People Are Priceless

There were several things I considered writing about this week.  End of the school year, etc.  But it’s hard to focus on normal activities when so much is going on south of us.

Television and social media has been bombarded with pictures and news stories of the flooding and destruction in southern Alberta.  While some of the stories have been negative (looting, price gouging, etc.), the majority have been positive:  people helping people, donations pouring in, emergency responders working round the clock to ensure public safety.

When disaster strikes, I think it’s interesting to note our first reactions:  Where’s my family?  Is my family safe?  What about my friends?  Who can I help?

We’re willing to leave everything, grab our loved ones, and get out.  We’re willing to open our homes to family, friends, and even strangers.  We’re willing to donate food, clothing, blankets, toiletries, toys, money, and time to help those in need.

Why?  Because deep down, we know our families and friends – and all people – are the most important things in this world.

Money and possessions are nice and even necessary, but when we lose belongings it’s the photographs, family mementos, and heirlooms – the reminders of times with those we love – that we feel most sick about.

Homes and vehicles and electronic gadgets can be swept away in a moment.  But relationships last forever.  That’s why we feel the urge to help, give, serve, praise, work, lift, and pull together in times of need.  Because we know people are priceless.

I wish we acted that way all the time.

Ringing Bells

One evening a few months ago, I went to the library.  When it was time to check out, no one was at the front desk.  Instead, there was a bell and a sign that said “Ring Bell For Service”.

I stood there and looked at that little bell.  Then I looked around to see if anyone noticed me.  If they did, they didn’t let on.

So I took a deep breath and rang the bell.  Someone immediately appeared and happily served me.

For some reason, I’ve never liked ringing bells like that.  I’d rather catch someone’s eye and smile to let them know I’m ready, or touch them on the arm and say, “Can you help me, please?”

As I left the library, I thought about why I react the way I do to ringing bells for service.  I was reminded of a book I read years ago called The Color Code by Taylor Hartman.

The premise of the book is that all people have a dominant “colour” or personality type.  In a nutshell, “Reds” need power and respect, “Blues” need relationships and appreciation, “Whites” need peace and kindness, and “Yellows” need fun and attention.

I’m a blue-red.  My husband is a blue-white.  The book helped me understand myself, family, friends, and co-workers better.  I found it interesting to see how other colour combinations interact.

It turns out I didn’t want to ring the bell because it might interrupt or annoy someone – in other words, hurt a relationship.  I was being a true Blue.

What’s your colour?

Laughable Lunches

About this time of year I get tired of making school lunches.  I don’t always make my kids’ lunches myself, but I’m still responsible to have food on hand for them to put together.

Finding lunch options that are healthy, quick, and affordable is an ongoing challenge.  Unfortunately, the food industry doesn’t make it easier for me.

Some choices are obviously bad, like pop, chips, and hotdogs.  But sometimes we think we’re making healthy choices when we’re not.  For example, a regular sandwich is probably made with genetically modified wheat bread, peanut butter (hydrogenated oil and icing sugar), and jam (lots of sugar).  If we choose lunch meat instead there’s usually nitrates and other words I can’t pronounce in those.

“Fruit” snacks have corn syrup and artificial flavours, “juice” boxes are often not juice but “cocktail” or “punch” with added sugar, granola bars are stuck together with oil and corn syrup, yogurt (the tasty, fruity variety) is full of sweeteners, and cheese strings are laden with fat and sodium.

There are healthier options out there, but you really have to search, read labels, or make it yourself.  It’s depressing.  Especially when we learn that “natural flavours” could mean MSG, ground bugs, or other nasty things.

These days, the term “healthy lunch” is laughable.  Only I’m not laughing.  I’m remembering my own school days:  “What’s that smell?  Oh, it’s just Kathryn’s lunch again – sardines on homemade whole wheat.”

I was hoping to spare my kids that, but I’m running out of options.

Bless Your Heart

Two weeks ago I got another one of those phone calls.  My dad had suffered a heart attack and was taken by ambulance to Foothills Hospital.

It turned out to be severe; one of his arteries was 100 percent blocked.  He underwent angioplasty and recovered for a week in hospital.  Now he’s home, adjusting to his new lifestyle and medications.

Considering the circumstances surrounding the attack (ie. that he was visiting my sister in Calgary just minutes from one of the best medical facilities in Alberta instead of driving through the mountains of BC, alone, as he was just two days before) I believe our family experienced a miracle.  Even the doctors said the only reason he’s still with us is because God didn’t want him yet.

