Kolbe Times, Author at Kolbe Times: Recent Episodes
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Esther Benjamin has experienced a remarkable journey, from her early years growing up in a small village in northern Sri Lanka, to becoming a global executive in the public, private, and civil society sectors for over 25 years. She has led humanitarian programs in many countries around the world. Among other roles, Esther served in President Obama’s administration as Associate Director for Global Operations for the Peace Corps. She oversaw Peace Corps programs in nearly 80 countries.
Esther is currently CEO and Executive Director of World Education Services (WES), a non-profit social enterprise that paves the way for success for refugees, immigrants and international students by advocating for and providing credential evaluation services. Join us for our delightful chat with Esther, as we learn more about her passion to uplift and support individuals as they seek to achieve their goals, by enabling them to learn, work and thrive in new places.
For more information about World Education Services, visit their website:
Transcript of the Interview:
Bill Locke
Esther, welcome to Kolbe Times.
Esther Benjamin
Thank you so much for having me. It’s a pleasure to join you.
Bill Locke
Well, thank you so much. I’ve read about you, and I’ve read about the organization that you’re currently leading – World Education Services – but I don’t really know you at all, so I’m hoping to get to know you. I consider this kind of a sacred opportunity, to learn more not only about you and your work, but the nature of the beast that you’re involved with. Through your organization you’re helping many, many people get what they deserve, I guess you might say, and kind of equalizing opportunities and giving people access. But before we talk about your work, I want to know more about you and your background.
Esther Benjamin
Sure. You know, where we come from often defines the kind of work we end up doing for the rest of our lives, right? And that is certainly the case for me. I was born in northern Sri Lanka, in a village called Murunkan, in a tiny hospital which I’ve visited since. Who knew what my life would hold? My grandfather was a very respected elder in the community, and he was a teacher. He was an educator and he made sure that everyone in our community valued education. And he promoted education to boys and girls alike, and prioritized education for his own children. My parents then would become the first in their generation, to complete secondary school and to go on to get a university education. My mom became a teacher, and my father became a pastor in the Methodist Church in Sri Lanka, and later a United Methodist pastor in the United States. He also became an Old Testament theology professor. He taught world religions and really impressed upon us the importance of understanding across cultures and nationalities and across religions as well. So this kind of upbringing really informed who I became, thereafter. I grew up on the move, and anyone who is the child of a pastor knows that you’re not going to live in any one place for long. So mobility was a big part of my childhood, as we moved from community to community, from church to church, with my father’s work. And the theme of mobility is still a part of my work today. In 1976 we moved to the United States where my father earned his Master’s Degree in Austin, Texas. And as a seven-year-old in Austin, Texas, I learned English for the first time. I remember my first day of school, and being dropped off at school. I think it was only about a month before I became pretty fluent in the language. We then returned back to Sri Lanka, and I went back to school in the Sri Lankan public school system, and then we moved to the capital after there was a cyclone that had destroyed my school in the community where my father was serving. We then moved to yet another community where my father went back to being a part of the faculty of a theological institution. Around then, a civil war broke out. And around that same time, we were starting to think that it would be safer for us to perhaps be overseas. There were threats against the family and especially my father at the start of the Civil War. And that brought us back to the United States in 1982. I was 13 at that time. And this kind of mobility, between countries, between regions, between communities in the same country in Asia, all defined who I became. The family held close to certain values that never changed. The primacy of education, the importance of pursuing opportunities, when so many don’t have a chance to pursue a broad base of opportunities, pursuing education and opportunity with excellence in mind, and with an enterprising spirit; all these were also important for the family. We were a self-reliant family. We made sure that we took care of the family, and make sure that our livelihood was taken care of. And we also believed in going beyond the family, and service was so important to the family. Giving back was an incredible priority for me and the family over time. And those who know me, know that I often say, “To whom much is given, much as expected.” So that’s a little bit about my childhood and adolescence and the moves between countries and regions, which really informed the work that I have continued to do thereafter.
Bill Locke
Here are some keywords in your introduction, Esther: mobility, education, enterprising, and service. Would it be fair to say those are key words for your career, and you might say your ministries; the areas of service that you’ve been involved with?
Esther Benjamin
Absolutely. Service has been central; looking beyond myself to the community, whether that is a local community or the global community. I’ve always believed in going beyond oneself, and really focusing on the improvement of the human condition, the global condition, and making a contribution to society in what we do day in and day out, and year over year.
Bill Locke
So along the way, there must have been some people or some experiences that transformed you, maybe moved you ahead, or brought more focus to you. Can you tell me about any of those?
Esther Benjamin
I worked in Somalia during the humanitarian crisis in 1993 and ’94. That was a pivotal moment in my career, where I saw, right before my eyes, the destruction of civil war once again. I had left Sri Lanka, but certainly the war in Sri Lanka was something that was always on my mind and certainly on the mind of my family – and then to go to Somalia at the start of my career, and to work in the middle of a humanitarian crisis, to work as a United Nations humanitarian officer – all of those were important early experiences. And then in 2007 and 2008, I had the privilege of working on the Obama campaign, and being a part of the historic election of President Obama, and becoming a part of his transition team and then joining the administration, and being appointed by the President to be head of worldwide operations for the United States Peace Corps – that was a key experience in my life. What an honor to serve President Obama. And I also had a chance to work under President Clinton before that. And then in 2013, I moved to South Africa and became the CEO of a university called Monash South Africa, a leading private institution. And I led that institution together with a strong team, and we had about 4,000 students from virtually every country in Africa. That was an incredible experience. I was just back in South Africa two weeks ago, and I continue to stay in touch with my former students. So these were all really important experiences for me; experiences that continued to shape me, experiences that gave me the opportunity to give back – and along the way, there were so many people who influenced who I became. Ambassador James Joseph was US Ambassador to South Africa during the Nelson Mandela administration in the early years of democracy in South Africa. I participated in a number of his fellowship programs, and binational programs between the US and South Africa. He was an incredibly influential figure in my life. There’s a book behind me by Ambassador Joseph, who also happens to be an ordained Baptist minister, who was also a diplomat and a Foundation executive and a corporate leader. The book behind me is a book he wrote called Saved For A Purpose. I worked for a cabinet member, Secretary Alexis Herman, who had a huge influence on me. And then another mentor of mine is Aaron Williams, who was Peace Corps Director under President Obama and has had a long and impressive career journey. I’ve had mentors in the private sector, as well. And there are so many others who have made such a strong impression on me.
Bill Locke
You’re a global citizen, I can see, not only from your work but from having lived and immigrated to different countries to different cultures and worlds. I don’t know a ton about immigration, because I’m a third-generation Canadian. But the people I know who have immigrated, including, for example, my son-in-law, who moved here from Kenya, have had to go through tremendous upheaval. Immigrants, I think, to any new country are going to experience tremendous challenges, not the least of which is to be recognized for what they bring to the country. And not just educational credentials, but to be treated as an equal in a new place. You went through it.
Esther Benjamin
Yes, immigrants face incredible opportunities and also a ton of challenges. It’s been an honour to have a global career. I actually ended up working in over 100 countries over the course of different chapters of my career. And today, there are about 300 million people who live in a country other than where they were born – 300 million people! And that number is only going to keep growing. And it’s going to keep growing because people are going to go to other countries to study; people are going to leave their home countries because of political developments in their country, because of war. People are going to leave their countries because they want to pursue better economic opportunities as well. And I think, new for us and for our children, will be people who move because of challenges related to the environment and climate. So all of these forces will have people on the move, and they will face challenges. We at World Education Services focus on inclusion. And we focus on inclusion from the perspective of educational inclusion, in terms of employment and economic inclusion, and also from the perspective of social inclusion. So at World Education Services – or WES, as we’re known – we work at the intersection of education, and employment, and migration. And that’s the work that I get to do every day. Our vision is that everyone is able to put their education, experience and skills to work anywhere in the world. That’s our broad vision. And our mission, which is more specific, is to help people learn and work and thrive in new places. We also work to make sure that society recognizes the value of people’s education and experience, regardless of where that education was completed, or where that experience was gained. So that is the work that we do every day. And, you know, our values at the organization – I’ve talked about some of my personal values – and at World Education Services, our values are opportunity, and equity, and inclusion. Another value for us is consistent with my own personal values, and that is to be enterprising. The work that we do requires creative approaches, and approaches that we’re revising and adapting all the time to a world that is constantly changing. So to be enterprising is an important value for us. And then we work on education and workforce employment issues. So there’s the level of expertise that we need to maintain, and that is a value as well. WES has been around for 50 years, so we have a strong track record that has been developed over time, and many colleagues before me helped to build a strong organization that is thriving. We also work as a social enterprise, which is a very interesting model. We are a nonprofit organization. However, we do not have donors, we are not funded by government or foundations. There is a service that we provide, and that service, developed over time, is a global credential evaluation service, meaning that you can bring to us any qualification that you may have earned from any educational institution in any country of the world – and we have 50 years of experience in verifying and authenticating that educational qualification. And we are also able to determine the equivalence of that qualification in a Canadian context or in a US context. And this is one of the major contributions of WES. So over the years, we have evaluated credentials from 206 countries and territories, and we’ve worked with about 50,000 educational organizations in all these countries. We have seen just about every kind of qualification, and our staff are even experts at grading scales. You know, we have a specific grading scale in Canada, in the US, and in every country. And so we have to convert units and grades and grade point averages and that’s an expertise we have as well. So our 400 staff who work all over Canada and the United States, and now in India, as well, are experts in educational systems. So that is our credential evaluation work, and we also have a whole range of social impact initiatives. That’s the work I’m doing every day, along with 400 colleagues who are extraordinary, and incredibly dedicated, talented individuals.
Bill Locke
Let’s bring it down to earth. Can you give me an example of an immigrant who needed to get credentialed, or receive recognition for educational background?
Esther Benjamin
Every year, we serve about 500,000 people from all over the world. Let’s take the example of an individual from the Philippines, who has a nursing qualification, and perhaps they have a Bachelor of Science, and they’re also a registered nurse in the Philippines, their country of origin. They may seek to immigrate to Canada to pursue a better job situation for themselves, and to pursue a better economic situation for their families. And they would move to Canada through the Skilled Immigration Program – and there’s also a Federal Skilled Worker Program. They would submit a variety of documents that are necessary for this process, and in that process, they would bring their Bachelor of Science qualification to us. And we would evaluate that qualification; we would be directly in touch with the university from which they earned that degree, and we would verify that they earned that degree from that university and that this individual, in fact, earned that qualification. And we would verify that the transcript that they have shared and the grades that they’ve earned are, in fact, an accurate reflection of what they completed. And this verification and evaluation is used as a part of their transition; their application to immigrate. And if they’re successful in their immigration process, they would arrive in Canada. Oftentimes, these individuals, even though they are registered nurses in the Philippines, would face other barriers. They would need to become licensed registered nurses in the Canadian context and based on their own education and experience, they may need to address any gaps that they may have, in order to take on the roles that they’re trying to take on. They would need to go through a licensing process, and the evaluation report would be a key part of that process. Several years ago, this process sometimes could take up to two or three years. Our service enables individuals to shorten that timeframe and to get to work as soon as possible. So we want to make sure people get credit for their education; that people get recognition for the experience that they bring; and that they are able to get credit for the license that they may have; and that they can get to work and be productively contributing to the country and taking care of their families, once they immigrate.
Bill Locke
This is a very valuable service that WES is providing. I would hazard a guess that there are certain professions or maybe certain jurisdictions where there is resistance to accepting people as professionals; not only education but the licensing. I’ve seen among immigrants from, for example, Nigeria, doctors who have struggled greatly to be recognized in any kind of professional way. They’re essentially having to start all over again, when they want to practice in Canada and face really, I think, difficult stigmas associated with being from that country or from Africa.
Esther Benjamin
That’s absolutely the case. I had a conversation recently with a Nigerian doctor who’s still facing difficulties and is teaching at a medical school but hasn’t been able to practice as a doctor, which she was for many years. So it’s absolutely the case, and there’s so much work to do. And that is why over time, we added other components to the work that we do. For the vast majority of our 50 years of operating, primarily focused on the credential evaluation service, now we are working closely with licensing bodies, we’re working closely with the government itself, we’re working with professional associations. And this is what we call our social impact work. We’re working with nonprofit organizations, we’re working with the settlement sector. So much more work needs to be done to make the transition smoother, and to be able to give people the chance to get back to work where they should be.
Bill Locke
It seems to me that it’s counterproductive in our society to be holding back people who have these valuable assets, and contributions that are needed – like, for example, in the medical and health fields, where we have a worker shortage, where there’s great demand, especially for rural areas, or for some other areas where Canadians might not want to practice.
Esther Benjamin
Huge skill needs. There are thousands and sometimes millions of jobs that remain unfilled. And there’s talent available in Canada and the United States that can take those jobs. But access to these jobs is challenging for newcomers. And that’s where WES finds itself working. So the jobs are there, the talent is there, but the matching often doesn’t happen.
Bill Locke
I wonder what other barriers immigrants have in the transition, aside from these purely kind of professional accreditation kinds of issues. What are some other parallel challenges that you have seen, or WES has seen over the years?
Esther Benjamin
Well, there are some people who face challenges as far as the language. So many of the people who are newcomers do speak English and are fluent, but language barriers certainly exist. And another important barrier that we need to find ways to address is around professional networks. I know that having grown up primarily in North America – and I actually grew up in the US, but so many of my family members were in Canada, so I spent a lot of time between both countries – based on the professional experiences that you and I have had and most of our peers have had, we have access to professional networks that are so key. Newcomers to our countries do not have those professional networks, and we’ve seen a number of programs that are aimed at building professional networks for newcomers and that is an important barrier, and there are important solutions to address that as well. And I think people face barriers such as housing – there’s a huge challenge in Canada at the moment around access to affordable housing that is a major barrier as well. And many people are landing in communities where they may have employment, but they don’t have a family community there; they don’t have an extended community of people from their home countries. So integrating into new communities is also often a challenge.
