What Goes Around…

Have you ever had one of those perpetual verbal exchanges of gratitude – you know, where you start off with “thank you,” and the other person says, “no, no, thank you,” and you insist, “no, thank you,” and she butts back in, ”really, thank you,” and there’s apparently no end in sight?

My husband’s place of work held an AGM recently. And when his colleague wrote to thank the caterer – the food, after all, was awfully tasty – the response was glowing.

“Thank you so much for your email!” wrote back Jane, the corporate functions manager at Pappas Grill in Toronto. Then she added: “I have to tell you that I was touched when I realized what your organization is all about.” (For those not in the know, hubby’s agency provides peer support, info and empowerment to people with disabilities.)

“I have a brother who is deaf,” Jane wrote. “…I know that without the services of organizations such as yours it would have made his life a whole lot more difficult. All of you are very special, and what you give to the community is immeasurable.”

When a thank you in response to a thank you makes you feverish with warm fuzzies, it’s the sort of letter that is sure to get forwarded all over the office. That’s in fact how I heard about it. And when I contacted Jane to ask if I might publicly share her kind words, she agreed, then confided that she had been moved to tears after meeting the folks at my husband’s workplace and learning what they do.

“We often lose sight of the things that we have to be grateful for in this life,” she told me. “We all have our own personal challenges, some more than others. It’s a blessing that there are people in this world who dedicate their lives to helping others in need.”

It’s true. We’re lucky to have folks devoted to helping us. And I think that’s true whether or not we have disabilities, or enough to eat, or a roof over our heads. As I mentioned just this week, I have friends who make sure my family gets a Thanksgiving dinner invitation. I have another neighbour committed to keeping my lawn from getting overgrown. I have other pals who pitch in without waiting to be asked. I have colleagues who are generous with their time and support. I have family members who are dedicated to easing my burdens in whatever way they can.

So to all you people in this world who spend time and energy assisting those in need, thank you. No, thank you. Really, I insist, thank you.

You get the idea.

Table for four… who’s with me?

Out of Work but in the Zone

I received a phonecall from a friend of mine this weekend. Her husband lost his job. He had no warning. The family of four is devastated, not knowing how they’ll meet their monthly expenses, wondering how they can cut back.

A day later, I saw what she’d posted on her Facebook page. Was she pity-partying (“Need a hug, we’re unemployed now“) or, worse, vaguebooking (“My world is crumbling…”)?

Nope. My open-hearted friend was posting instead about the charity event she and her family had participated in over the weekend. She used the adjective “amazing” liberally. She sounded exhuberant.

And why shouldn’t she be? Contributing to a cause can help you cope with those events that smack you across the face. It can distract you, remind you that while you’re dealing with a job loss – or an aging parent or a bully boss or a diet fail – you’re not the only one who’s struggling. And, of course, there’s that kindness kickback, that feeling a few notches better just because you know you’re making a difference.

So, today’s advice to the job seekers: File away your ROE, sure. Update your resume, naturally. Submit your applications where appropriate, of course.

Then go get high on helping.

Sealed with a Kiss

If you’re up for another story about a sweet kid, let me tell you about the daughter of my friend Susanna. Her name is Julia. As a future marine biologist (not to mention aspiring Broadway performer), she’s devoted to helping sea mammals.

In the past, Julia has baked goods and made necklaces to raise funds for the Pacific Marine Mammal Center in Laguna Beach, California, where sick or injured seals and sea lions are rehabbed and released. This past weekend, Julia raised the stakes. To mark her bat mitzvah, the 12-year-old organized her own animal-rescue fundraising carnival at her neighbourhood park in Bonita Canyon, California. She’s clearly a persuasive as well as caring girl, since the preteen managed to get her hands on a donated bouncy castle and snow cone machine, in addition to convincing her friends to help with face painting and games.

Her mom reports success. Julia raised $500 through carnival activities and $300 more from her bake and jewellery sales. “She was quite pleased with herself, and very excited for the animals,” Susanna says.

There’s more: At Julia’s upcoming bar mitzvah celebration, the flower budget will be blown instead on basket centerpieces stuffed with items the marine mammal centre can use. “I’d rather do something we can donate than spend a whole bunch of money on something we are going to throw away,” she told a local newspaper reporter.

I haven’t seen Julia in person since she was a baby. But it’s clear that this talented girl is growing into a thoughtful human being. On behalf of all the cute-looking seals, way to go.

