Whatever He Says

In 2006, our daughter Brenda used to volunteer at Maple Lanes Kennel, near Alliston. It was from that kennel that Molson,  the most gentle of Golden Retrievers,  came into our lives. He trained as a therapy dog himself and is father of three  COPE  service dogs. Now my friend and coworker Irene, is awaiting the imminent birth of a litter of his pups being carried by a dog named Lyric, and she'll be choosing one of them to share her life. Today here's the story of one very special dog from Sherri's kennel and then a link and video about COPE. Back in 2006, Brenda recorded the details related to various litters of puppies on the computer--where the puppies went, to whom and for what purpose. The pure-bred dogs go all over the continent, some as far away as Yellowknife, Alaska, and some are trained for such unusual jobs as detecting bed bugs or termites! One dog's name struck her as unusual; her registered name was "Maple Lanes--You'll Have to Tri Harder"...

The March that is in my genes has "a host of golden daffodils,"  "fluttering and dancing in the breeze" (thank you William Wordsworth,) and although for a good two thirds of my life, I have lived with a very different reality, I can never quite shake the feeling that something is wrong in March--the weather angel didn't get the memo maybe.  Today icy rain needled the snow on the ground until it shrank back several inches from the piercing fingers of "Spring North American Style."  I was grateful to be cosily warm inside all day, but at 3.00 I decided to leave the house to run some errands, deciding that the efficiency of a Friday afternoon versus Saturday for shopping, would be worth braving the nasty weather.  My first stop was our little post office, in the basement of the  St. Catherine of Alexandria  church hall. I recently lost the set of car keys that had my mailbox keys on it, so I had to get replacements. Laurie, the postmistress wa...

This week, during some precious time off I have been taking care of some of the things that I have neglected for a while. I was probably supposed to be doing something on my To Do list when I got sidetracked by an on-line ad for the Organ Donor Registry. I went to the Service Canada website, followed the links and before long I was staring at a list of parts to potentially donate. I've always thought that carrying a permission slip in the depths of my purse was a rather tenuous means of communication; so deciding that there was no time like the present I decided to register officially which bits and pieces of me to pass on when I no longer need them.  Later that evening, Paul and I were having dinner in front of the TV, when I told him that I had registered and which parts I was donating. I could tell that I'd been more drastic than he felt comfortable with.  "So how are we going to have a funeral?" he said, and I could sense his discomfort with losing all of ...

I see the intensity and experience it personally too, sometimes we seem like so many tops, set spinning on Monday mornings by an invisibl e hand . We hit the ground running (or spinning) and work hard; focused. So focused that often we don't stop for lunch. Sound familiar? Slowing down in order to go farther and go better--that's what I'm suggesting. It's counterintuitive. We feel like we can't afford to miss a beat or take a breath--we fear that if we do, we'll drop the ball. And it's hardest when you work with people, because you feel guilty if you slow down, so much seems to depend on getting the work done. But can we afford not to?  And will we really drop the ball if we do?  I think the answer is "No." In their book,  Slowing Down to the Speed of Life (How to Create a Simpler Life from the Inside Out , Richard Carlson and Joseph Bailey propose that slowing down your thoughts will result in greater productivity and creativity, while...

There was a 9 year chunk of time, over thirty years ago, when our family lived with a group of people with developmental disabilities. That period formed my view of people with disabilities as people just like me, with the same human longings and weaknesses;  the same capacity for goodness or "Grinchiness;" greed or generosity; and any other virtue or vice.  Since then, I've worked in a system where staff support people in group homes, or their own apartments. The   Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms  guarantees the equal rights and freedoms of people with disabilities, but  I've often struggled with the knowledge that they and people without disabilities in the community experience very different realities in day to day life.   But change is happening as our agency and everyone in it, work towards our Vision Statement: People with exceptional needs belong to communities in which their God-given gifts are valued and respected. One important so...

The writing topic for our writers group tonight was "Nature/Creation." I had no time to write, so I checked the blog archive knowing that I would be sure to find much on that topic, since I am so often overwhelmed by the beauty splashed so liberally around on every hand.  I searched by the label "nature," and among the posts that came up, I saw this one, "A Golden Evening;" a description of one September evening, 41/2 years ago. The thing about writing is that you can capture a moment in time and relive it. The 10 and 11 year old granddaughters in the blog post are now 15 and 16, and so beautiful and sophisticated that I could have easily have forgotten who they were such a short time ago without this memory...  I tie the laces on my well used, dusty brown Rockport walking shoes and clip my Walkman belt around my waist; then reach into the closet for the red leash. A call for my golden friend and he gallops up the stairs, followed by an eager , smi...

Being the recipient of care was on my mind ten years ago in the first three months of 2004. My mother had just come home after several months in  hospital, having had a stroke in the fall of 2003. I discovered that to need care is to be in a vulnerable place, where strangers have access to the most private places of our lives.  Recently I spent some time with the grandmother of someone for whom our agency, Christian Horizons, is providing respite. A wonderful Italian "Nonna;" she had one daughter, whose genetic disease ultimately took her life in her forties.  When the time came when she could no longer care for her daughter, she went into a nursing home. With her permission, here are some thoughts she wrote about the people who cared for her daughter: During my lifetime I have often visited hospitals, nursing homes, homes for the disabled and schools for day programs. I would like to share my experiences and thoughts with doctors, nurses, social workers, family, fr...