Bill Locke
We all have to keep our chin up, especially during long, long transition periods such as you’re describing. And speaking of keeping ‘chin up’ – how do you keep your chin up, Esther? You’ve got a daunting job description as leader of WES; how do you nurture inspiration in your own life?
Esther Benjamin
Well, I am surrounded by incredible people who are very optimistic and who see possibilities. I’m surrounded by people who are problem solvers, and just big thinkers, and who are always in search of what we can do to improve things. And, you know, I’ve been raised in this way, and I’ve been surrounded by people who reflect this kind of attitude, asking what can we do to improve conditions? I think I approach every day with a ‘contribution’ mindset. What can I contribute? What can my organization contribute to improve the situation? There is a thinker, a writer, a theologian, named Frederick Buechner, with whom you may be familiar. And Buechner talks a lot about vocation. One of his quotes that I like is “Vocation is the place where our deep gladness meets the world’s deep need.” So to really find where I love working, that also intersects with the great needs of the world. And his advice is around living fully, bravely, and beautifully, which I think is great advice for challenging times, and not-so-challenging times. But based on a life that has had me moving and living fearlessly at times, this is the approach that I take: to be optimistic, to focus on the possibilities, to see the problems, to find the solutions, and to live fully, bravely and beautifully to the extent you can every day.
Bill Locke
Well, that’s a beautiful way to cap off our conversation. Thank you so much for taking time out of your very, very busy schedule, especially with all your travel, Esther.
Esther Benjamin
Thank you so much. Thank you for the chance to chat with you. Thank you for your thoughtful questions, and thanks to the people who might have a chance to listen to this conversation.
The post A Kolbe Times Conversation with Esther Benjamin appeared first on Kolbe Times.
The day after our final child —our oldest son—moved out last November, we went on a short road trip to IKEA and a cemetery. I hoped to replace an accidentally broken glass canister but then I spotted a green floral William-Morris-like coverlet and I remembered something I’d read that flipped the idea of the empty nest, suggesting when the kids did move out, it was an opportunity for refeathering the nest. So the bedspread came to the checkout with us.
I wanted to visit the cemetery because one of my ancestors was buried there. My mother had long said that when I reached A Certain Age, I too would develop an interest in genealogy. It turned out she was both right and wrong. In me—a novelist—the interest has turned quite specific and it has turned to this ancestor who died prematurely exactly a hundred years ago, and his father whose profound grief shaped generations of my family. I read Carl Jung who said his work was to do the work left undone by his ancestors. That is how it feels as I write a novel based on their lives.
In the book I’m writing, I play with the facts but not with the truth. But the day after our own oldest son moved out, I wanted to visit this cemetery.
Three days post-partum with that son, as my milk came in, I cried and said a line I would later bequeath to a character in another novel: someday he’s going to grow up and leave us. At the very start, that grief, that homesickness, was baked in. It took more than a quarter-century for the day to come—an unseasonably warm November day with thin sunlight and strong winds—but it had come.
Those strong winds found us on the top of a hilly cemetery, with a harbour visible on one side of us and a bay on the other. I knew the bay well: when I was a child, my family was evacuated to this city after a dangerous train derailment in our own city, the largest peacetime evacuation in North America before Hurricane Katrina. The anxiety of this evacuation was compounded by the fact that my mother was fully pregnant with my brother, and that a few years before, my healthy sister had been stillborn after complications during delivery. We walked that bay the November we were evacuated, while my mother made regular visits to the hospital to check in. My brother would be safely delivered a day or two after we returned home.
My mother had once visited this grave with her father. She recalled a gravestone of a small lamb and lettering worn down over the years. The Internet told us the section of the cemetery in which he was buried. And so under the strong winds and thin sunlight, my husband and I searched every lamb, looking for the one that had gone astray. We looked again, including parting branches of a bush that had grown around one such grave. I realized I wasn’t leaving until we found it. My husband fortunately broadened his search to grave markers that weren’t lambs, calling me over when he found the grave: a marble cube with an open book on top, and the words ‘Beloved Son’ inscribed below his name. My husband slipped away, then, to the car, allowing me time alone. I took pictures and took in the facts of the grave, the location and the views, but it wasn’t like visiting the grave of someone I’ve loved, and my book and my work isn’t about the son but the father. In my book, the son is a kind of cipher. As I’ve written it the story of Abraham and the near-sacrifice of Isaac keeps coming to mind. Because how does a parent let his beloved son go into the will of God? Because it is not a lamb provided instead when Abraham’s hand is stayed, but a ram.
So my son is going off into the world, having forgotten to be vaccinated against diseases endemic to the place he would be visiting, not polio but other diseases that shouldn’t but could end up with a grave marker and a grieving parent.
There’s an old proverb that a parent gives a child two things: roots and wings. I read that before I had kids and I believed it to be deeply true. I still believe it. I believe we have given that to our own kids. I also believe it’s what I was instinctively reaching for myself that windy day: the pilgrimage to the cemetery and the visit to IKEA. The walking and bending and feeling the wind provided a knowing in my body of where my people came from and were rooted, and the trip to IKEA, the refeathering the nest, was not as frivolous as it might seem. It was the wings. It was the ram in the thicket. It was the looking forward with hope to a future beyond one where children lived at home, to one where flowers climbed across our bed at night and perhaps even into our dreams of new life blossoming in November.
Susan Fish
Waterloo, Ontario
Author of Renaissance (Paraclete Press, 2023)
Turn of Events; Turn of a Life
When I was in elementary school I wanted to be a cabinet maker so, after grade 8, I went to a technical school in Toronto. Our teacher had about fifteen students and he couldn’t give each one of us a great deal of attention. He had to split his time between each student, so learning the trade in school was slow.
I saw an ad in the Toronto Star. A cabinet-making company was looking for apprentices. I made an appointment to see the resource person.
The interviewer and I spent some time talking about the possibilities and expectations of the apprenticeship. Eventually, the personnel rep said, “We don’t have a job for you.” I told him that didn’t make sense to me. I said, “You have an ad indicating you have a need for apprentices and I’m offering myself, and now you say you don’t have a job for me.” He said, “That’s right.”
I asked, “Does that mean you don’t have a job for me, or for anyone?” He said, “We don’t have a job for you.” “Why do you say that?” I asked. He paused and said, “Because I think you should go back to school.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked. He replied, “Ed, there comes a time when other people see more in you than you see in yourself. I think you should go to an academic school.” He was a wisdom person in my life.
I went to talk it over with the principal at St. Michael’s College School in Toronto. I told him about my background, and that I didn’t think I could do the academic work at St. Michael’s. He said, “Ed, you will never know unless you try. We have room for you; it’s there if you want to come.”
“I’ll take it,” I replied.
At the end of that school year, I decided to look into attending the Order of Franciscan Friars Conventual’s seminary. I received notice that I was accepted.
After ordination, my Provincial Superior mentioned that I was to become a teacher. I tried to get out of that assignment but to no avail.
I went to St. Pat’s College in Ottawa and told the registrar that I had no idea of the expectations, the necessary courses, or the requirements in order to become a teacher.
The Franciscan seminary did not grant degrees. The registrar understood that and started asking me questions. I wondered where he was going with all those questions. I told him I didn’t want to be a teacher. “I’m here out of obedience,” I said.
After a while, the registrar said that he had enough information, and then said, “By the way, you are going to be studying here.”
Then he said, “This is what you are going to do. You will be majoring in English, and your focus is going to be Shakespeare. You will be majoring in history. You are going to do all that work in two years, not three. You will be graduating with a double major.”
I looked at him and said, “I don’t even want to be here. Why did you say I would do all that work in two years and not three?” He looked at me and said, “There comes a time when other people see more in you than you see in yourself.”
The registrar was another wisdom person in my life.
I graduated with a double major. Besides the two wisdom people in my life, the English major was a remarkable gift.
My parents came to Canada from Malta. When we were at home we spoke Maltese. When I went to grade one I could not speak English, so I failed grade one…and to think that I graduated with a major in English is really quite a joy and a highlight in my life.
It all came about because I listened to two wisdom people. Since then, I have been on the alert for wisdom people, and there have been others.
Friar Edward Debono, OFM Conv.
Kingston, Ontario
Treetops
The fireflies that I remember are few now.
The summers that I remember are gone now.
The people that I remember are no longer on the couch,
at the table on the porch, or in their chairs on the treehouse.
But I remember all of it and both of them.
And all of us there.
The homestead is still standing.
‘Treetops’ in wrought iron is still in the stone above the mantle.
The hearth and heart of memory still glows and glows.
The things that kept me steady still matter
Although I can’t see them.
But I remember them.
And I understand why those people matter, how they loved us matters,
and while the homestead is still standing, why I am still steady.
This house was a home, and now in its stead is a place to return and to remember.
Every time I come back,
There is a new memory.
Love is in the trees, in the rooms,
in the sunshine on the porch around the soft chairs where they sat,
where they held all of us in their arms, and now in eternal embrace.
The things that kept me steady still matter.
The homestead is still standing.
Skye Fackre Gibson
Boston, Massachusetts
I learned that all the distress I survived in 77 years was wiped clear when my need for a safe, healthy, affordable home was realized. Our provincial government believes citizens should pay a rent 1/3 of their income. I moved from $1200 to $900 rent and became able to fix my teeth and my car.
Hello, long-time Steve Bell fan Leila Ward here, born in Winnipeg 1946, began to teach elementary, then followed husband to Powell River, then West Vancouver, then divorce with a toddler to do life with. I met a gent from Monkton, Ontario and we moved to Mission Abbotsford, me teaching, he building and repairing. Second daughter inspired us to move to Cherryville, me teaching nonstop. Final move to Vernon, where I have been single since 1992. Two successful daughters, and the younger one bore me two delightful grandsons. Thrilled to have full-time air-conditioning, and to be safe indoors through smoke and heat.
As part of a very talented art group, I can put four paintings in the show; oh joy!
Leila Ward
Vernon, B.C.
Why Go Anywhere?
I’m just back in my hotel room after an afternoon bike tour of Hidden Graffiti & Urban Art with Patricio, an affable and informative guide with Biking Buenos Aires. Last week I was in Rome with a delegation of eight other Canadian members of CNWE, the Catholic Network for Women’s Equality. We were advocating for gender equity as the Roman Catholic Synod Assembly was getting underway.
My first of many visits to France was 51 years ago. International travel has been a priority for me, my spouse, and our family as we raised our two children. I was fortunate to have had a good-paying job and flexibility in my work commitments. Over the years we have enjoyed the privilege of visiting friends and family in places like London, or Dar es Salaam, or Jakarta. Occasionally I was able to combine travel with work.
Tiger Market, Argentina
These days the question arising with greater frequency and insistence for me is “Why go anywhere?”
Is it time now to make a choice to stop completely this kind of travel I’ve grown accustomed to—before I am no longer able-bodied or mentally sound enough to make these journeys?
There are reasons to stop — creeping health and especially mobility issues, decreasing energy and levels of tolerance for the inconveniences, the work, the risks, the expense and the environmental consequences, my eco-foot-sprints, large and small.
There are as many rationalizations for continuing to go — visiting friends and family while I still have some, more work, a sense of mission or adventure, a need to demonstrate and share travel expertise and knowledge, or simply to drink coffee and eat a pastry in a cafe other than the one I frequent in my own city.
Has the time come for me to make this transition? Is it possible to enjoy contentedly my own neighbourhoods and my pedestrian habits, daily rituals and routines? Perhaps. My ambivalence about making such a deliberate choice remains. Can I make this journey?
Sun Dial, Lethbridge, Alberta
Vincent Hanlon
Lethbridge, Alta.
Leaving Home & Returning Home
My husband and I, married 27 years this August, and parents to three young adults, have often jokingly said that “the kids might not be ready to leave home, but we are!”
Like many Gen Xers, our parenting philosophy and practice was rather high-intensity. In our case, this didn’t mean lots of expensive, structured activities for our children, or helicoptering at their school. What it did mean was homeschooling our children for their K-12 education. An endeavour requiring a high emotional and energetic investment into all aspects of their growth and development. To say nothing of the opportunity cost of foregoing a dual-income household to have one parent, myself, primarily responsible to oversee the kids’ education and our household management.
This might help explain why, by the time our three kids were starting their post-secondary educations, we were ready to leave home, even if they weren’t!
Joking aside, we had invested the proverbial blood, sweat, and tears, in addition to my own career-building twenties and thirties, to raise and educate these children. I was tired at the end of that journey. And our kids were also ready for some distance from us having spent significantly more time with their homeschooling mom and work-at-home dad than the average North American child spends with their parents. We were all yearning for some freedom. However, for the sound economic reason of not acquiring student debt, our young adult children have lived at home with us, a three-bedroom, one-bath apartment in Montreal, for their university and college studies. Two of those kids still live at home, while their graduated and gainfully employed brother flew the coup last summer, giving all of us a little more breathing room.
Although my husband and I were just joking about leaving home (I think), I didn’t anticipate the prophetic nature of our humor.
Next spring, we will be leaving the apartment and the city our family has called home for nearly a decade. And our children will stay.
As already mentioned, the “children” are young adults. They are going to school, working, and establishing careers and relationships. Their life is here.