True Colours

Artists (I know a few of them) are nice people. They’re creative and interesting. Sure, they tend towards the flamboyant and excitable, sometimes the mildly alcoholic. Almost without exception, though, they’re unfailingly fun to be around.

I have a feeling that artist Jenny Lynn Unrein is more of the straight-and-narrow type. But if her work is any indication, she’s bright and she’s colourful and full of cheer.

“JennyLU,” as she’s known, is in her 20s and devoted to her art. She sells prints, notecards and calendars on her website. But Jenny also displays an eternal willingness to donate art to charitable organizations. Why? “It’s showing that you care about them. It’s showing respect and kindness,” Jenny tells me. And: “It helps me to give back.”

I first heard about Jenny through my friend’s new book, Flourish, profiling people with disabilities who live vibrant, passionate lives. Jenny has Williams syndrome, a rare genetic developmental disorder. Her stepmom Wendi says that when it comes to people with this condition, the urge to help others is “in their DNA!” (She’s right on the nose, as the gene differences lead to various likeable personality traits.)

Admit it: Jenny’s art lifts your spirits. But you don’t have to have Williams syndrome to want to help others. Maybe we need a name for the condition that we’re all born with, this drive to make a difference that is widespread in our species. Big-heart syndrome? My guess, people, is that you all test positive…

“Make a Difference,” by JennyLU Designs. You bet you will, Jenny.

Mountain Do

My friend Sven is making a career of good. He’s part of a United Nations mission in Iraq, protecting citizens in a place where he himself is not always stress-free or safe.

But it’s the children he thinks of, the small kids in struggling countries who are stuck with a mountain of trials.

Maybe that’s why Sven willingly took on a quest last month that would threaten him body and soul, but would also help the children of Iraq and other nations ravaged by war.

Sven was determined to try to conquer Canada’s highest peak and raise funds for UNICEF. He joined a small team of mountaineers and guides, flew to a Yukon glacier near the foot of Mount Logan and began a hard 17-day journey. Destination: 19,551 feet.

It was mid-May. I don’t know what you were doing while Sven was lugging a backpack and sled up a frozen mountain, roped to his teammates and trembling with cold. Me, I think I may have been near some garden flowers. There would have been sunshine. Possibly, I had a cocktail at hand.

Hundreds of people do it around the world, but let’s not forget that mountain climbing is a serious business. At one point, a snow bridge broke under Sven’s boot, exposing the deep and dangerous crevasse below. My stomach gets butterflies just reading his travel notes.

The team’s turning point came near the summit. Note “near.” They had made their final camp, and after 12 gruelling days, the group was only a few hours’ climb from the highest photo opp in the country. But a violent storm was on the way, and the leader of this expedition determined it was too risky to complete the climb.

He decided they would turn back.

There’s been a lot of dire news lately about mountain casualties. So I think even those of us with feet firmly stationed near sea level are aware that when your guide says go, you go. On May 28, Sven began the long trek downwards, frostbitten and struggling to secure footing in the fierce blizzard that now circled him.

I imagine Sven was sorely disappointed. But not-quite-conquering Canada’s tallest mountain turned out to be a sort of personal epiphany. In turning his back on a chance at death, Sven felt he understood just a bit better all the kids he was trying to help – kids, he says, who are “perpetually on the edge of survival.” And he felt connected to his cause. “UNICEF is all about providing opportunities for children… providing them with the means of pursuing their aspirations and dreams,” he notes. “Setting goals, embarking on a path, falling short, learning lessons – these are fundamental elements of human growth.”

So Sven’s climb may have fallen short, but it was long in lessons. “Had this been a ‘bluebird’ trip, with clear skies and a straight march up to the summit, it would have been a much less valuable experience,” he says now.

Did I mentioned my pal raised over $7,500 for UNICEF? How can that be anything but a win? Check out his fundraising page here (top up his total if you’re so inclined). Send him a message of support.

Then enjoy the flowers and sunshine – don’t forget the cocktail, and be glad it’s June at a mere 347 feet.

He may look cold and miserable, but he’s actually pretty warm and friendly once you get to know him.

Don’t Stop Me Now

Yarnbombing? Sounds violent, but it’s completely the opposite. It’s a sweet, whimsical way to beautify your community and let your neighbours know you care.

At least, that’s how Knitting Guy sees it in Clairemont, California. This dad of a girl learned to knit and purl so he could teach the skill to his daughter. Now he “yarnbombs” the streets where he lives by outfitting stop-sign poles with knitted stems and leaves, turning a traffic control sign into… well, a pretty flower.

