Posted on January 27, 2018 under Storytelling with no comments yet

Milk. Sinful.

( Peter MacDonald photo )

“He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.”

John. 8:7

We’ve all done something and felt guilty about it afterwards. Depending on your religious upbringing, the guilt could last weeks, months and even years.

Harold (*) was a patient at the hospital and was quite ill. Indeed, Harold, after a long and productive life, was more than prepared to meet his maker. He felt that the end was near.

Annabelle (*) was a veteran nurse. She was smart, compassionate… and a noted prankster.

Annabelle was on the night shift. Harold was one of her patients. It wasn’t the busiest night the floor had ever seen but busy enough that Annabelle never had a chance to take a break. On her rounds, she stopped in to see Harold and noticed that he was restless. “I can’t sleep,” said Harold. Annabelle checked the meds chart and noted that there wasn’t anything unusual. “Are you in pain, Harold?” “Not exactly,” came the reply.

After a few rounds of questions, Harold admitted that there was something bothering him, and it wasn’t physical. “I need to see a priest. There’s something I have to get off my chest before I die.”

Having an opportunity for a last confession is the right of the dying and most hospitals go out of their way to accommodate this most important of requests. “Well, Harold, you’re in luck. There just happens to be a priest in the hospital and I can get him for you.” It was well past midnight. “I can take you down to the chapel right away.

There wasn’t a priest within miles of the hospital at this time of night.

Annabelle gently got Harold out of bed and into a wheelchair. They took the elevator down to the darkened chapel. Annabelle turned on one small light at the rear of the chapel. She got to the confessional and carefully got Harold out of his chair and into the small, dark chamber. “I will go and get Father,” said Annabelle.

Harold had a few minutes to review his transgressions. He was a good man and sin of any kind didn’t sit well with him.

A few minutes elapsed when Harold heard footsteps coming into the chapel. Moments later, the priest’s door closed and a screen pulled back. It was impossible for the priest or Harold to see one another with the subdued light in the chapel.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”

There was a long pause as Harold mustered up the courage to confess his sins. “A few nights ago, I was quite thirsty. I was able to make it from my bed to the nurse’s kitchenette. I opened their fridges and helped myself to a glass of milk. It was outright theft. For this, I am truly sorry.”

On the other side of the curtain sat Annabelle. She felt slightly awkward hearing a confession, wondering what punishment the Lord might send her way. When she heard about the theft, she stifled a guffaw, wondering how she would keep from laughing out loud and exposing her deception. She absolved Harold of his heinous crime and asked him to say 3 Hail Mary’s.

Harold was visibly relieved as Annabelle wheeled him back to his room. The guilt had imperceptibly shifted to the shoulders of Annabelle.

Once back in bed, Harold thanked Annabelle profusely for arranging a priest on such short notice…. nothing short of a miracle.

Before turning off the light, Annabelle asked Harold if there was anything she could get for him before he went to sleep.

“A glass of warm milk might help me sleep better.”

Annabelle got one for Harold and fixed one for herself as well.

*Names have been changed…

( Thanks, JT )

Posted on January 25, 2018 under Faces in the Crowd with no comments yet

Brenda’s Best Buddies

 

“Teaching is the greatest job in the world. You can make such a difference in a child’s life.”

Meet Brenda Rose.

Brenda grew up in the Gaspe, the youngest of three children. There was no running water or electricity in the home. Baths took place in a large washtub in the kitchen by the woodstove. When she was four years old, the family moved to Montreal. There were more job opportunities in a big city after the war and her parents wanted her oldest brother to attend high school there. In spite of their lack of education, her parents were aware of its importance and wanted the best for their children.

Her father worked as a pipefitter in the shipyards and her mother did housecleaning for the wealthy folks of Montreal. Her mother would often come home with toys, castoffs from the home owners. Brenda amassed a large collection of dolls and would often line them up and pretend to be a teacher… a precursor of things to come.

A love of music surfaced at an early age and once again, she and her siblings benefited from the largesse of their mom’s employers. Brenda started taking piano lessons around the age of 8. With no piano at home, she practiced on a cardboard keyboard.

The idea of service to others was ingrained in the Rose children from an early age. Brenda knew (and so did the dolls!) from an early age that she was going to be a teacher. She worked at Morgan’s (which eventually became The Bay) which paid for her entire university career. This also developed a strong work ethic.

