet the way we do. But if we really look around and listen to what's going on, we can see that more and more people are jumping on various bandwagons aimed at saving our environment, serving the poor, and finding ways to live more justly, as Laudato Si calls us to do. Have you heard about Change for Climate Edmonton yet? Just one tiny example of people trying to make a difference, and a bandwagon onto which more and more people in my city are climbing. Are there similar efforts where you live?

Isaiah heard God's call and responded whole-heartedly. Can we put aside our hesitations as Isaiah did?

Question for the week: How do we face up to our part in our planet's ecological and social struggles rather than making excuses, or living in resignation or indifference? What is one small action we can take to help heal our home and all its creatures?

sidewalk chalk art

Starting a bandwagon rolling...

This morning my neighbour, Mary Anne, and I came across a sight that caused us some dismay. Near one of our favourite park walkways, someone had held a party, complete with party poppers. In case you've never run across party poppers before (I hadn't, and hope I never do again!) they are little tubes with spring loaded cartridges that shoot tiny bits of sparkly plastic ribbon into the air. You can probably get them at the dollar store, but please don't! They're one of human beings' worst inventions, right up there with confetti mixed with glitter and other stuff that's disposed of for no reason other than human glee or convenience.

We walked past the mess as we started our walk, muttering about people who litter, and on our way home, the universe sent one of those handy but unsightly, blowing-on-the-wind-plastic-grocery-bags across my path. So when we got back to the party poppers site, we bent down and started picking up a thousand little bits of ribbon. Slippery stuff, hard to grab, sticking to our fingers, caught between blades of grass. Sort of like picking needles from haystacks, but not so sharp, thank heavens. It seemed an overwhelming task, as the stuff was spread out in a fifteen foot diameter circle -- but we were determined.

We weren't there for three minutes when an elderly gentleman, likely in his eighties, came walking along with his dog and started to help, though he had two artificial knees that wouldn't allow him to bend very well. Two more people came along and asked what we were doing, but didn't stay to lend a hand. Then another dog walker came, joking that we all must be picking up the tiniest doggie doos in the world on our hands and knees. When he saw how much we still had to collect, he knelt and helped too. Two more walkers joined us, and about fifteen minutes after Mary Anne and I started, the park was back to its natural state. No more tiny, sparkly bits of ribbon blowing around on the grass or ending up in magpies' nests, and we had collected a half-bag of the stuff.

Party poppers should be outlawed!

We were all pleased with our effort to restore the space to a litter-free place, especially the elderly gent, who makes it his mission to collect garbage in the park on a regular basis, and who commented that Wednesday is Earth Day!

On the way home, I found myself wondering -- if we hadn't started the little clean-up project this morning, would anyone else have? It would have been too much for the elderly fellow on his own. Once he started, he wasn't about to give up, though, artificial knees be darned. Sometimes it only takes one or two committed people to start a bandwagon rolling, and others jump on.

Seen any bandwagons lately that you might give a push?