“This project has brought smiles across my community,” Knitting Guy told me. “I think it resonated with people because of its ubiquity, density and accessibility.”

Yes, his neighbours seem to like the skinny green sweaters. As he points out on his blog, it wouldn’t be difficult for any owner of sharp scissors to remove his work, yet no one has.

“After they were installed,” he recalls, “people in the neighborhood quickly adopted them and treated them as their own, sending sending e-mails defending ‘their’ flowers once they were threatened by the city.”

He hopes the blooms serve to brighten people’s day. (Knitting Guy also points out that although it’s rare for males to knit, gifting the ladies in your life with handmade scarves and dishtowels is not a bad way to impress them. Take note, men.)

Incidentally, KG is not the founder of the yarnbombing movement. At this moment, all over the world, people are outfitting phone booths, tree trunks, statues and parking meters with multi-hued handiwork.

Sure, technically it’s vandalism, and I wouldn’t go on record as a promoter of unlawful activity. But it’s hard to argue when the result is colourful… and kind of cozy.

Thanks to Knitting Guy for this pic of his craft. Doesn’t the stop sign look toasty?

A Tale of Carin’ Karen

About a year ago, I was catching up with an old friend who happened to be in town.

“Old friend” doesn’t actually capture the natural and solid connection that persists between me and most of the kids I grew up with. We lived in a tiny community, so we didn’t just go to school with our neighbours. We were on the same soccer teams, we were in the same choirs and brownie troops and 4H clubs. Their parents were our teachers and our librarians and our coaches. We babysat and we tutored each other.

In the case of Karen, she was my devoted piano student (which means her family is responsible, in part, for funding the university degree I have buried in a file somewhere).

You’d think, living and working so closely together, we’d all have known each other’s histories up and down. And often we did. But throughout those years, Karen was experiencing health challenges I never knew about.

One thing I never forgot about Karen: She was strong. She had to be, as the youngest of four loud siblings. She told, not asked, her mother to hire me at the piano. She personally handed over my weekly fee. She worked harder at this instrument than any other student I ever taught. When she passed her exam with honours, I couldn’t have been prouder.

So last year, when Karen asked me to take a look at a manuscript she’d written, I was happy to help. I was also surprised: It turned out to be a detailed and personal story of her decades-long struggle with epilepsy and seizures, brain surgery and depression.

She calls it the “roller coaster ride” of her life.

Determined as ever, Karen has now turned her experience into a printed book, with two selfless purposes: to inspire others living with epilepsy, and to raise money for awareness and research.

And while she works at promoting and selling her new book – she has already raised over two thousand smackeroos for Epilepsy Ottawa-Carleton because, remember, she’s strong – she continues to point to those who’ve supported her. Here’s a brief rundown: My pal Heather contributed her editing talents for an extremely modest fee. Last weekend, my sister Sylvie hosted a book signing at the local general store. A mess of family and friends have cheered Karen on for years.

If you needed any more proof of how gracious Karen can be, she takes four pages of her new book just to express her gratitude to these people. (Who doesn’t like a thank you?)

Want a copy of My Life Time Roller Coaster Ride with Epilepsy? contact author Karen Fisher at karen.fisher@xplornet.com.

Tell her hi from me.

Pretty in purple: Karen and my sis Sylvie share a moment at the book signing.

The Blind Side

“My heart is warm and glad this morning,” my friend Kim blogged on Tuesday. Truthfully, it wasn’t all that unusual, since Kim is a generally sunny person. But this week she was particularly moved. Backtracking: Kim writes a blog that I love to read, called “Great Things about Being Blind.” I’m her number-one fan.

Kim, a storyteller and disability trainer, lives in Ottawa and has been blind from birth. I’ve known her for years. On her blog, she talks about some of the most rewarding, fascinating or just plain funny experiences that her blindness has afforded her.

“I started the blog because I was concerned about the way blind people are perceived and portrayed,” she says. Read a few of her posts and I promise you’ll learn, and laugh. Maybe occasionally blubber a bit.

Often, even while you’re giggling, your eyes are opened. Read this story about two obnoxious ladies on the sidewalk (and Kim’s grace in an awkward situation), and you’ll see what I mean.