Why would they leave? Why would we?
The only thing, or rather the only relationship that would move me from my kids is another familial tie, the connection to my parents.
How our family of five ended up in Montreal is too long of a story for this piece. Suffice to say, we moved here with the expectation that we would live here for a season of our lives and not necessarily as a permanent landing place. My husband’s location-independent work, which was a goal for his career and our family life, has given us the freedom to live in a variety of regions and locales.
Having not rooted ourselves to a particular place, we became rooted to our family relationships. Although we haven’t lived in the same province (and sometimes not even the same country) as my parents since my husband and I “left home” early in our marriage, we have kept close ties with them through two decades across the distance.
I knew that as my parents reached old age I wanted to live in close proximity to them. In the same way that I didn’t want to institutionalize the care and education of my children, I couldn’t imagine institutionalizing the care of my elderly parents. If one day they needed someone’s help with daily life I wanted that someone to be me.
As our kids’ reached the age of majority and early adulthood, my husband and I talked about our options. Although it’s a good city for our kids’ educational and career opportunities, the two of us didn’t want to remain in Montreal indefinitely. So where might we move? And how would my desire to share in my parent’s old age fit into that picture?
Many conversations between the two of us, where we compared and contrasted the different visions of our future and our family’s future, helped us arrive at an answer. My parents have a more established community life and investment of material assets where they’ve lived for the last 16 years on Nova Scotia’s South Shore. And there’s much we appreciate about Nova Scotia. We would move there.
Years ago already, I had communicated to my parents my desire to care for them in their old age. But that need was a long way off and so too were the details.
After my husband and I came to our decision to move to Nova Scotia the specifics could take shape. A phone call was made to my parents in spring 2021 and a plan materialized, the generosity of which I had not imagined, though it is in keeping with my parents’ character.
My parents would divide their property. We would be gifted with their current home, built by my dad 13 years ago. My dad, now in his late 60s and still working as an artisan home builder, would construct a new age-in-place home for he and my mom, across the driveway from the original house. Physically hale, resourced, and eagerly anticipating their only daughter living next door after more than two decades of long distances, my parents got busy. Which is their modus operandi. Latent desires and hopes, intentions and plans were literally being built into reality.
We can’t leave the city until my in-person coursework is completed for my Masters degree program here in Montreal. Also, we didn’t want to move until our youngest was well-established in her undergraduate degree. There wasn’t a rush. Houses take effort (and money!) to build, and we wanted time for the kids to adjust to the transition of their parents leaving home. This was an “eventually” move.
Even so, building the new house proceeded apace of Dad’s other projects, which is to say, fast. And once vision starts to become reality the course is set, like boarding a train to a much-anticipated destination.
The house will be done by Christmas of this year. And sometime in spring, three years after that initial phone call, we’ll be leaving our home in Montreal to move, quite literally, to my parent’s home.
Seventy years of age this summer, my mom and dad are in great health and still working in their vocations as homemaker and house builder, respectively. I am anticipating the many years we’ll have together, God willing, before any intensive care and management needs begin. Nothing is guaranteed and sharing day-to-day life with them after so many years apart is nothing short of a gift. I can’t know what the future will bring for our children and where they will make their homes. They know they are always welcome out east!
Transitions are often periods of loss and gain, which is especially true in this move. As my husband and I leave our Montreal home we will lose sharing daily life with our children and live many miles away. Usually, it’s the kids that leave. Enacting the inverse is a nuanced grief. Conversely, we will gain the opportunity to live in a beautiful home and share daily life with my parents, an incredible gift.
As we count down the months on our move we find ourselves navigating the bittersweet terrain of leaving the generation we raised, to return to the generation that raised us. A unique transition where leaving home is returning home.
Renee Tougas
Montreal, Quebec
Renee.tougas.net
“Old age isn’t so bad when you consider the alternative.” (attributed to many people, including Maurice Chevalier when he was 71 years old)
On Sunday, October 8, 2023, I turned 75 years old. I’d like to think that I’ll “rage, rage, against the dying of the light,” as Dylan Thomas recommended. He solved the problem of growing old by dying at 39 years old.
My grandfather had a stroke and suffered partial paralysis on one side. Once, when he was complaining to his older brother, then in his late seventies, Uncle Herman said, “Stop pitying yourself; if you can’t mow the lawn by pushing with two hands, push the mower with one.” Self-pity apparently defeated the advice.
A wonderful waterfowler known to me as Dom suffered a stroke in his sixties which left his right hand pretty useless. One morning I encountered him shortly after dawn lugging a huge goose to his car parked on the farm road. I asked him how hunting was going. Dom said, “Well, I had to learn to shoot left-handed and I try to get out here before dawn and so far have shot twenty-one geese this year.”
My dad began having occasional falls in his eighties. He complained that he couldn’t trap muskrats anymore, but just had to ‘go along.’ He learned to eat awkwardly by propping one hand under the other arm. My children quipped, “Of course it’s hard for Grandpa: he was forty years old from forty to eighty.”
I’ll admit that my transition to ancient did leave me able to go hunting with a friend and his daughter last week. We shot seven ducks. But I was laid up the next day due to pain from my disintegrating neck vertebrae. I think I have things figured out: if I use my right arm sparingly I can do some work one out of two days as long as I am able to stand the pain the evening after working.
My advice is simple: “Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them. . . .” (Ecclesiastes 12:1) Youth, though, is a relative thing. The fact is that I can still play piano for church services—and a little jazz—and write non-fiction (the poetry muse left me after two books). I can still cajole children into helping me with my garden and farm and can enjoy listening to the squeaking as my four cows twist and yank the leaves from the grass. I can still enjoy singing with my friends in the nursing home once a week. I still “Enjoy the wife you married as a young man!” (Proverbs 5:18, The Message).
But there isn’t anything especially noble in incapacity, impotence, weakness and memory loss. It isn’t just “the alternative” that makes life worth living but knowing that, regardless of dietary restrictions and all sorts of other limitations, I may experience youth, not absolute, but partial youth, and hope to enjoy it in the presence of God until “the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern (Ecclesiastes 12: 6).”
And so I go along
savouring my moments of youth,
while slip-sliding away,
with hesitant hope and a certain hesitancy,
expecting dust,
the dust of an old tome,
and seeing my new-old name written there.
Curt Gesch
Quick, B.C.
Moving “Church”
“A church is not a building, a church is not a steeple, a church is not a resting place, a church is a people!” (Marsh and Avery). I used to sing this tune in the United Church youth choir. Dedicated to the song and prayer of Sunday worship and ginger snap cookies afterward, my teenaged-self relished various services in several different churches. I asked questions all the way to an eventual conversion to Catholicism, a religion my parents denounced. At age sixty-two, I am now a Roman Catholic Woman Priest (with RCWP Canada). I’ve been ordained a priest for just over a year and serve a small but vibrant inclusive community: Lethbridge Inclusive Catholic Community Fellowship (LICCF.ca). Transitioning from one denomination to another and then decades later, into a state of automatic excommunication has been a surprising, painful, but freeing transition.
I married a Catholic at age nineteen, and well into my twenties I continued to search for an answer to the rather needy prayer I had sent forth as a seventeen-year-old in college–a cry for a church, somewhere to belong. That answer came in the example of a plant’s life. I received it that year, frost-bitten, from the trunk of a friend’s car, transported from my hometown in January. It healed up and grew green and waxy leaves when I attended the Catholic church with my husband in Edmonton. It was so sticky with insects when I returned from two years in Montreal (where I had stopped going to French Mass with our embarrassingly talkative English-speaking one-year-old). I left the diseased little tree outside the house we rented back in Alberta. My uncle suggested I wipe it down with sudsy water and put it back indoors where it belonged.
That year I was moved by the singing and preaching of a Redemptorist mission team led by a family friend (hence my attendance). So moved by their song and spoken word, I tried out, the following Sunday, one sad soulless Mass of white-haired heads at the small parish nearby. However, several months later we moved up to Ft. McMurray where the average age was nineteen, and I, with my two noisy, active toddlers, fit right in.
Six years later I sat down to write to my godmother to tell her I was going to become a Catholic. Except that I wasn’t convinced of my news that I would be confirmed Catholic, having been raised an anti-Catholic. I prayed for a sign. My eye was drawn to the huge healthy ‘tree’ in my living room – her gift to me when I was in college more than a decade earlier! The plant told the story of my waxing and waning faith practice and in response to my query “Is this the church?” shouted out YES! with its lush leaves and a sturdy trunk. I quickly wrote up this story and sent it along to my godmother with a shot from our instant Polaroid labeled “Do you remember this plant?”
Fast forward after thirty-some years of dedicated service to St. Martha’s parish in Lethbridge, Alberta, where I catechized and organized, accompanied choirs on piano and led the singing at daily mass, said healing prayers and facilitated Bible studies, trained as a spiritual director, organized and led a ten-year bereavement program, all while finishing a Master’s degree in Sociology and a Doctor of Ministry degree, both qualitative research projects.
Just as powerful as my potted umbrella tree “YES!” was, thirty years later were the insistent multiple signs for me to be ordained. Their message was hard to accept. It is true that I was uncomfortable with the exclusive language and the conservative theology of foreign priests imported to Canada. However, the many signs in several forms that affirmed me as a woman called to ordination were not about inclusion, but excommunication. And there were many.
There were scriptures (including the man who stretches out his withered hand to Jesus, before the hard stares of condemning elders), comments of parishioners (“I see Jesus in your eyes”; “You are very good at the altar”), and most dramatic, my shaking body when I unwittingly embraced an ordained Catholic woman in Ireland (to thank her for a music concert she gave to conference attendees). The body shakes or trembles when it identifies with or recognizes itself in another, whether that other is the indigenous land of one’s being (as one Métis land acknowledgement instructor shared), or a name (I shook one other time at a Joan of Arc movie decades ago – my middle name being Joan). And there was more. At a favorite retreat house, I bumped into articles, novels, and chapters in books (“Embertide”) all suggesting ordination. I fell headlong into poems about change (“No, I’d Never Been To This Country” by Mary Oliver), blessings from John O’Donohue’s “For A New Beginning”—’don’t look back’ and ‘learn to find ease with risk’ as well as a blessing “For the Priesthood.” Listen for Joy art cards by Melanie Weidner came up as “surrender” (a fallen leaf image) and “Yes chicken” (a Golden brown chicken with a “yes” balloon). I was invited to sing the priest’s parts in a Good Friday celebration. There was no doubt about this call, but how could I no longer love and serve within my church community?
Nothing about Anglican or Lutheran ordination resonated for me, either. I identified as Catholic and I remain so, but answering this call meant rejection. The male, patriarchal hierarchy deems my experience of Christ’s love and call to serve as priest unbelievable, a crime.
Baptism
My eventual “yes” however, freed me from unjust laws and constricting institutional rules of liturgy. We women priests are ruled by collegiality and are free to move absolutely into values of inclusivity, accountability, equality, justice and prophetic obedience (listening for direction from the Spirit and the gospels). Our movement is eucharistic and sacramental. Worship is based on the earliest house churches documented by Paul’s writings where he names Phoebe, Prisca, Junia, Apphia, Lydia, Nympha, Euodia, and Syntyche – and many unnamed women – along with later house churches of Akeptous of Megiddo, Israel (see YouTube video) and the communities of bishops like Cerula, from the San Gennaro catacombs. We have renewed the liturgy to be inclusive. Our tables (not altars) around the world are open to all for communion. Our leadership celebrates and accepts 2SLGBTQ+ folks in everything in every way. As Vatican II recommends, we watch for the “signs of the times” and lean in.
Transition for me most recently has meant moving from church architecture to our living room or the theatre gallery at the public library. We might celebrate with a guided forest walk, a labyrinth liturgy, or learning and listening alongside the water, respecting Indigenous wisdom. We sing and pray with inclusive language and sit in a circle. Everyone has a chance to speak at homily time. I wear a priestly stole and share such authority at communion time by placing this symbol on the Eucharistic table. We can laugh out loud and dance. We value stillness and sit contemplatively. Zoom liturgies bring together people from everywhere. I am not clerical, but a servant leader. This church is not a thick-walled building; this church is a flesh-and-blood people responding to Spirit. For anyone praying for a church, we welcome you. Welcome.
Teresa Elder Hanlon
Lethbridge County, Alta.
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Garth Johnson is the co-founder and CEO of Meticulon Consulting, a not-for-profit enterprise in Canada that deploys the unique abilities of people with Autism Spectrum Disorder in meaningful employment. Learn more about how Meticulon has been life-changing for many individuals and their families. Continue reading →
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Dr. Yvonne Kangong, MD
Dr Yvonne Kangong is a popular keynote speaker, mentor, advocate, and community builder in Calgary, Alberta, where she also practices Family and Obesity Medicine at SaddleTowne Medical Clinic. She holds a Master’s Degree in Public Health, and is also the author of the book What’s Obesity Got To Do With It? (2022).
As well, Dr. Kangong is a clinical lecturer with the Cummings School of Medicine, University of Calgary and received a teaching award in 2019, as well as a number of other community awards. She is the founder of Breakers Health, a medical consultancy, weight management and public speaking company. Dr. Kangong is also the Medical Director of the Mosaic Primary Care Network in Calgary, and is on the advisory board of the Canadian Collaborative Research Network (CCRN). In addition, she is co-owner with her husband of the KFS BBQ Smokehouse & Meat Market in Calgary. She and her husband have three children.
Dr. Kangong is a shining, bright light in her community and her church, and she loves to volunteer. She has a gift for seeing the potential in everyone, bringing hope and laughter to those around her. It’s no surprise that she earned the name ‘Giggles’ at one point! The story of her remarkable journey thus far is inspiring, to say the least. We’re very excited to share our conversation with this delightful and very dedicated woman.
