Giving Tuesday

Sitting in the local Timmies eating a meal provided by a dear friend, who gave me a gift card, I peruse the local Times Colonist newspaper. I find an article of inspiration, which moved me to dedicate the space of my blog to what is called: Giving Tuesday.

The article is by Sandra Richardson, CEO of the Victoria Foundation.

I have simply shared it on my blog, including links, in hope that it motivates other to become involved.

Happy Giving everyone!

~ TL Alton  

Vital People: Time to give back on Tuesday

SANDRA RICHARDSON

NOVEMBER 27, 2016 05:20 AM

The day after tomorrow, Nov. 29, is Giving Tuesday all across Canada. Hot on the heels of two of the busiest shopping days of the year, it marks the unofficial opening of the holiday giving season, bringing together individuals, companies and charities to support the causes that matter to them.

The movement started in 2013 and has grown each year. Thousands of Canadian businesses and organizations are participating in 2016. Activities range include fundraising campaigns, volunteerism efforts, blood drives, food drives, corporate giving efforts and more. The goal is to bolster the health and wellbeing of our communities, while giving people a chance to take a break from the focus on consumerism.

The Victoria Foundation was an early-adopter of the fledgling movement, and for the fourth year in a row, we’re running our popular “unselfie” contest that asks people to share a photo of their giving in action. All entries are posted on our Facebook page, and eligible to win one of two $500 donations to the winner’s charity of choice.

With thousands of Canadian companies and organizations already involved, Nov. 29 should provide options for just about anyone looking to give back amidst the flurry of spending. The fact is, there are thousands of charity organizations the world over, many of which are located right here, near you. Every single one of them could use your help, so why not take this opportunity to do something special for someone in need?

Volunteer your time to help. Offer your expertise to those that need it. Donate to a cause you care about. Find something that moves you, and take that first step. However you choose to celebrate the day, I hope you’ll share your story by entering this year’s unselfie contest and give yourself the opportunity to reward a local charity even more.

Visit victoriafoundation.ca to enter, or to find more information on how to get involved.

And if you’re looking for deserving local charities to support, take a look at the Victoria Community Knowledge Centre at ckc.victoriafoundation.bc.ca. You’ll find hundreds of charity profiles, complete with photos, videos and more.

Sandra Richardson is CEO of the Victoria Foundation.

A Beam of Light in the Corners of Darkness

So Trust, so Conquer, so Joy... Love colours the way... Love takes the sting out of the wind of adversity.  

 Observation is defined as: an act or instance of regarding attentively or watching. It requires oneself to set aside their own awareness while projecting it onto others. A writer knows that around every corner, there is a chance their next main character for their book, maybe revealed.

Spilling over to my perception of others and my surroundings, I once had a retired Ontario Police officer teach me skills of driving, which gave me insight.

This past week, day in and out, my life saw my feet walk in the steps of others. I let the broken voices echoing across the continent release their hardship into mine. In doing this, I was aware of my environment and could freely serve others. Whether it was praying over those in need or taking the time to engage conversation with people, I did something I have struggled with…I listened with all my senses. Not only to the voices of individuals but also to God speaking to me.

To clarify there never have been any burning bushes or dark cloudbursts where the Lord appeared to me. Nor have I seen the face of Jesus in the cup of my Timmies.

I became aware of communication between God and I when He called me to salvation…since then, God has never stopped calling me and in doing so, I was put into ministry for Him. In previous blogs, I have shared of many God-driven moments where I was called upon to speak with someone, intervene or simply pray over a person. To understand the enormity of this, God took one of the most flawed, broken sinners and said Yes, you will do just fine! 

Many years ago, when I was washed in the water of Baptism, I believed I would have a thousand angels on my side and life would be so much easier. Truth is, I would suffer massive tragedies, losses, and sacrifice things that I loved. What made all of the difference was having my faith to guide me. Taking hold of me was ultimate healing and receiving the spoken word, with my soul on fire. This revelation may surprise others who see me as labels. When I look in the window of The Salvation Army, I see a woman who is forgiven, blameless and redeemed.

This week, while others gathered in prayer for me, I let myself be guided to those who boldly remind me…I am most fortunate in my circumstances.

Reading Global news, I discovered a true warrior, who resides in Edmonton.

10 yr old Rheanna Trepanier fell ill on Halloween. To the anguish of her family, it was discovered while in treatment in Hospital that she has four tumours and only has a few months to live. Now, she and her family are planning to live out the bucket list Rheanna has created. A piece of canvas, displays vivid colours, where this brave care-free spirit painted her hands and placed upon the surface; a memento for her family to treasure.