Sometimes Kim writes about her work, or media, or travel. There was that time an airline pilot, in full uniform, took Kim’s guide dog for a pee break during a flight stopover – earning some extremely startled looks on the tarmac. Sometimes Kim talks about her childhood: the letters from Santa that were written to her in Braille, the time she gazed romantically up at the moon, only to learn she’d been staring at a streetlight. The site is full of details about Kim’s job, about her guide dogs, about learning to ice skate, about how she identifies money or reads audio books.

For Kim, it’s an outlet. “Even on the day when my retired guide dog died, writing about it was so wonderful,” she recalls.

The thing about a blog is that anyone in the world can read it. “You never know what situation someone is in when they happen upon your words,” Kim says. “You don’t know who you will reach. You offer a gift, and someone takes from it what they take.”

This week, the woman who took Kim’s gift was a new mother across the Atlantic Ocean who had just learned that her baby is completely blind. She was distressed and despairing – until she found Kim’s blog and started reading. That’s when some of the anguish slipped away. She had found hope. And she emailed Kim to tell her so.

“I felt so touched,” Kim says. The new mom lives in England, but the two women have been exchanging emails all week. Even Kim’s own mom has been passing along encouraging messages.

Just imagine the impact that Kim’s funny, encouraging, personal stories have now made on a family three thousand miles away.

“We may never meet,” Kim says. “But I’m glad to know I made a difference for her at a rough time.

My beautiful friend Kim with her unquestionably devoted (if slightly slobbery) guide dog, Tulia.

Foul-Weather Friends

Winter’s almost over. In fact if you live where I do, it feels like winter’s been over for about four months already. But for those of you who got hit with that widespread snow dump on the weekend – well, winter still knows how to get all up in your business, doesn’t it?

Snow can be a mess, a chore, a pain in the frozen behind. Or it can be an occasion to lend a helping hand to someone in your community. My friend Jill, a busy single mom, looked outside at 8:00 a.m. on Saturday to find her driveway plowed clear, her car brushed clean of snow and her front steps shovelled into pristine condition.

Now Jill could appreciate her neighbours and Mother Nature. “After 15 cm of snow it was wonderful to wake up to all the white and my clean driveway!” she wrote with gratitude on Facebook that morning. In fact, Jill was downright cheering: “I am very lucky!!! I can head to my couch with tea and a book. I have an extra 1/2 hour to myself!!! Yeah!” (Note: No exclamation marks have been harmed in the making of this blog post.)

As someone who prizes hot drinks and literature, I could almost imagine myself curled up on the easy chair next to Jill’s couch. Bliss. When a kind deed can make someone feel this good, we call it mileage. Pass it on.

Finding the meaning in all the white stuff.

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Kindness

Holiday shopping – urgh. We all have our horror stories. But very often we also have touching stories, and today I’m going to share my friend Leisa’s tale.

It started brutally early on Monday morning. At least it felt early to my pal and her husband Jim, both of whom, for a host of conspiring reasons, are sleep-starved and bleary-eyed these days. The couple had already hit several specialty stores before reaching their local shopping mall. Then there was a brief delay in the parking lot, where they stopped to help push a stranger’s car closer to the set of jumper cables that would revive it. “It was no big deal – our good deed for the day,” Leisa told me.

This particular shopping mall covers 1.6 million square feet, and Leisa and Jim probably ended up treading across every single one of them. Five hours and many, many stores later, the worn-out pair suddenly noticed that one of their shopping bags was missing.

“It was a bag containing $103 worth of clothes for the kids, which was our largest purchase of the day,” said Leisa. “Jim only then realized he’d set it down somewhere. But the question was… where?”

Already physically drained (and perhaps financially too), the couple began the painful process of retracing their steps. In the Christmas section at Zellers they hit gold. A store clerk had stashed the bag safely behind the customer service desk. “What a huge relief,” Leisa said. Sure, they were relieved, but they were also near comatose with exhaustion, and the long lineup at customer service did nothing to pick them up. Happy times again – the same saintly store staffer noticed them waiting and jumped the line to retrieve their shopping bag.

“With our fatigue and then the stress over our almost-loss, I was almost in tears when he brought the bag out to us, and I think he was really touched by that,” Leisa said. The group of three promptly traded heaping amounts of good cheer, each not to be outdone by the others: “We offered ‘Merry Christmases’ back and forth about four times before we left!”

Now it’s my turn to offer you heaping amounts of holiday cheer. Whatever you celebrate, whether it’s Christmas or Festivus or just the fact that you’ve got Three Days Off Workivus, I hope it’s done with good company, good food and something jolly in your glass. All the best!

Lisa is making merry and will be back in 2012.