22 minutes
Transcript of the interview:
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
My prayer every day is Lord, You helped me to be a doctor, but above all, You are the mighty healer. Help me heal people. Let it be through You, by Your Spirit, by Your power. Either by my words, my actions, or just my smile – let me bring some hope.
Bill Locke
This issue we’re very fortunate to have Dr. Yvonne Kangong, a respected physician, mentor, advocate, life coach, churchgoer, community builder, and mother of three. Besides teaching at the University of Calgary Medical School, she is the Medical Director of the Mosaic Primary Care Network. She is also an advisor for medical research, and the owner, with her husband, of a barbecue smokehouse. Most recently, she’s written a book: “What’s Obesity Got To Do With It?” Yvonne, I’ve been looking forward to getting to know you since we met you at a lovely event a couple of weeks ago, in Calgary.
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
Yes, I’ve been looking forward to it, too.
Bill Locke
I wanted to find out a little bit about your background, your family, and a little profile for those who don’t know you.
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
Yes, I am Yvonne Kangong, married to Mr. Wilfred Kangong, and mother of three amazing kids – Elizabeth, Solomon, and Arielle. I am a Christian. My husband’s father was a pastor. My grandfather was a Presbyterian pastor. My daddy and my mom used to sing in the choir. So I grew up in a Christian home. So to me, faith is very important. And we are raising our kids in the same way, following the Lord because you can never go wrong with that. And I was so blessed to be married to my husband, whose family is also Christian.
Bill Locke
Tell me a little bit about your training and how you got here.
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
Originally I came from western Africa. At the age of 11, I felt led. I knew that I was going to be a doctor. I didn’t know how. I was still in Cameroon, where we had a neighbor who was a gynecologist, and I used to sneak by his clinic to see what he was doing. And one day, I was caught by the people working there, peeping through the holes while he was doing some exams, and I got a big crack on my head. I will never forget that. And so he saw that. And he called – he told them don’t do that. So he came to me and he said, “So tell me why are you so interested in what’s happening here in this clinic.” I told him, “I want to be a doctor, like you.” You know, his name was the late Dr. Biaca, may he rest in peace. He really inspired me. And fast forward, I went to do Microbiology in Nigeria, at Abubakar Tafawa Balewa University – that’s way in the north. And during my holidays, when I came home, I would go to his clinic. He had a laboratory, and so since he knew I was interested, he’d let me work with the people in the lab. And so he just helped, you know, develop that interest. And my mom was also a midwife and a nurse. And so she kept saying, you know, I think you will be good for medicine. I think you like it. So she really supported me also. So then I graduated from Nigeria, went to St. Lucia, and in this way, I did my medical school. And later on came to Calgary where I did my residency in family medicine at the University of Calgary. And in between that period, I also got to do my Master’s in Public Health from Lakehead University, and that was online. So in between all that time, I met my husband, we had kids, and I started working at Alberta Children’s Hospital as a research coordinator. And how did I get to this position? I started volunteering. So I always tell people, it’s good to volunteer because you never know who’s watching you. I volunteered at the Alberta Children’s Hospital Emergency for research projects. And someone just asked me one day, “What’s your background?” So I told him, and he said, “Okay, send me your CV.” So I sent my CV, and fast forward, when it was time to apply for residency, I started in the exams. When I took the exam the first time, I failed. I told my husband, “Oh, I’m done with all this.” And he said, “No, no, no, no, no, you didn’t come this far to stop.” We were also getting ready to move to South Africa because it was so hard to get into Canada and the Canadian system. And so we went to church one day – we were going to St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church here in Calgary – and I’ll never forget this: the congregants came to us, and said to us, “We’re praying for you people. You will stay in Canada and God will open doors for you.” And I looked at my husband, and we said, “Okay, God, what are you trying to tell us?” And so we kept on going, kept on trusting God, you know, kept on working hard. And at some point, I had to leave Calgary – leaving my kids at home and my husband and the nanny – to go all around Canada to get Canadian experience for almost a year and a half. Those were really difficult times. But I did it, because God was with me, and God was with my family and kept us all going. So I graduated from the University of Calgary, with the help of my preceptor, Dr. Rod Crutcher, who also happened to be a Christian. Oh my, God will align the places and people to inspire you and guide your path. So he was my residency preceptor, and as he was a Christian, there were times that I would come looking so devastated with the stress of residency, and he would call me into the room and say, “We gotta pray.” So God lined Christians along my path until today, and he is still my mentor. I will still always reach out to him, you know. So I graduated from the University of Calgary, and he was retiring. He said, “I think you’d be a good fit to take over my role here, to continue training residents. And I was like, “Who, me? How?” And he said, like, “Yes, you. I think you can do it!” So I graduated in June. By July, I was a preceptor clinical lecturer at the University. So if not for God, where would I have been? So then after that, I continued in the community, working as a family doctor and then a position came from the Mosaic Primary Care Network Board of Directors. So, for a Primary Care Network, the government gives money to community physicians based on the number of patients, to take care of the needs of those patients. That might be a mental health doctor, or a dietitian, or perhaps a kinesiologist. And so they have a board, like a nonprofit, and I was on the board. And after being on the board for a while, I became the Assistant Medical Director, and now I’m the Medical Director. And so we have 370 doctors.
Bill Locke
Did I hear you say 370 doctors?
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
Yes. We have 370 doctors that are part of that Primary Care Network. And we have about 170 other staff, namely nurses, medical office assistants, pharmacists, all of that – we work together to provide for the needs of our patient population. And I only look back and I say, “It’s only God, because I couldn’t do it on my own.” I had long gaps in my resume. And when I went for residency interviews, they sometimes asked, “Where have you been all these years?” I told them, I worked in call centers, I worked in factories. And I was grateful to God that I was fertile, and I made babies during that time. And I think for me, those were the “icebreakers” during those interviews. So here am I, just me, a little girl from Cameroon, a lover of God, who has taken me to places I never could have imagined.
Bill Locke
So you’ve gone from Cameroon, not even knowing if you could get into any kind of professional opportunity, to now being a medical director of a pretty big medical initiative, teaching medicine, right? You’ve also raised a family, or are raising a family – and written a book, which we’re going to talk about, and you’ve even started a barbecue business.
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
(Laughs) My husband is the brains behind the barbecue business!
Bill Locke
In all these situations that you’re talking about, you had a plan, but you weren’t sure if your plan would come through – and then other times, you didn’t really have a plan for something to happen, but yet, you somehow discerned God’s will, for yourself, for your family. How do you do that, Yvonne?
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
Prayers, meditation, and I’m blessed to have a wonderful husband, God-fearing; Wilfred is his name. When my feet get shaken, he holds me and says, “Hey, listen, let’s take a journey back. Let’s look back at where we were before. Look at where we are today! If not for God, where would we have been?” And that’s when I say, “Oh, yeah, if He did it then, He will do it now.” So I always say you need that community of faith; people that will hold you when you’re falling, because you can’t do it on your own. Right? Yes, we know we’re Christian, and there’s a Bible. But sometimes we look back and complain, “Why me? Why me?” So I’ve got to instead say, “Why NOT me?” Even Job, the follower of God, had the worst things happen. Every time I read the Book of Job, I say, “Wow, would I have kept on following God, if that was me?” You know what I mean? Everything that he went through! So every time when I feel like I’m getting overwhelmed, and I am asking the question, “Why me?” – I say instead, “Why not me? If Job could still say, ‘God, I’ll keep on following you.’ I haven’t even seen one-tenth of what he went through! Why not me?”
Bill Locke
I understand you’ve written a book about obesity. And I wonder why would you write about obesity, and what is the purpose of this book, Yvonne?
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
You know, the purpose of this book is to shed a light on the stigma and bias faced by people with obesity. Growing up in Cameroon, I saw that people with obesity were called names, like “fat”; or “chubby”. And people always thought that people with obesity are lazy; all they do is eat, eat, eat, sit. And I did have a patient at some point who passed away because she had obesity. She had some other medical conditions, but everyone blamed it on her weight. So that was an eye-opener for me when that happened. I said to myself, “I need to do something. I need to do something because that could have been preventable.” And so during the pandemic, I also changed my lifestyle. I had gained some weight. And then during the pandemic, I said to myself, “Well, I have a lot of time right now working from home. Let me try and see what I can do, you know, to better my life. And I can also share that with my patients.” So I took some time and I did the American Board of Obesity Medicine diplomate. I passed that exam, and I said, “With all the knowledge that I’ve learned, let me write a book.” And that’s how this book came about. So it talks about my own struggles with obesity, like any other woman out there whereby you have kids, you get pregnant, you gain weight, and you find it hard to lose. And just when you think you’re done losing that weight, you get pregnant again! It’s like a cycle. You wake up in the morning and you look at yourself in the mirror and you go, “Oh, now what happened? Nothing fits!” So the way the book starts is – it’s pretty interesting – it starts like this: (reads aloud) “It’s Friday, what a difficult week it’s been, juggling work, family, driving kids to sports activities, creating time for self-care. Time to take a break. But first, what am I going to wear? I looked around the closet, my jeans didn’t fit. What happened here? Does this sound familiar?” That’s the story of most women out there. And also there are some men who also have had different challenges in their life. So I talk about the causes of obesity, what we can do as a whole, what policymakers can do as a whole, treatments out there, and genetic causes of obesity, and all the other medications out there – just some evidence-based research for the nerdy people. And thirty tips to a healthier you – just little things that you can do, one day at a time, to move towards your health goal.
Bill Locke
It seems to me that part of this is about good medical advice, or good healthy common sense types of things, but it’s also about inspiring patients, encouraging them to not give up, to persist; if they fall to pick themselves up because we’re bound to lose weight and then put it on again. There’s a psychology – maybe even a spirituality – to this because we look to God for all things. And who knows, maybe if we pray for our health or others pray for our health, God can help us deal with that, too.
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
Exactly. You know, one thing that I also emphasize in the book is that there’s also science behind weight gain. It’s not only willpower, right? Because sometimes people say, “Oh, if I could just eat less!” There’s always this idea of “eat less, move more”. It’s time to put an end to that. Because lifestyle changes account for about five to 10% of weight loss. But then there is genetics. If you have two parents with obesity, you have about 70 to 80% chance that you also will have obesity. So there are so many odds against us. Sometimes certain medications people take – even blood pressure medications, birth control pills, and medications for depression and anxiety – there are so many different medications that can lead to weight gain. So it’s a whole comprehensive approach that I take in my practice, where I look at behavior, physical activity, medical nutrition therapy, then there’s medication, and there’s also bariatric surgery. So I tell people, it doesn’t make you weak, to get to that point where you might say, “You know what, I need this help.”
Bill Locke
You are talking about men and women, but I know women are important to you, because you spoke at a wonderful event recently which was honoring women, calling them “Women of Distinction”, in which you recognized those many women who were given the award. Why do you think it’s important to do something like that?
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
You know, I think I like people to see where I’ve been. To see that if I can stand here today, so can you. Because as women, we have so many challenges. When we go to bed, we’re already thinking about the next day. What are we going to eat? What are we going to do? Or, this child has this, and this other child has this. Not that daddies don’t do that. No, daddies do that too. But we’re just wired to think way further. And so if another woman sees me standing there, and giving them hope, I just think it’s so important. And the African proverb that says, “It takes a village to raise a child” – it can also be a group of women to inspire younger girls.
Bill Locke
That’s something we don’t see in Canada as much I think, as in some countries, like maybe rural Cameroon. I think women there are probably much more connected, as a community, than women here in Canada or the US.
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
Exactly. But I think, as time goes on, with communities coming together, I think it’s getting a little bit better. Right? It takes all of us to join our heads together. I think what I find here is that people are often associated with a certain group. So if they’re in one part of the church, they have their own network, just like any other organization.
Bill Locke
Tell me how your spirit, your soul, is nourished and given hope.
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
When I wake up every day, my friends always laugh at me. I send them a message. When I wake up in the morning, I want the devil to say, “Oh, no! Why did she get up today?” Because I have to call on the name of the Lord. So I always am sending them a text in the morning, like: “Hey, brother, sisters, I can see the devil hitting his head and saying, “Oh, no! Why is she up today?” Because I am going to rebuke the devil, and I’m going to call on the Lord to guide me through this day. And I encourage everyone to do the same, because it gives you so much strength; it gives you so much hope. I’m here today because of all the love God has for me. It gives me peace. It gives me joy. You know, people always ask, what is the source of my joys and I tell them Jesus-mycin. You know, there are antibiotics like Azithromycin and Erythromycin. So I tell them mine is Jesus-mycin, because I get that by going to God every day in prayer and praising God and singing. And I want to pass that hope to my patients also. That’s why when you go see a doctor who is happy, then you feel happy. And when you go see a doctor who is grumpy, it rubs off whether you like it or not. So that positive energy is so important. And my prayer every day is, “Lord, you helped me to be a doctor. But above all, You are the mighty healer. Help me heal people. Let it be through You, by Your Spirit, by Your power – and either by my words, my actions, even just my smile – let me bring some hope in them.
Bill Locke
That’s beautiful. So what’s next, Yvonne? Do you have any other doors opening? Or are you opening any other new businesses?
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
New businesses? No. Right now I’m focusing on my main interest, which is diabetes and obesity. So we’re working on healthy foods for people with diabetes and obesity, or anyone who wants to live a healthier life, wherever God leads us. And another thing that we’re focusing on also is our faith. We have to, you know. We find sometimes that life gets so busy. We can always get busy with the things of the world, but what about our faith? So that’s our goal this year.
