My life is sailing along pretty smoothly these days so I don’t need to keep looking in certain folders on my computer, the ones labeled “Nice Words”. This hasn’t always been the case. During some lonely and unsettling times, I wasn’t sure I could justify taking up space on the planet. Those nice words...
I feel tender toward the uncertain young woman I was when my life seemed to be spinning out of control. I want to tell her things will turn out all right. She’ll survive the crashes. Sometimes she’ll soar. There will never be a day when something good doesn’t happen. She’ll find happiness, not as...
Robin’s daughter, Michelle, once gently reminded me to be patient with people who had not yet wrapped their minds – or hearts – around acceptance for people whose sexuality was different from what they considered “normal”. She was right. She is a wise young woman, and that’s good. Because soon she will be the...
For a long time, I’ve known my communications deficiencies were deeper than being limited to English, with a smattering of French and German. My animal communication skills are weak. (I’ve written about some of my attempts on Catching Courage: Compassion of crows, Participating in a miracle, Standing broad jumps, Black Boy). Sometimes I mess...
Regular readers of Catching Courage will recognize the name of this poem’s author, Marilyn Raymond. This is the sixth of her poems to appear here. The others are Sunflowers, That Apple, Baba Yaga, Sucking on Stones, and Anne. Marilyn wrote the poem for a special Women’s Day service at the Unitarian Fellowship of Kelowna....
Rick Hardman was one of the first people I met at the Unitarian Fellowship when I moved to Kelowna, British Columbia, in 2005. He was full of life and fun and was one of the most active volunteers in the group. He was also a talented poet, who knew how to turn a phrase...
Since I posted a link to it in January 2010, Story of a Sign has been my favorite video ad on YouTube. Now Dream Rangers, which is based on a true story, is competing for that spot. As the short film begins, we see a group of old Taiwanese men gathered around a table....
The playground scene haunts me still. Kathleen stood in the middle of a circle of chanting children. Her eyes were wide, haunted. Her body was taut. The chorus was loud. “I can see London. I can see France. I can see somebody’s underpants.” We all knew the ditty and used it when a boy’s...
I don’t think I paid much attention to gender disparity until high school, when the differences began to annoy me. Boys could wear trousers, but unless the temperature dipped below 20 F., girls had to wear dresses. In all seasons, our bare legs were fair game for the guys who sat in the hallways...
Dave Hingsburger is one of the most gifted wordsmiths I’ve ever come across. I wrote the piece below after watching him spin a magic web around a room full of Vancouver Island educators. Had I not been madly scribbling notes, I’d have sat as motionless as everyone else in the room. The man knows...
When Aunt Alice moved to Twin Falls, Idaho, to be closer to her sisters, my mother* and Aunt Grace**, I expected a drop-dead gorgeous woman to step down from the train. My aunt had traveled all the way from Columbus, Ohio, to be with us. That alone was thrilling. She was from somewhere more...
It was the Baby who brought me safely home. Mother tucked the tiny plaster figure into my hand before she left me alone, in a hospital bed. She couldn’t stay with me. A single mother with two young children had to work. So she told me Baby Jesus would look after me. I clutched...
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