She attended Sir George Williams (Concordia) University, the educational institution for the working class. She eventually received her B.Ed. from McGill. She taught for 37 years and in many cases, chose schools that served poorer populations. She realized that she could make the biggest impact on those less fortunate.

She raised two small children as a single parent. Both had allergies, especially to fur. It was no surprise then that the children coveted a dog! In 1992, a story appeared in the Montreal Gazette about Greyhound Rescue Dogs. At the urging of her daughters they went to see them. Neither of the children sneezed or coughed. The children pleaded to take one home. “I thought I had died and gone to hell,” quips Brenda.

And so began a love affair with this special breed of dogs.

Brenda and the children did a lot of camping over the years in different parts of Canada including two weeks every summer at Cape Breton Highlands National Park. She decided that when the time came, she would buy some land and retire in Nova Scotia. In 2005, she acquired land in Cape George, sight unseen. She built a home which has become home to Fable and Queenie, her beloved greyhounds. She also babysits for other people’s greyhounds.

Reflecting on her life Brenda comments, “Not everything I did worked out but at least I tried.”

Brenda has rescued the lives of many of God’s creatures … of the two legged and four legged varieties.

 

Fable

Posted on January 22, 2018 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

Just another day in paradise shoveling snow

 

Is it possible to bottle affection?  In the span of two days last week, I attended the biggest wake and funeral in my lifetime. Was it for someone rich and famous? A politician? A rock star? A professional athlete earning gazillion dollars?

No. It was for one of the meekest and kindest human beings ever put on this planet. Make no doubt about it. There was an outpouring of grief for the loss of Bernie Vosman. But there was such joy and celebration of a life well lived. Everyone had a Bernie story… and a few “Bernieisms!”  For someone who couldn’t read or write, he certainly wrote a masterpiece in his 58 years on this earth.

Not surprisingly, the response I got to my tribute to Bernie received the biggest response… ever. I have posted 844 stories on my website over the past five years.  Bernie was a genuine superstar in the eyes of those who knew him. The only difference, is that Bernie didn’t have the inflated ego of people we consider superstars.

From Bernie’s obituary…. We know that Bernie would be pleased if, in his memory, people would follow his example of unbiased judgement and be good to one another.

St. Andrew’s rocks. So does Pomquet, Tracadie, Havre Boucher, Heatherton, Lochaber and several other small communities here and everywhere else in rural Canada. These places know how to host a crowd and treat people properly. With military precision, the women of the C.W.L. in St. Andrew’s hosted a lunch after Bernie’s funeral for a huge throng. It was amazing to see how they were able to feed so many, so quickly. So impressive.

RANT ALERT.

The people who should read this, won’t. So right off the bat, I’m preaching to the converted. And, at the same time, wasting my breath. A carefully chosen rant is therapeutic wouldn’t you say?  I went for my morning walk last week after a snowfall… not a major storm but enough that the crew at our apartment complex ( average age just north of 70 ) were out shoveling sidewalks and cleaning off cars in anticipation of the plow coming later to clean the parking lot.

And school was cancelled.

I was passing a house and the 80 something owner was out labouring with shovel in hand. I happen to know that his wife has been in poor health and there is a good chance that he was taking her for a medical appointment. I asked him how he was. “Terrible” was his response. I passed many other driveways and everyone who was shovelling was old.

And where were the young people who could make a buck and perhaps do something for senior citizens? Probably in bed, “with visions of computer games dancing in their heads. “ I don’t want to tarnish all young people with the same brush but I hear this lament repeatedly. Yeah, yeah, I know. Kids are different today but not going out and helping other people (especially old people) after a storm is indefensible. ( With apologies to the handful that do help out ).

There. I feel much better and will now dismount from my high horse.

I have been to a lot of cafés in my lifetime but not a “death café.” My curiosity was piqued when I saw a promo for a death café to be held at the library this past Saturday. I decided to attend. From what I could gather, it was an opportunity for people to come and discuss death openly, a subject that has been taboo in many cultures since time immemorial. And that’s precisely what it was. There was no formal agenda and certainly no hidden agenda by the organizers. It was simply an opportunity for people from many walks of life to discuss the many aspects of death and dying.

“Faces in the Crowd” will resume this Thursday.

I also have a great story coming up. Betty and I stopped by the Tall and Small for coffee on Saturday morning. We had coffee with two other women, one a retired nurse from St. Martha’s. She told us about something that happened in the old St. Martha’s a long time ago. It was hilarious. Keep your eye out for this one called “The Milk of Human Kindness.”

Have a great week.