Bill Locke
Well, bless you, Yvonne – your family, your marriage, your clinic, your book, your new ventures. Thank you so much for joining us today.
Dr. Yvonne Kangong
You’re welcome. I feel like singing. What song am I going to sing? (sings the hymn On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand.) That’s my rock. Thank you for having me.
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Valarie Kaur; photo by Jeff Neira
VALARIE KAUR is a civil rights leader, lawyer, award-winning filmmaker, and educator. She became an activist when a Sikh family friend was the first person murdered in hate violence in the aftermath of 9/11. For two decades, in his memory, Valarie has led visionary campaigns to tell untold stories and change policy on issues ranging from hate crimes to digital freedom. Today, she leads The Revolutionary Love Project to inspire and equip people across America with the practical tools to build beloved community.
A daughter of Punjabi Sikh farmers in California, Valarie lifts up her vision for America in her acclaimed TED Talk and #1 LA Times Bestseller See No Stranger: A Memoir and Manifesto of Revolutionary Love (One World Publishing, New York, 2020). Valarie earned degrees at Stanford University, Harvard Divinity School, and Yale Law School, and holds several honorary doctorates. In the fall of 2022, President Biden honored Valarie at the White House in the first-ever Uniters Ceremony, naming her as one of sixteen leaders whose work is healing America.
Due to a brief illness, Valarie was unable to take part in a video interview. However, we were able to connect with her in other ways, and she graciously took the time to answer our questions. We are delighted to share her story, and her vision for the future.
KOLBE TIMES: Valarie, we’re very glad to be able to include you in our Valentine’s Day “Love” issue. Can you…
To experience Valarie’s vision, watch her TED Talk, visit her website, and follow her on Facebook and Instagram
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The Gift of the Magi, beloved by many, can be found on numerous online lists of ‘most romantic short stories’. It is a timeless tale of young love, generosity and sacrifice, written by the popular author William Sydney Porter – better known by his pen name O. Henry. The story first appeared in the New York Sunday World newspaper on December 10, 1905, and was later published in the book The Four Million, a collection of O. Henry’s short stories. So find a cosy spot and savour this lovely yarn from a master storyteller, guaranteed to transport you back to simpler times.
One dollar and eighty seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one’s cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.
In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name “Mr. James Dillingham Young.” The “Dillingham” had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, the letters of “Dillingham” looked blurred, as though they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called “Jim” and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.
Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a grey cat walking a grey fence in a grey backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn’t go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling—something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.
There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.
Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.
Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim’s gold watch that had been his father’s and his grandfather’s. The other was Della’s hair. Had the Queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty’s jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.
So now Della’s beautiful hair fell about her, rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read: “Mme. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds.” One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the “Sofronie.”
“Will you buy my hair?” asked Della.
“I buy hair,” said Madame. “Take yer hat off and let’s have a sight at the looks of it.”
Down rippled the brown cascade. “Twenty dollars,” said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.
“Give it to me quick,” said Della.
Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim’s present.
She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation—as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim’s. It was like him. Quietness and value—the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.
When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends—a mammoth task.
Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
“If Jim doesn’t kill me,” she said to herself, “before he takes a second look at me, he’ll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do—oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?”
At 7 o’clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.
Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayers about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: “Please God, make him think I am still pretty.”
The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two—and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.
Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della wriggled off the table and went for him.
“Jim, darling,” she cried, “don’t look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold it because I couldn’t have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It’ll grow out again—you won’t mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say ‘Merry Christmas!’ Jim, and let’s be happy. You don’t know what a nice—what a beautiful, nice gift I’ve got for you.”
“You’ve cut off your hair?” asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.
“Cut it off and sold it,” said Della. “Don’t you like me just as well, anyhow? I’m me without my hair, ain’t I?”
Jim looked about the room curiously.
“You say your hair is gone?” he said, with an air almost of idiocy.
“You needn’t look for it,” said Della. “It’s sold, I tell you—sold and gone, too. It’s Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered,” she went on with sudden serious sweetness, “but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?”
Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year—what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.
Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.
“Don’t make any mistake, Dell,” he said, “about me. I don’t think there’s anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you’ll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first.”
White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.
For there lay The Combs—the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims—just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.
But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: “My hair grows so fast, Jim!”
And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, “Oh, oh!”
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.
“Isn’t it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You’ll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it.”
Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.
“Dell,” said he, “let’s put our Christmas presents away and keep ’em a while. They’re too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on.”
The magi, as you know, were wise men—wonderfully wise men—who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.
William Sydney Porter (1862-1910), a.k.a. O Henry, was born in Greensboro, North Carolina. He is known primarily for his very popular short stories, though he also wrote poetry and non-fiction. His stories displayed his wit and imagination, and often had surprise endings. His own life, with all its ups and downs, reads like one of his stories.
Porter started work in his uncle’s drugstore in 1879 and became a licensed pharmacist at age 19. He enjoyed sketching the townspeople who frequented the pharmacy and was an apt student of human nature. Porter then moved to Texas at the age of 21, where he worked on a sheep ranch. He also became a skilled musician on the guitar and mandolin, and for a while worked as a freelance journalist before taking a job in a bank. He married 17-year-old Athol Estes, who came from a wealthy family in Austen. They had a daughter, but unfortunately Porter was quite careless in his job at the bank and was eventually charged with embezzlement – a charge he denied. Just before he was due to stand trial, he fled to Honduras.
During this time, his wife contracted tuberculosis, and when he found out she was dying, Porter returned to Austin and surrendered to the court. His wife died shortly before his trial, and Porter had little to say at the trial in his own defense. He was sentenced to five years in prison. He worked as a pharmacist in the prison hospital, and it was while in prison that he started writing short stories under the pseudonym O. Henry. A friend sent the stories to magazines, and 14 of them were published. (The publishers had no idea that the writer was in prison.)
Porter was released for good behaviour after serving three years of his sentence and reunited with his daughter, who had been staying with his wife’s family. Together they moved to New York City in 1902. Over the next few years, Porter wrote over 370 short stories, mostly for the New York World Sunday magazine. His stories, with their creativity and humour, won him wide acclaim. Porter married his childhood sweetheart, Sarah Coleman, in 1907. Unfortunately, he had become a heavy drinker by this time, and soon his deteriorating health was affecting his life in many ways, including his writing. By 1909, Sarah had left him, and William Sydney Porter died on June 5, 1910 at the age of 47.
In 1952, Marilyn Monroe and Charles Laughton starred in O. Henry’s Full House, a film featuring five of Porter’s short stories. The film included The Cop and the Anthem, The Clarion Call, The Last Leaf, The Ransom of Red Chief (starring Fred Allen and Oscar Levant), and The Gift of the Magi.
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Icon of St. Valentine
Saint Valentine, officially known as Saint Valentine of Rome, is a third-century Roman saint widely celebrated on February 14 and commonly associated with “courtly love.”
Although not much of St. Valentine’s life is reliably known, and whether or not the stories involve two different saints by the same name is also not officially decided, it is highly agreed that St. Valentine was martyred and then buried on the Via Flaminia to the north of Rome.
The legends attributed to the mysterious saint are as inconsistent as the actual identification of the man.
One common story about St. Valentine is that in one point of his life, as the former Bishop of Terni, Narnia and Amelia, he was on house arrest with Judge Asterius. While discussing religion and faith with the Judge, Valentine pledged the validity of Jesus. The judge immediately put Valentine and his faith to the test.
St. Valentine was presented with the judge’s blind daughter and told to restore her sight. If he succeeded, the judge vowed to do anything for Valentine. Placing his hands onto her eyes, Valentine restored the child’s vision.
Judge Asterius was humbled and obeyed Valentine’s requests. Asterius broke all the idols around his house, fasted for three days and became baptized, along with his family and entire 44-member household. The now faithful judge then freed all of his Christian inmates.
St. Valentine was later arrested again for continuing to try to convert people to Christianity. He was sent to Rome under the emperor Claudius Gothicus (Claudius II). According to the popular hagiographical identity, and what is believed to be the first representation of St. Valentine, the Nuremberg Chronicle, St. Valentine was a Roman priest martyred during Claudius’ reign. The story tells that St. Valentine was imprisoned for marrying Christian couples and aiding Christians being persecuted by Claudius in Rome. Both acts were considered serious crimes. A relationship between the saint and emperor began to grow, until Valentine attempted to convince Claudius of Christianity. Claudius became enraged and sentenced Valentine to death, commanding him to renounce his faith or be beaten with clubs and beheaded.
St. Valentine refused to renounce his faith and was executed outside the Flaminian Gate on February 14, 269. However, other tales of St. Valentine’s life claim he was executed either in the year 269, 270, 273 or 280. Other depictions of St. Valentine’s arrests tell that he secretly married couples so husbands wouldn’t have to go to war. Another variation of the legend of St. Valentine says he refused to sacrifice to pagan gods and was imprisoned. While imprisoned he healed the jailer’s blind daughter. On the day of his execution, he left the girl a note signed, “Your Valentine.”
Pope Julius I is said to have built a church near Ponte Mole in his memory, which for a long time gave name to the gate now called Porta del Popolo, formerly Porta Valetini.
The romantic nature of Valentine’s Day may have derived during the Middle Ages, when it was believed that birds paired couples in mid-February. Geoffrey Chaucer, author of The Canterbury Tales, made the association in his poem ‘The Parlement of Foules’, written sometime in the 1380s. The long poem (699 words) features a parliament, or assembly, of birds that have gathered together in order to choose their mates. As Chaucer’s narrator in the poem remarks, “For this was on Seynt Volantynys day / Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make.” (From www.interestingliterature.com) According to English 18th-century antiquarians Alban Butler and Francis Douce, Valentine’s Day was most likely created to overpower the pagan holiday, Lupercalia. Although the exact origin of the holiday is not widely agreed upon, it is widely recognized as a day for love, devotion, and romance.
Whoever he was, Valentine did really exist, because archaeologists have unearthed a Roman catacomb and an ancient church dedicated to St. Valentine. In 496 AD Pope Gelasius marked February 14th as a celebration in honor of his martyrdom.
Relics of St. Valentine can be found all over the world. A flower-crowned skull of St. Valentine can be found in the Basilica of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, Rome. In 1836, other relics were exhumed from the catacombs of Saint Hippolytus on the Via Tiburtina and were identified as Valentine’s. These were transported for a special Mass dedicated to those young and in love.
Fr. John Spratt received a gift from Pope Gregory XVI in 1836 containing a “small vessel tinged” with St. Valentine’s blood. This gift now stands placed in Whitefriar Street Church in Dublin, Ireland.
Other alleged relics were found in Prague in the Church of St Peter and Paul at Vysehrad; in the parish church of St. Mary’s Assumption in Chelmno Poland; at the reliquary of Roquemaure in France; in the Stephansdom in Vienna; in Balzan in Malta and also in Blessed John Duns Scotus’ church in the Gorbals area of Glasgow, Scotland.
St. Valentine is the Patron Saint of affianced couples, bee keepers, engaged couples, epilepsy, fainting, greetings, happy marriages, love, lovers, plague, travellers, and young people.
Reprinted with permission of Catholic Online www.catholic.org
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Br. Curtis Almquist, SSJE
Curtis Almquist was raised in the United States in the Midwest. He studied developmental psychology and worked in international healthcare and as a Social Worker in Chicago prior to seminary, then being ordained to the priesthood. He came to the Society of Saint John the Evangelist – an Anglican religious order for men – at SSJE’s monastery in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1987. He enjoys woodworking, photography (especially portraiture), and walking five miles a day. His work is mostly with leaders and with prisoners, listening.
We’re very pleased to share this rich and thoughtful conversation with Br. Curtis.
Interview by Bill Locke
30 minutes
For more information about the Brothers of St. John the Evangelist, and to explore and access their many helpful resources such as daily sermons, live-streamed services, and “Brother, Give Us A Word” (a daily monastic practice to nourish your spirit) visit their website at www.ssje.org
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We Built the Teahouse and They Came
Words and Photos by Karen Toews
Nova Scotia
karentoews.com
It was on a winter getaway to the Alberta Canadian Rockies when my sister-in-law Ruth and I hatched the idea to open a teahouse.
I was in my mid-thirties, spinning my wheels between jobs; my children aged twelve and ten were getting self-sufficient and school was an easy five-minute walk from home. Ruth was in a similar work funk; minus children.
“Our town needs a restaurant that offers real food made from scratch and serves good coffee, including espresso coffees.”
We didn’t consider discussing this brainwave with a food service owner, therefore we didn’t get the message, “You’ll basically be creating a job for yourself where you’re the worker, the boss, the cleaner-upper. It’s all your baby.” Rather, the idea grew from a simmer to a boil as we brainstormed how we would provide tasty, fresh food that was ‘different’ than other places in town. We had experienced in our mother’s kitchens – both resourceful cooks – how nourishing food with hospitality makes people feel happy. That’s what we wanted.
We didn’t think of crafting a business plan, however sipping takeout lattés around a motel table with our husbands, the ideas kept popping and we created our next employment plan!
The menu would be small and everything on it would be fresh. We would add to the menu tea with little pots and china teacups, served with scones and heavy cream – so we could call it a teahouse. We wanted ‘a life besides work’ so business hours would be 9:00 am to 4:00 pm, Monday thru Saturday. We knew of an older building on Main Street that our construction-builder husbands could renovate into a small teahouse.
The plan intensified and felt even more right once we were back home in Wetaskiwin. Ruth knew ‘how to do books’ so she would keep track of the finances. I would be the main recipe-hunter and menu planner. We scoured sources for selling dishes, food suppliers, used kitchen equipment and dining room furniture (that’s all we could afford), and on and on.