Surprisingly, my dad had just undergone a thorough physical.  His cholesterol and blood pressure were good.  He doesn’t smoke.  He was a 70-year-old who acted like a 40-year-old.  How could he not have any warning he had Coronary Artery Disease?

Well, it turns out he did have some warnings.  But since he’d been given a clean bill of health, he chalked it up to indigestion or fatigue.  And since his brother died at age 70 from a stroke, he had studied up on the symptoms for stroke, not heart attack.

I heartily believe in miracles, but I also believe in being educated.  If you have any of the following symptoms:  chest pain or discomfort (pressure, squeezing, fullness), pain or discomfort in the arms, neck, jaw, back, or stomach, shortness of breath, cold sweats, nausea, or lightheadedness – call 911 immediately.

Life Stinks

Last week we bought a new sectional.  We were thrilled to find what we were looking for in our price range in town.  Thrilled…until we unpacked it and the off-gassing began.

This wouldn’t be such a problem if we could have our windows open 24/7, but we all know what kind of spring we’ve been having this year.  So I cracked the windows as much as I dared to offer some fresh air to counter the smell of chemicals.

When I asked the clerk how long it took their merchandise to stop off-gassing, he looked bewildered and suggested I spray it with a “freshening” product.  Sure, just what I need – to add more chemicals to the mix.

I once thought my acute sense of smell was a blessing to help offset my hearing loss.  Now, I’m not so sure.  I can’t stand the smell of so many things!

Like smoke.  No more campfires for me.  And here I was waiting for my baby to get a little older so we could really start camping.  It’s disappointing.

On the other hand, I’m surprised at how many people can’t smell things I can smell strongly.  We live in a world where tons of products which are not healthy to breathe are used regularly:  cleaning chemicals, fuel, pesticides, cigarettes, air fresheners, candles…

Even if you can’t smell it, you might want to think twice before you light up or spray.  Harmful chemicals and carcinogenic pollutants – many, ironically, in the name of beauty, cleanliness, or “health” – permeate our air unchecked.  And it stinks.

Too Busy For Excuses

The words “too busy” are a pet peeve of mine.  I try not to say them (although they may slip out occasionally) and I cringe when others use them.

I don’t mind the word “busy” on its own, or even “very busy”, “crazy busy” or a multitude of other words to describe “busy”.  But adding the word “too” makes all the difference.

“Too” is absolute.  No room to squeeze anything else in there – which wouldn’t be a problem if that’s what we really meant.  But “too busy” became annoying when it became an excuse – when we should be saying:  “I don’t want to”, “It’s not something I care about”, “I’d rather watch TV”, or “I didn’t have time because I procrastinated.”

We all have the same number of hours, days, and weeks.  It’s up to us how we use that time.  There are some people who are extremely busy on a regular basis and we all have days when we’re maxed out.  I get that.  I think everyone gets that.  So why not be honest about it?

Some look at “too busy” as the polite way of saying “no”.  However, for someone like me who thrives on heart-to-heart communication and meaningful relationships, “too busy” means “I don’t trust you enough to tell you what I really think or feel.”

Instead of saying, “I’m too busy” I’d like to hear: “I can’t sanely fit anything else in this week.”  Or “That’s not on my priority list right now.”  It would be refreshing to hear truth, not excuse.

A Mother's Day

After almost fifteen years of marriage and five children, my husband knows better than to ask what I’ve done all day.  Some days I proudly announce what I’ve accomplished.  After all, I’m a make-a-list and get-things-done kind of person.  I like checkmarks.

But sometimes I sit down to rest in the evening and wonder what I’ve done.  I mean, I’ve been MOVING a lot, I just don’t see much progress.

The fact that I have a 23-month-old son and a 4-year-old daughter is probably explanation enough.  If it’s not, let me tell you about a day I had a few months ago:

The preschooler let the toddler into her room.  He promptly climbed onto the 7-year-old’s dresser and threw a jar of change onto the floor.  Of course the jar smashed, so cleaning up glass and money became a top priority.  Shortly after I finished that chore, the partners in mischief decided to crumble a chocolate chip cookie on the living room rug.  While I was vacuuming and cleaning chocolate off the carpet, they got into the cooler and scattered picnic supplies all over the sunroom.  By noon I managed to get dressed, make lunch, and go to the school to pick up my 11-year-old who had almost fainted because she went to choir before eating lunch.

That night I sat down discouraged.  I hadn’t accomplished anything.

Except…  The kids were still alive.  They were fed and tucked into warm beds.  And the house was still standing.

Those, I decided, were worth 500 checkmarks apiece.  Score!