Canada Saga 2013 - September 10

"Shall we make a new rule of life?...Always try to be kinder than necessary." (J.M. Barrie) "At the end of the day, the equation is in favor of what is good and what is human and what is giving instead of what takes away." (Veronique Pozner, mother of 6 year old Noah, of Newtown Ct.) Caroline called tonight. It must've been a stressful day, because she hung up when she heard me say, "Caroline!" Usually she laughs nervously and answers when I ask how she and her husband are doing. But she gets embarrassed sometimes, and hangs up abruptly. Last year, my cell phone would ring two or three times a day, for weeks on end, always from the same number, and a woman would ask: "Is Mary there?" I would tell her, in the beginning just as information, eventually with an edge to my voice, that there was no Mary at the number, never had been in the 15 years I've had it. My number wasn't even close to the number she was trying to dial. Finally, I called HER number and left a lengthy message on her voicemail, repeating that I had the cell phone number for many years, there wasn't a "Mary" at the number, never had been, and I would appreciate it if she would be more careful dialing. An hour later, the phone rang again from the same number. For some reason, I didn't answer the way I wanted to, which was in anger, but simply said, "Hello," waiting for the routine to begin. Because it felt like some sort of comedy routine, scripted out already, where I was just playing a part. This time, however, I heard an elderly male voice apologizing for his wife, who had had a stroke some months back, and was having difficulty with numbers. Mary was their daughter, who lived not too far away, and helped her mother. We had a lovely chat, in which I found out that he was 83 years old, and wasn't well either. I asked for his wife's name, since this was clearly going to be a relationship, rather than a wrong number, and for his daughter's phone number, in case Caroline ever needed it. Since then, whenever I see her phone number, I smile, remembering what her husband told me: "Well, at least you're a lot nicer than the OTHER lady whose number she's been calling." It's nice to ask Caroline how she's doing, how her family is, and to try to put her at ease, because she's always a bit embarrassed when she hears my voice. Sometimes I don't answer, knowing she'll get the message, and sometimes she hangs up when she hears me. I don't think of her calls as 'wrong numbers,' anymore. Whenever I call my brother, he answers the phone, before even saying hello: "Is everyone alright?" - a light-hearted reminder that we've all received our share of calls with troubling news. Every year for the last four or five years, we've attempted to stay longer on the island, to experience the shorter days and cooler weather, and some of the changing colors. Every year, for the last four or five years, some event has called us home sooner, usually with a phone call: an illness, a death, a hurricane. This year, again, we are scheduled to return to Louisiana on October 1, so each time the phone rings with a Louisiana area code, I breathe deeply before I answer. There are so many moments in life when we want our calls to be wrong numbers, when our bodies go rigid as our minds and hearts resist what we're hearing. That couldn't possibly have really been an ER nurse telling me Michael had a heart attack and was being rushed into surgery. My brother-in-law couldn't really have terminal cancer. My young cousin, caring for her elderly mother and aunt, couldn't have been the one who died suddenly that Saturday night. Michael's cousin couldn't be losing his second kidney. That wasn't really my sister on the phone telling me that my brother had been murdered the night before. Goodness calls us, too, on a daily basis. We hear voices of family and friends, near and far, who remind us, even with a simple "Hello," that we are loved. My friend always answers the phone with a warm, "Hi, Dear!" And that's how I feel when I hear her: dear and cherished by her. Two words. A world of well-being. I remember Michael's mother calling and saying that she was 'lonesome' for his voice. She was a strong feisty woman, who in just a few words exposed her vulnerability, and whose spirits could be raised just by hearing a few words from her son - very few, since she did most of the talking. Tchich Nhat Hahn, the beautiful Vietnamese teacher, suggests that our words are jewels, and we should choose them carefully, just as scripture tells us to dwell on "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable...excellent or praiseworthy..." In this way, we are "called" to remembrance, that faint stirring of the echo in the heart where we turn to our Source, and recognize who we are, and the Voice which has called us. It's a testament to our human hope and resilience that our first reaction to troubling news is one of shock and disbelief. The world is too filled with goodness for these 'bad' things to be happening, seems to be the message. It's a grace that we're still appalled, dismayed and shocked by tragedy and inhumanity. We are elevated and full-hearted when we hear stories of kindness and compassion, because they resonate deeply. This is our core nature. "Nothing is too wonderful to be true," Michael Faraday wrote, in his thought-provoking play with words. Tomorrow we leave for the Sunshine Coast, an area on the West coast of the mainland that we haven't visited. Along the way, we'll be on yet another boating trip, this one through the Princess Louisa Inlet, and we'll hike to the reverse tidal falls in the Provincial Park there. It will be our final adventure of the summer, as if being on the island each day isn't an adventure in itself - as if being alive each day isn't a miracle and a gift. We just may make it to October after all. Please hold your calls. YAY GOD.