During this energized, stimulating time Ruth became pregnant! We would have a teahouse baby to add to the mix! At any rate, we would need extra staff, and thanks to a lifetime of being involved in many circles of our community, we didn’t need to post ads for help wanted.
These were classy, sturdy bills: the back was handy for notes or recipes.
Within six months, in the spring of 1988, the coffee was hot in the pot and the door was open. We survived the first frazzling weekend: we were up and running.
We worked hard, learned ‘everything’ as we went along, even had fun. And built a solid customer base of happy people thanks to our good staff; a consistent supply of sticky cinnamon buns, orange rolls and other goodies; fresh healthy soups, salads, and bagel plates (something different for our town!) and a compatible partnership. Ruth and I rebounded from kitchen ‘disasters’ – food challenges, equipment breaking down, glass dishes falling off a shelf (a small scar on my nose remains) – we worked our scheduled shifts, covered for employees who couldn’t make it to work. Amazingly, crashes were avoided with all the traffic going through the swinging door to the kitchen, and we navigated through complaints i.e. “the orange slices taste like onions” or “I don’t like the tomato bisque as well this time”. Loyal customers came faithfully on schedule for coffee and muffins after their weekly Elderdog walk, or booked the Teahouse for special occasions.
An intimate, homey atmosphere for celebrations
We discovered it’s true: the food service business absorbed our life. After four years, other priorities were deemed more important, i.e. baby number two for Ruth and teenagers for me. We were ready for a change and we were tired.
The business was sold; Ruth and I felt honoured that some of the staff stayed with the new owners. The Teahouse changed hands again a few years later – and eventually was no longer a business.
I’m glad Ruth and I didn’t get a second opinion before we jumped all-in. I learned that with the right helpers – in this case my partner Ruth and my life-partner Derryl – I could tackle a huge unknown, and by investing money, hard work and personality I could make it happen. Yes, my two children got sick of eating leftover soup; and I will pass on cheesecake forever. That’s what happens when you rotate with a cheesecake of the week and there are leftovers! However my oldest child, Renee, learned how to use the commercial dishwasher, to serve and clear tables, to earn spending money – with tips!
No longer a Teahouse, but memories remain intact. Photo: Dec/2022
It was a good season; the people – the friends – who worked with and for us helped make it that way. We are spread out across the country (Canada), and rarely or never see each other. Yet in 2021 we joined the Covid-lockdown isolation trend to have our first reunion ever, online. Our teahouse stories and the laughter and appreciation for each other manifested what faithful and committed friends I have.
Thanks to the adventure of starting a teahouse.
My Career As an Altar Boy
By Gerry Turcotte
Vancouver, B.C.
When I turned nine, I became an altar boy at the local church. I remember the lovely uniform I got to wear and the exquisite smell of the incense in the change rooms. On my first day, the priest explained that I would lead the procession out into the church, carrying the gold crucifix on a long silver pole. ‘Hold it up proudly’, he said, but he forgot to warn me about the low archway.
I was demoted to bell ringer. ‘Don’t worry’, he said, ‘I’ll tell you when you’re meant to ring them.’
At the altar, during the most sacred ceremony on my first day of serving Mass, I looked out at the four people in the congregation. Two of these were my parents, who had fought their way through the worst snowstorm of the year to watch their son’s great triumph. They were smiling up at me, waving surreptitiously. I was about to wave back when I felt the priest’s foot poking me in the ribs. I looked up at him and he stood with the oversized host raised in his hands. He was looking up toward the ceiling, but his mouth was angled down.
‘Now, boy. Ring the bell!’ I started ringing for my life. The sound was magical. It reminded me of Christmas—of sleigh bells. I lowered my head and shut my eyes so tightly that I actually saw stars. And I rang those bells. I thought to myself, ‘No one will ever ring these as well or as loudly’.
The priest kicked me sharply in the ribs and knocked the breath out of me. ‘For goodness sake, knock it off!’ he said. I stared up at him through watery eyes. ‘But you said….’ I began.
‘Shh!’ he whispered, slipping briefly into Latin, and then, correcting himself, repeating the words in English. He nudged me again, gently this time, and I let forth with another tremendous ring of the bells that he cut short with such a sharp jab of his foot that I let out a yell. Make up your mind, I thought angrily!
Later, because of my unfamiliarity with the vestments, I found that I was the last one in the change room. The priest seemed pleased to find me there. He moved in and poked his flushed face in my vicinity. He seemed terribly uncomfortable. I watched his mouth, as he said, ‘Well, that wasn’t so bad’, and then only half understood as he explained that perhaps I wasn’t cut out for this. Years later, when I thought about this time, I wondered insecurely if I was the only altar boy ever to be fired. At the time, though, I only felt relief.
Outside the church, in the blistery winter air, my mother hugged me tightly. She was crying. ‘You were so good’, she said. ‘I’m sure you could hear those bells all over town.’
My Miraculous Start at Signpost Music
Words and Artwork by Faye Hall
Winnipeg, Manitoba
Working as an administrative assistant at Portage Avenue Church in Winnipeg, I assisted with Signpost Music’s assistant Laura to bring the Steve Bell Sons & Daughters Tour to my church. I remember thinking that Laura had a really “cool” job, and that it would be something that I could really be interested in.
I again worked with Laura to bring a concert to my church in December 2002. My dear husband Wern had recently died, so Steve Bell and his manager Dave Zeglinski thoughtfully expressed their condolences by giving me a couple of CDs – one of them Solace for Seasons of Suffering.
Steve’s band booked my church again to rehearse for the very first Symphony Sessions concert in Winnipeg. I happened to pass Dave in the foyer of the church and casually asked if they might be hiring anytime soon, since I was on the lookout for new employment possibilities.
Apparently, Dave remembered my inquiry, and Laura called from Signpost a few weeks later to see if I was still interested in a job.
Sadly, I had already resigned at the church, and was headed to a training day at Newcap Radio as an administrative assistant. However, the first day I arrived for my training, I was informed that the station had suddenly switched to become a country station and that my new job had disappeared. Shocked and stunned, I called Laura and asked her if the job at Signpost was still available.
I started my part-time position at Signpost Music in January of 2007. I re-booted my freelance advertising design business, worked at Kelly Services, and evenings as a banquet server at Rossmere Country Club to supplement my income. Those were hectic months! Fortunately, Laura moved on to new job opportunities, and I eventually became full-time at Signpost Music.
I thank God for bringing me to assist in the ministry of Steve Bell and his music. I have now become the longest-lasting employee at 15 years. I work part-time now that I am semi-retired, but am still useful yet.
Steve’s photography also inspired my own art career to begin anew. Here is a portrait I painted of some boys he photographed on a trip to Ethiopia and Bangladesh with the Canadian Foodgrains Bank:
By Charlie Grove
Prince George, B.C.
If we are here on earth to support others, then one may ask: what exactly are the others here for? The folks coming in off the streets to St. Vincent de Paul Kitchen where I volunteer are the unique, valuable, interesting components of the first step in Buddhist meditation. The earliest disciples were called “Hearers”. That is what I strive for and what my volunteering encourages in me. I know my food preparation time is helpful and supportive to others but my time there is a gift I give myself. Kindness is more than an ideological good idea. Kindness is the glue, the skill of living together. The best acts of kindness are small and anonymous, and my volunteering reminds me of this every day and I’m thankful.
But I was fortunate in my professional employment as well. I worked with and learned from students with specialized learning abilities (referred to as Special Education). I was challenged to always do better but I never felt like I was working. I put in hours studying, and creating relevant and robust individual curriculum, and completing a Masters degree – but it was never work to listen and learn from my students. I was not trying to be a sage on the stage, but rather a guide on the side. When I yearn then I learn. The profession seemed to select me as I had much to learn from my ‘teachers’, often referred to as students.
But the most pointed, poignant, profound and personal work-related story and lesson came while I was delivering The Calgary Herald in Red Deer when I was 13 years old. My best friend and a wonderful peer influence was Lee Toy. He was a gifted athlete, a top academic student, the most sincere, respectful, caring and honest person I knew. A pure role model. He often helped me deliver my papers. When my family was preparing for a two-week holiday in Victoria I trained Lee on where to pick up the papers and how to collect from the customers at the end of the month. He was very motivated to make some money and all the customers knew him. A week before my family was to leave, I took Lee in to introduce him to the manager of The Herald in Red Deer. I told the manager that Lee would be my substitute, and would do my route while I was away. As we were leaving his office, the manager asked me to wait a minute, and he closed the door behind Lee. He said that it was fine for Lee to help me and that he seemed like a good friend. But it would not be okay for him to do the route on his own while I was away. Customers would not like this. They would not want him walking up to their doors.
I had no response and no idea what was behind this conversation. I remember sweating and having a headache as I left his office. It was as if my body understood the message, but my mind did not. I kept this all to myself. After cycling home and saying goodbye to Lee, I walked into our kitchen and told Dad what had happened.
He said nothing to me except, “Let’s get into the car.”
We drove back to The Herald office. The manager was still there, and we walked into his office. Dad calmly said, “Charlie will not be delivering a single copy of the paper ever again.” He then turned around and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him, and we drove home. I knew I had witnessed something important, beautiful and everlasting in my Dad. Was I too young to be proud of my Dad? I did not think so.
By Julian Di Castri
St. Albert, Alberta
My older brother Dennis was supposed to take that summer job, it was his friend calling to see if he wanted to work as a compass man for the British Columbia Forest Service. It was the summer of 1974, I was twenty years old and had envisioned a leisure vacation frittering away my time, perhaps working odd jobs during the two months at the family home in Victoria. However, through some cosmic conspiracy, I was passed the phone and without fully processing the ramifications, I agreed to take the job starting at the beginning of June. I would catch the earliest ferry to the mainland, travel to the B.C. Forest warehouse, meet my crew, receive instruction and orientation, and then travel to some unknown camp in the wilds of British Columbia. Fear and trepidation reigned for the next five weeks!
During those weeks leading up to my departure I was haunted with all the possible disasters that would befall me in the menacing wilderness of British Columbia. I stewed in dread, wringing my hands, verbalizing to my family members how I had made a big mistake accepting this position. Images plagued me of getting lost, being mauled by grizzly bears or swept away by the raging white waters of those mountain rivers. By the end of May, my lame laments and gloom and doom predictions had pushed my family to exasperation!
Through some force beyond myself I boarded that 6 a.m. ferry to Tsawwassen. On that misty morning, with anxiety running high, I spent most of the voyage to the mainland outside on the deck, peering into the dense fog and literally praying that some calamity would strike this lumbering craft, saving me from the terrors of the wilds. Needless to say, a transcendental interruption never came to my aid!
Upon arriving at my camp in Invermere B.C., I was met by the crew of young men and women, mostly university students my age, some forestry students, and the senior management – all very warm and welcoming. Our living arrangement was shades of a MASH Unit, a veritable tent village with us sleeping four to a unit. We were transported to remote parts of the province via a fleet of Land Rovers, Zodiac boats, dirt bikes, a helicopter and a variety of pontoon planes. The food was excellent, and we hiked through spectacular virgin forests collecting data within the timber stands. By summer’s end, the crew had morphed into a tight community with strong bonds of friendship.
At that time in my life, I had not developed much of a “Spiritual Spine” so on the occasional Sunday, I would slink out of camp to attend a mass at the closest town. Despite this furtive expression of my faith, I discovered a new love and reverence for the Creator as my eyes adjusted to the splendor of nature, the awesome view from a helicopter, below a vast canopy of emerald green interrupted by sparkling blue lakes and torrents of white waterfalls cascading down the slopes of mountains. The complete silence walking through a misty, mossy old-growth forest stilled me. Living in such proximity to a diverse group of individuals broadened my social skills and acceptance of others. All the fretting back in Victoria was a distant memory as that first camp in Invermere was just the launch of four more exhilarating summers working in different camps throughout B.C.
The takeaway: in the wilderness always trust your compass; in life I’ve learned to lean in and trust my Transcendent compass!
My Circus Tent
By Ken Fast
Derwent, Alberta
Circa 1975.
I saw an ad in the Montreal Gazette, a one-day job to make twenty dollars. Cash on the spot. I was in my mid-twenties, living in Montreal and looking for some extra work. Twenty dollars wasn’t great, but some extra cash wouldn’t hurt. About three dollars an hour. I was working several jobs, mostly in music education, but it was all part-time work. Twenty dollars in those days might be something like …. a hundred and fifty dollars today? It was menial work, a no-brain way to make a few bucks.
The employer: Circus Vargas. I could help set up the big tent! A bit of a change, some excitement, I might even see some animals, maybe see the big band warming up. As a child, I had seen a circus two or three times and I remember cotton candy, glittering gold costumes, lights strobing and sweeping across the top of the tent, artists in dazzling costumes walking the high wire. Trapeze artists, happy clowns, and trained elephants. A live band with lots of blaring trumpets and trombones and their melodies and dramatic underscores filled the tent with magic. Here I would be behind the scenes for a day.
Why not?
I showed up bright and early and joined the guys, about a dozen or so.
The boss gave us the instructions:
“You will work in teams of two; set up the stands for the benches.”
Others would be raising the big poles and unfolding the big coloured canvas.
There was one more thing.
“There is a half-hour lunch break (we brought our own lunch), but if you leave and don’t finish the day, you won’t get paid.”
Fair enough. Why would anyone leave?
My co-worker and I hauled the frames to set up the benches. They were made of steel, and we assembled many of them. We carried them over the field, and then bolted them together. I don’t know what they weighed but they were very very heavy.
