Thoughts from Chickadee Lane

For many of us of the Christian tradition, this week marked the beginning Lent. Perhaps you joined an Ash Wednesday service and heard the words “to dust you shall return.” You might have noticed some of your friends with ash on their forehead.   My introduction to Ash Wednesday happened, when as a young adult Protestant, who knew nothing about Catholicism, I told a friend she had dirt on her forehead! And I was trying to be helpful!   Wednesday David and I literally embraced the reality that ‘to dust we shall return’ as we met with our lawyer to update our wills.   This has been something we have talked about for months. If you had asked me if I had an up to date will, that is reviewed every five years, I would have answered, ‘Yes.’ In reality it has been seven years! How easily time slips by.   Updating my will causes me to face my mortality - something I have embraced intellectually, yet to be honest, not so much in my heart. Still the death of three close friends in the past seven m

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon as I settled into writing today’s blog. I was just in from driving a kidney dialysis patient to their home. I do this under the umbrella of Dial a Ride - a program that coordinates volunteer drivers with patients in need of assistance with transportation.   Driving home on this beautiful afternoon, I began to ponder, “Why do I do this?” “What motivates me?” First I had to make a decision, a choice. To stay home or get involved. To stay with the familiar or embrace a new adventure. Over and over my Spirit chooses the unknown… such as writing this blog.   When I head out to pick up a patient, I have a name and address. Often I am not familiar with the street or apartment building entrance. Let’s just say I am getting to know a few more streets and communities.   Driver and passenger are strangers to one another as we meet for the first time when they take a seat in my car. Passengers are trusting me to safely get them to or from their appointments. We

For the past few months I had the sweet, profound and oh so sad Holy honour to join in a long goodbye that ended on Tuesday as friends and family gathered to celebrate the life of one we have known and loved. After a few years of living with cancer, it became apparent that the tide had turned. And as it would return to the sea, it would be taking our friend along.   While we can predict with accuracy when the tide will retreat, when someone dies that moment of retreat is not so predictable. Even as death is marked by a particular moment in time on the clock, the retreat may happen slowly as it did with my friend. I’ve been pondering the many blessings my friend offered in that long goodbye.   When life can often distract us from the inevitability of endings, the gift of a long goodbye gave time to consider my own mortality and what comes next. The gift of a long goodbye gave time for family to experience the gift of nursing in the twilight hours.   The gift of a long goodbye gave time

It seems fitting that on this February 2nd I give a nod to the notorious Groundhog Day Gale of 1976. For those of you who live in southwestern New Brunswick you know about that day. Indeed, one does not have to say much more than, “Remember the Groundhog Day Gale,” and stories bubble forth like fresh spring water. While I was watching for a groundhog shadow in Prince Edward Island, folks in southwestern NB were hunkering down. One neighbour recalls the night the city lights went out. He was working at an industrial site in Saint John. As he crossed the yard heading out to lunch, away went his hard hat. He recalls when a large tank blew over just missing a couple of cars. He remembers how an office window blew out leaving papers flying and ceiling tiles falling. It was surreal in many ways. The only city lights came from a tanker tied up at the harbour.   Not being safe to leave the job site, he stayed the night keeping an eye on things. At 3 am he remembers going to a little snack bar,