By noon, half the guys had taken off, cashless and very tired.
Lunch break. I stretched out my aching arms. I was not going to leave and forfeit my money.
At the end of the day I had my twenty dollars in cash.
Arriving home, my limbs felt like they were about to fall off. I drove down to the nearest drug store to find muscle balm. I purchased several expensive creams to help soothe and relieve my pain. The bill came to…
About twenty dollars.
Behind all the drama and excitement are people who labour away for a day’s wage, people who set up the benches for the audience so they can safely sit down and enjoy the show. The unknown stars.
A Google search tells me that Circus Vargas still exists.
“Circus Vargas at its peak was using the largest circus tent, the size of a football field, which took thirty men seven hours to raise.” (Wikipedia).
There it is. I made history in Wikipedia, as one of those thirty men who worked seven hours to raise the tent.
I hope that many families in Montreal, families with children, laughed and enjoyed the show that evening, sitting on those benches. But I did not buy a ticket to see the show. And I never did see the big band warming up.
Postlude:
In 2010, Circus Vargas discontinued their animal acts.
My Amazing Past Experience
Words and Photos by Vincent Hanlon
Lethbridge, Alberta
For a number of years I have been an examiner doing English proficiency exams each October in a couple of schools in Buenos Aires. For the 10-year-old Spanish-speaking students, part of their exam involves speaking in English for 3 or 4 minutes about a significant past experience. I have tried to capture some of the characteristics of their collective style in writing about “my amazing past experience.”
Today I want to tell you about my trip to Buenos Aires.
One day my friend Grant surprised me with a most unusual question. Do you want to go to Buenos Aires? At first, I did not know what to say. I never thought about going to Buenos Aires. So why would I want to go there now? But this cat was curious, so I said, “Yes, I want to go to Buenos Aires.”
I said, “Yes” to my friend and I’m so glad I did! For three excellent reasons.
Evita, my bike for my Buenos Aires city tour
First of all I met many beautiful people. The people of Buenos Aires are called porteños. A porteño is the resident of a port city, such as Buenos Aires. For example, I met Will Whittle, the owner of Biking Buenos Aires. He took me on a fabulous bicycle ride through the parks and plazas of Palermo and Belgrano. We visited the Rose Garden. I saw a million roses in bloom. Then we had lunch in Barrio Chino. Then we went by the house of the famous Argentine writer, Jorge Luis Borges. Sad to say, his house will be demolished and an apartment building will fill its place. That makes me want to cry.
Besides meeting many friendly people, I got to eat a lot of delicious food. I ate lots of meat — oyo de bife al punto, succulent bondiola and mouth-watering cordero. For dessert, you name it, I ate it! Dulce de leche, frutos rojos con crema, and torta chocolate. Once I even tried to eat two kilos of ice cream. It was amazing!
Sorry I don’t have time to tell you about my favourite drinks—cafe cortado, Malbec, and mate.
Last but not least, I learned many Spanish words. Listen to this:
Buon día. Que tal?
Donde está el Subte?
Vamos Rafa Nadal!
Tenemos conversación y una copa de vino.
Avenida Cabildo está muy ocupado.
And my favourite expression—Todo va muy buen, mi amigo. Speaking Spanish is my passion!
So there you have it. I said, “Yes” to my friend, Grant. I went to Buenos Aires, and thanks be to God, I did.
Now when I am in my country in Canada I think of Buenos Aires—beautiful people, exquisite food and a whole new wonderful language. Español!
In conclusion, I want to quote another friend of mine who once told me after his first
unforgettable visit to Paris, “I have found my place in the world.” I feel the same way about
Buenos Aires. Have you found your place in the world?
Mothers’ Day, in October, in Buenos Aires
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Have you ever wondered what it’s like for a doctor from Nigeria to move to Canada and begin medical practice there? Dr. Tolu Gbadebo tells us about his journey, and how his faith keeps him moving forward. Continue reading →
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We’re excited to present our delightful conversation with bestselling Canadian author Louise Penny, known for her Three Pines novels featuring the much-loved detective, Chief Inspector Armand Gamache. Continue reading →
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A number of our readers took part in our Book Lovers' Issue, and told us about some of their favourite titles…or shared a reflection on their reading or writing experiences. Continue reading →
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We love this short, inspirational video, in which AMI Media’s Beth Deer spends time with the owner of the Lil E Café – a unique coffee house in Calgary whose mission is to provide meaningful employment and connection for individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities. Continue reading →
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Dr. Joel Christie, Ph.D. is the Chair of the Alberta Premier’s Council on Charities and Civil Society. He is the co-author of two books on leadership and collaboration, and has many years experience in the areas of strategic change management and community development. Dr. Christie and his wife Mavis live in Calgary. We are delighted to share our conversation about ways to enhance and support “the common good”. Continue reading →
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We're delighted to share our conversation with Ukrainian Greek Catholic Archbishop Borys Gudziak of Philadelphia about his life and work, and the current situation in Ukraine. Continue reading →
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Dr. Omar Reda is a psychiatrist, author and Harvard-trained trauma expert who has worked in many parts of the world on the front lines of post-conflict scenarios. Join us for our conversation with this dedicated healer as we learn about some of his remarkable experiences, his current work, and the insights he has gained. Continue reading →
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We recently had the pleasure of speaking with Interfaith leader Eboo Patel, who was a member of President Barack Obama’s Inaugural Faith Council, and who founded the Interfaith Youth Core. Join us as we converse with Dr. Patel about his personal story, the state of interfaith relations in the world today, and the places where hope resides. Continue reading →
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Join us for a delightful and inspiring interview with this astronaut, aquanaut, mom, artist and author, who spent over 100 days in space aboard the International Space Station and on the final flight of the Space Shuttle Discovery. She is now on a mission to share an important message: we are all crewmates here on Spaceship Earth. Continue reading →
The post A Conversation with Astronaut Nicole Stott appeared first on Kolbe Times.
Dr. John Rook, PhD is currently the President and CEO of Simon House Recovery Centre in Calgary. He has a reputation as an exceptional leader and speaker in the areas of poverty, homelessness, addictions and policy change. He is also a very kind and engaging human being, with a big heart for the vulnerable. Continue reading →
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We’re pleased to present this rich and profoundly hopeful video interview with teacher and scholar Rabbi Nahum Ward-Lev, author of The Liberating Path of the Hebrew Prophets; Then and Now. His engaging insights give us a vision of a just and compassionate society, and point to a new way forward. Continue reading →
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We reached out again this issue to our readers – this time, to share the gifts of wisdom that they’ve received. Once again, we were delighted with the response, and relished the variety of stories, personal reflections, proverbs, prayers, poetry, music, photography, paintings, and quotes. Best of all, we now get to share these wonderful nuggets of wisdom with you. Continue reading →
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Robert Ellsberg is publisher and editor-in-chief of Orbis Books, and an award-winning author. In our video interview, Robert recalls the people that have been inspirational on his own journey – such as Dorothy Day, Henri Nouwen, Thomas Merton, Franz Jägerstätter, and his father, the political activist Daniel Ellsberg. His thoughtful reflections help us rediscover the courage around us, and within us. Continue reading →
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A prolific writer of over 50 books and a popular international speaker/teacher, Dr. Wicks is widely known for his work in Rwanda, Cambodia and numerous other countries helping to restore traumatized lives in the wake of massive tragedies. He continues to guide people all over the world in discovering their strengths and taking charge of their self-care, integrating sound psychology and basic spiritual truths. Continue reading →
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Br. Mickey McGrath is a Religious Brother in the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales. He is also an award-winning artist and writer, as well as being a popular speaker and retreat leader. Br. Mickey’s enthusiasm for new experiences and his love for people shines like a beacon wherever he goes, as he celebrates the connections between art, beauty, and faith. Continue reading →
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Click on images to enlarge
Artwork and Words by Cindy Bouwers
of Airdrie, Alberta
Part of my artist statement reveals that my intention in making art is to bring viewers “a moment of pleasure – a recognition of beauty.” What is beauty? To me it is a value, like goodness and truth. A universal need embedded in our humanness, and when it is ignored leads us into a spiritual desert. Beauty can be a balm in the suffering of life, a consolation in sorrow and an affirmation in our joy. I particularly love this quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson: “Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful; for beauty is God’s handwriting – a wayside sacrament.”
www.cindybouwers.com
The Beauty of It All
(written somewhat in response to Psalm 16:11)
By Rusty Foerger of Edmonton, Alberta
Aren’t all disappointments signs that aim at our heart and say:
“Here alone is fullness of joy”?
And the beauty of it all is
I never saw it coming
I never deserved Your kindness
To fill me with such wonder
And flood me with such awe.
And the beauty of it all is
I could look for it and still be surprised;
You could be in front of me and not seen
Until that spark finally ignites
Until Your passion burns in me.
And the beauty of it all is
The endless loops of wonder
The dendritic pathways of discovery
The labyrinthine journeys of joy
All found in You, from You, with You.
And the beauty of it all is
“Here alone is fullness of joy.”
“Singing His Song”
Harmony through Harmony, a network of singing ensembles
Video submitted by Beth McLean Wiest (Harmony through Harmony’s Executive Director) and her husband Reid McLean Wiest (Creative Director)
Music by Reid McLean Wiest. Performed by Harmony through Harmony, based in Calgary, Alberta.
Recorded remotely due to COVID-19.
www.harmonythroughharmony.com
Beauty for Ashes
by Dr. David L. Gustafson
Executive Director
Community Justice Initiatives
Langley, British Columbia
We were exhausted. We drove on, mile after mile, along the west bank, high above British Columbia’s Okanagan Lake, saying little; each of us quieted, reflecting on the experience of the past few days. Each of those days had been spent with survivors of serious crimes committed against them and their loved ones: the senseless murder of a son, a brother; a decade of torturous child and adolescent emotional and sexual abuse in a totalitarian ‘family’ cult. We had just left the survivor of the latter–a woman of indomitable spirit–yet grieving the loss of so much, and facing into tomorrows which, to her, hold out a prospect almost as bleak as the forty years of yesterdays.
Listening, listening. To the stories of pain and unmet need, respecting the tellers’ sense of what is still required for them to find a greater degree of healing, and closure. They are the experts in their history, their day to day experience, and we, at best, are positioned and equipped to be the cautious process guides.
In each case, over these past few days, we have been given a sacred trust: each of these people have made decisions to begin to participate in a program run by our agency which works with victims of the most serious crimes in the Canadian Criminal Code, and with the perpetrators incarcerated (and who take responsibility) for those crimes.
As I drive, I reflect on how little we have to offer in the face of such immense human need, such lingering grief and darkness. Yet, I know too, the truth of what they tell us: that our caring, a combination of professionalism and devoted personal attention, increases hope and offers them greater prospect of healing than anything else they have received so far in the search for justice. Small comfort.
The scene as the road stretches out before us seems fitting commentary for our thoughts. Counterpane and counterpoint, the interplay of light, and deepening shadow. Dusk comes on, hastened by the approach of ominous charcoal storm clouds, boiling up the valley, vapour in a venturi, jealously, petulantly pulling the shade on the magnificent vista to the horizon, obscuring our view of the Cascades to the South. Sheets of rain, like slates on a medieval roof appearing softened at the edges by the distance, began to layer the hillsides along the entire eastern shore along the lake. Ancient builders atop a mountain cathedral, laying slate.
The road ahead is dry. Only whitecaps on the lake and sharp gusts at our elevation augur danger, anything amiss. We are miles west of the Storm, watching as the remaining wash of pale background sky is painted over with what seems a slashing broad brush, by thickly applied raw umber–no apparent room for subtlety–the storm is winning. “Where, when we need them”, I try to lighten up, “are the Group of Seven?” Grey, black and umber hues scroll up, from the middle of immense Lake Okanagan to highest heaven. We drive on, no alternative course, toward deepening darkness and collision with the storm.
Then Light. One tiny shard. Piercing through the darkness at what appears its thickest point. And as it comes, the scene becomes transfigured. Words don’t describe the transformation. We don’t try. I try to get my head around the science: isobars and millobars, a wedge of pressure splitting cloud, systems colliding and recoiling. I give it up in favour of mute witness. The light breaks through, opening the rent created, transforming everything it touches. Umbers are eclipsed, turning to magenta, then deep rose. Soft purples, emerge, then blues again, scarlet, and myriad greens. The shaft of light itself is all of these, combining, at its heart, in a vein of purest gold.
I dare to break the silence, to quietly voice a thought, a scripture taught me by my mother:
“A light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never overcome it.”
And suddenly I see our work, our vocation, in a new, more humble yet more adequate way. It seems fitting to risk a few more words, though I am humbled, a man of unclean lips and on holy ground; words written by a friend and fellow-sojourner that seem to describe what we do, inviting still others to join us:
War Weary World
Come and see.
Maybe our lives can be a sacrament,
Love’s presence, in a world that’s bent.
Another’s first foothold
On the way
To hope.
-Martha Keys Barker
www.cjibc.org
Beauty
Photos and Words by Charlie Grove
of Prince George, British Columbia
Some forms of beauty, and places of beauty, are created by others in a deliberate fashion, such as in art galleries and gardens. Other forms of beauty burst forth from within your spirit or magically in front of you, spontaneously, in nature. I run daily in the forest along trails, and I always begin and end these runs with a silent moment of expressing my gratitude. The trees I run alongside are earthly gifts, not natural resources. These runs increase my glimpses of natural beauty but also are a gift of time in which I can be reminded of my internal dreams, thoughts, and plans to try and move towards a more loving and caring life.
The winter is a uniquely soul-stirring time of beauty in the forest. Trees communicate to each other, and I know they certainly do great favours to me. They shade me from the sun and the wind and the blowing snow, and are signposts so that I am never lost. The deep snow absorbs all man-made sounds so you have this silvery silence that heightens sight, hearing ability and retention. You are enveloped in a beauty that is distracting. The run becomes a meditation in motion – this time to contemplate and clarify and consider values, priorities and intentions.
I also love the surprises and unplanned gifts I receive on my runs in the forest. A bend in the trail might bring me into contact with a stranger, which often leads to a very come-by-chance, illuminating conversation…and a new friend made. On other days I regularly see deer, moose, coyotes, wolves, and giant white swans overhead. Another sign I see on the trail, which I perceive as a form of societal beauty, is the trust more women feel to run or cycle or walk on their own through the forest.
This time along the forest trails clarifies my personal vision of who I want to be and elevates my spirit. It has also enabled me to more quickly and clearly see the beauty and goodness that resides in other peoples’ souls and hearts and intended actions. This beauty in others was always there, but a run in the woods somehow strengthens my vision and awareness of it, and my belief in it. Beauty runs (literally) in circles, in a real sense and a spiritual one.
starlings being a scourge
by Curt Gesch of Quick, British Columbia
starlings being a scourge
and crows a murder
owls a parliament
strangely
and peacocks
quite rightly
an ostentation
and birds in general
a congregation or dissimulation
you’d think that someone somewhere
would have just the right noun
for grosbeaks
not the waxy, yellow
puffin-aspiring glossy
evening types
that gorge and depart
without a fare-thee-well
but the others
the ones we have (“mine”)
the pine type
that gather on roads
to scatter at the approach
of a horror of cars
and sit at the tops of tall poplars
singing for God’s sake
and ours
in the middle of winter
during dawn’s early glimmer
these pine types
of gentle browns and reds
of beauty muted or startling
these treasures
of the snow season
I say
we should term
a pleasure. . .
a pleasure
of grosbeaks
yes
Homage to an Orange Dahlia
Poem and Photo by Caroline Woodward
of the Lennard Island Lightstation, off Vancouver Island,
British Columbia
You tilt your head toward the sun
Or bend your face down to the earth
Your body braced for wind and rain
You offer us another way to welcome sunrise
By Bruce Anderson
Director, Core Gift Institute
Vashon, Washington
I have a friend who is fond of saying that most of us are running backwards towards death, afraid both of dying and also of answering faithfully the question, “How did all this begin?” We are addicted, each of us in our own way, to the blind safety of not knowing…a temporary relief from what looms ahead.
Although scientists, poets, and mystics make vocations of trying to answer that question, it must also be true that the answer is available to the commoners like me—carpenters, dry-cleaners, teachers, and ships’ captains. This is not a question we ask experts to answer for us—it is meant for all of us to struggle with. For in each of our answers, we have uniquely said, “This is what is worth living for.”
For me, it all began with beauty, which is love expressed. The seed of all creation is love. It is the core of all things visible and invisible. All acts of good and evil have beauty waiting to be revealed, celebrated, or healed.
At their core, the gifts we exchange with each other are loving acts expressed and received as beauty. So, collectively, our communities increase in beauty the more gifts are recognized, given, and received. I know I am my fullest self when I am able to see the gifted beauty in each one of you amidst the chaos, irritations, and distractions of my daily life.
I believe I will be satisfied at my death remembering it all starts and ends with love expressed as beauty. It is where I have been, where I am going, and where I will return. It is what I am faithful to.
www.coregift.org
Photos and Captions by Vincent Hanlon
of Lethbridge, Alberta
One Step at a Time: This photo is the unexpected beauty of the stairs at my local Y.
The Giant’s Pen: The giant is learning to write with her own barbed wire script
Starship Enterprise: This Sunday sourdough loaf is going where no loaf has gone before…
What is Beauty?
By Maria Morales of Calgary, Alberta
(originally from Mexico)
What is beauty?
I’ve always wanted to know.
I have found beauty outside
and also inside.
Beauty is symmetrical
and sometimes it is crooked.
Beauty is perfection
and also chaotic.
Beauty is so much more
than what we can see.
Accept the beauty life brings to you,
no matter the shape it came with.
Artwork by Leila Ward
of Vernon, British Columbia
The Rocky Shore (Ellison Park)
The Praying Tree
On Beauty
by Anne Ingledew of Edmonton, Alberta
(originally from Jamaica)
I vividly remember my mum saying to dad on many occasions, “John, do look at that sunset/flower/view. Do look!” and he would give an appropriate, appreciative response while I rolled my eyes. But highlighting such beauty nurtured my sensitivity to it. Now I find I am saying similar things to my husband, for beauty in nature awakens a God moment for me and I want to share it – He is alive, He surrounds us and He blesses us profoundly with His creation. It is for us to take a moment to see it and thank Him.
Enjoying Beauty in Unexpected Places
Photo and Words by Jean and Steve Imbach
of Abbotsford, British Columbia
On Discovery Trail, Abbotsford, B.C.
While walking on a nearby trail, my husband and I were attracted to these bright leaves standing out against a dark rock wall. We chuckled as we realized they were blackberry leaves and not the most favourite of garden invaders! Yet we had to admit they were most charming in this setting – giving brightness and yes, beauty to this dark wall.
The Gift of Beauty
By Mike Bowors
of Benalto, Alberta
The beauty of mountains, of blue skies and seas
The beauty of prairies and trees
The beauty of childhood so joyfully free
All eclipsed by the beauty of three
Three in a dance filled with frolic and glee
Calling to others come join in the spree
Delight in each other they’re unhindered, free
The essence of joy flowing out from the three
The rustle of leaves…sstsstsssts…as wind blows through trees
Listen, the cadence of soft flowing breeze
Wistful the spirit now flirts in the lees
Of hearts young like children or bees
So rise up my soul in great joy, if you please
Join whimsical rhythm of wind in the trees
Don’t mince words or thought, simply reach for the keys
To the kingdom now present in sight, sound and breeze
Words and Photo by Elaine McMurray
sent from the unceded territory of the Okanagan Syilx Peoples
Seeing and being present with heroes and heroines…that is beauty for my soul. Praise God for their courage and example…we are called…
Let every action be an action for justice.
Heroes and Heroines
There’s Something About Nature
(inspired by beautiful British Columbia, Canada)
by Jasper Leung-Chau
of Chestermere, Alberta
There’s something about:
Nature that’s good for the soul.
Hearing the birds sing as the steady sun rises.
Sipping your morning coffee.
There’s something about:
Breathing in crisp clean air, surrounded by ancient forests and tall majestic 500-year-old trees.
There’s something about:
Watching the blue ocean flow, sitting atop a cliff.
There’s something about:
Walking along the beach and sinking into the wet shoreline.
Swishing sand between your toes.
Letting waves caress your soles and ankles.
There’s something about:
Feeling the warm sun, as it glistens over vast waters
Dimpling, bobbing, over and over again.
There’s something about:
Greenery, rolling hills and colorful flowers.
Hiking mountains. Reaching vista points.
Coming across deer and wildlife.
Unafraid of humans, knowing that they are safe.
There’s something about:
Drinking fresh water, quenching a long deep thirst.
Eating fresh local fruits. Sweetness lingering in your mouth.
There’s something about:
Taking off your shoes.
Wandering over soft grass, underneath bare feet.
Laying in a meadow, watching clouds float across the sky.
Forgetting time.
Photo and Words by Karen Toews
of the community of Middle LaHave, Nova Scotia
Nova Scotia Shoreline
After a lifetime of fifty-four years in land-locked Alberta, we moved to Nova Scotia, where I am never far from the ocean.
Thirteen years later, in this season of my gnawing hunger for beauty, the Atlantic shoreline unceasingly satisfies.
Its foreverness of tides and powerful waves, ruggedness and shadows. Calm pools.
www.karentoews.com
a little bit of sun
(written when the summer’s smoke was at its thickest)
by Dolf Schoenmakers
of Lasqueti Island, British Columbia
a tree frog sleeps in a patch of sun
on an old tree stump
where the tide runs out
when the tide returns
and covers his stump
the tree frog wakes with a great big jump
with a great big croak
he begins to sing
and that is how this story begins.
the smoke stays
here for a handful of days
September skies seem too grey
it shouldn’t really be that way
yet today the tree frogs sing
their joy just blankets everything
they sense something in the sky
through the smoke, through the grey, way high
where the sun still shines.
tree frog clinging to a tree
a bit of jade in the greenery
it isn’t easy trying to be
a harbinger in that canopy
singing that you can surely see
that the sun still shines
the old ones hang about like leaves
spirit catchers in the highest trees
hearts beating like one big drum
sweet sap flowing along with that thrum
through the trunk, through the dark, way high
to where the sun shines in the sky.
all things rise,
the smoke, the sap, the tide
while the tree frog hides,
shy, but not afraid to sing
about a little bit of sun
a patch for everyone.
Artwork and Poem
by John Denham
of St. Paul, Minnesota
jdenham1804@gmail.com
Hope is Rising (fused remnants of glass, broken mirror, wood)
What is Beauty?
Beauty is a love note to our hearts from God
Read it often
Beauty is a sacred encounter with the Divine
Come join the dance
Beauty is a foundation of human flourishing
Build upon it
Beauty is evidence of what was and will be
Ponder it
Beauty is a witness to a reality greater than ourselves
Let your soul come awake
Beauty is a salve for weariness, contempt, and despair
Use it often
Beauty is the breath of God
Inhale deeply
Beauty Heals
by Marilyn Phillips
of Regina, Saskatchewan
Fire and fireflies,
Buttercups and butterflies,
Mountains and mountain goats,
Oceans and clouds that float.
Lilies and lily pads,
Children and moms and dads,
Beauty in everything,
Creation… it makes me sing!
Sunshine and sunflowers,
Rainclouds and rain showers,
Forests and forest trails,
Blue lakes and fish that sail.
Autumn winds and autumn leaves,
Spider webs the spider weaves,
Snowflakes and snowy banks,
Beauty heals; I give You thanks.
A Favourite Quote
Submitted by
Julie Wilson Docherty
of Winnipeg, Manitoba
“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched;
they must be felt with the heart.”
-Helen Keller
The post Reflections of Beauty – From Our Readers; For Our Readers appeared first on Kolbe Times.
Interview by Bill Locke
(Click on photos to enlarge)
Gary Groeneveld
Every once in a while you discover someone hidden in your neighborhood with amazing gifts – and who has been quietly using them for years to bring beauty into the world. Gary Groeneveld is one of those people.
We happened upon him last summer, displaying his photographs on his lawn, putting his work out there for anyone who was walking by to enjoy. And enjoy we did! Not only were my wife and I hugely impressed by his wildlife photos, but we also loved hearing Gary’s stories about his adventures out in nature.
I recently was able to sit down and “virtually” chat a bit more with Gary about his passion for using his camera to capture rare moments with so many beautiful creatures. We’re happy to be able to share our conversation here with you, and also share some of his wonderful photos.
Kolbe Times: How did you get into wildlife photography?
Gary Groeneveld: I had taught photography for decades, loved cameras and had a lot of technical skills but then around 1995, something happened by accident. I was driving in the mountains near the Highwood Pass area and I spotted my first grizzly. It was really exciting. He just popped out on the side of the road. I had my camera with me, so I snapped some pictures. Later, I saw him with his mate crossing the Kananaskis Highway. And that’s when I knew I had to record these special moments.
I started learning more about this type of photography, buying special lenses and dragging my family on trips and hiking in the mountains near Calgary. Other times I went on adventures in the wild on my own with my camera to discover all kinds of landscapes, wildlife and environmental corridors in which the animals roamed.
You can hike for years without realizing these animals are around you. You have to learn to see them, to observe how wildlife adapt and survive in their natural surroundings, and have the patience to wait in the woods for hours for them to appear. Gradually, I learned how to look for footprints. I started to really observe the animals, seeing how far I could go with them without interfering. People often did not believe some of the wildlife I encountered, but I had the pictures to prove it.
Kolbe Times: How do you capture such special moments in your photography?
Gary Groeneveld: First I had to relearn photography. You can’t blindly just take pictures and hope it’s going to turn out the way you want. The way I get really good pictures is by anticipating the action. I have to take the picture before it happens, start panning and keep taking a series of photos quickly.
Next, as I mentioned, you have to learn how to really observe, and you can’t be in a rush. Certain photographs that I pictured in my head required waiting years to get the perfect shot. I pay very close attention to the lighting. And I try to match the creature with their landscape. Some animals, for instance, only come out very early in the morning, or live near the top of a mountain and have to be photographed with a telephoto lens.
Kolbe Times: What is it about wildlife photos that seems to touch people, and bring them such joy?
Gary Groeneveld: I think good wildlife photography conveys certain emotions like joy, fear or serenity. Some people have said that my photos capture the soul of the animal, with both the wildness and the tranquility of nature. I’ve noticed that at our workplaces or our offices – and other places that might sometimes be stressful – we want to have a photograph, like a forest picture, to evoke a positive emotion we’ve felt or to remind us of a favourite childhood experience.
I hope my wildlife photos give people a chance to experience the beauty and strength of animals that are hard to find or dangerous to see close up. I think it gives them a sense of awe, a sense of wonder…and certain photos can bring a real sense of peace.
All images courtesy of Gary Groeneveld.
Gary may be contacted at garygroeneveld@gmail.com
To see more of Gary’s photography, visit his website .
The post Beauty in the Wild: The Photography of Gary Groeneveld appeared first on Kolbe Times.