Everything from artwork to planned trips sees her resilience cast away fear, as this young girl has much to do. 

By the time I have finished reading the article, my tired eyes are brimming with tears. I have lived 45 years in this world, not all have been easy, but I LIVED. A decade of existence is going to end for Rheanna and yet I see this little girl as unbreakable.

All I can do from afar is wrap my prayers around this child. Even when the pain seems too overwhelming for her, I won`t stop sending love to Rheanna and her family.

The other day, as I drove through the city, I stopped at the lights. On the corner, beside my vehicle there stood an elderly woman, bent over- her body resembling an ancient gnarled oak. I could see the rain transfer onto her translucent skin. Her knuckles resembled mini tree knots, while her grey curls were matted with droplets, from the sky. I felt called to pray for her…someone`s grandmother, whose body held stories of a life lived. 

In the evening, walking past a doorway I saw two First Nations people settling onto the dampness of the broken cement. I watched as the woman picked up a slew of garbage, as if she was cleaning the front porch of her home. Her companion waited patiently and as they went to lay down, he lovingly took his jacket and placed it upon her. Huddled together, amongst the soggy cigarette butts, they did not look like they had anything worthy. Yet through my eyes, I observed the deep bonds of devotion to one another. 

As well, I envisioned their ancestors, settling into caverns of geographical nature, amongst a canopy of sugar maples and clusters of wildflowers. The roots that grow deep and unite still remain, though circumstances have changed. 

While writing my last blog post at the local McDonald`s, someone caught my attention. They had long wisps of hair, with a crown of silver that reminded me of a halo. I observed their ensemble as a wave of black draped over a tiny frame. My eyes fell upon their shoes…or inventive display of footwear. Once a pair of flip-flops, each sole flowed in duct tape, wrapped around each foot. Only after taking a tattered envelope and counting what change they had, did they whisper their order to the cashier. I could not take my eyes off of them as I gazed down upon my own shoes, wishing I had an extra pair to gift. I bowed my head in prayer for this unknown stranger over their shortcomings. I reflected on the day when freedom will all be ours and we walk in love and peace together. 

There is no condemnation in the people I have written about, as they do serve a glorious purpose; each a reminder that in strength we conquer.

While suffering has a purpose in this world, I believe clipped wings can grow again… whether in the earthly world or heaven bound, He is our Refuge.

By TL Alton 

The Guarding Hands of Grieving Hearts

This week I have let the shawl of remembrance drape my exposed soul; the layers of disclosure I have bared are thrust aside.

On a day when the horizon was patchy with amber hues and white streaks, I ventured to a place I often go…the cemetery. It is amongst this man-made land of trees, granite and pillars of marble I am found. Sitting along the rows of names, next to a young lady I have never met, I pay my respects to a friend’s daughter. Initially, the death of our children united us and then over time, our friendship has been built on things unrelated to loss.

When I leave, my car unhurriedly carries on. Driving the narrow lane, I unexpectedly stop to notice the endless white crosses with poppies, thrust into autumn’s ground. Each one signifies those who fought in one or many more wars. 

I reach for my own poppy and placing it on a soldier’s grave — give thanks for my freedom. 

Today, I walked and joined a sea of others; veterans, soldiers, cadets, Royal Canadian Mounted Police and widows in a collaboration of remembrance. 

 

Watching the parade of cadets reminded me of my daughter who was part of the Air cadets for seven years. 

As we stood in silence, I noticed a veteran in front of me. I thought about his battles, the death he had witnessed and the wars his feet had been entrenched in. When Rouse was performed, I saw him stand at attention and raise his hand up in respect. To the left of him was a family gathered and a little brown-haired boy, with dimples. He was no more than 4 years old and watched attentively the veteran in his stance. Wandering over, he did his best to stand straight in front of the military man. In one instant, the little boy captured the veteran’s admiration, when he raised his small hand and saluted the man. I could see the reaction on the elderly man’s face soften as he was overcome with emotion. Those around, including the little boy’s parents were affected by the simple, yet profound gesture.

Shortly after a poem was read aloud.

Back in 2014, Mr. Gordon Moore, Dominion President of The Royal Canadian Legion, announced the winners of the Legion’s Poster and Literary Contest.

Intermediate Poetry winner Jordan Pomeroy of Placentia, Nfld. was amongst those chosen.

Two years later, Jordan’s poem was read today at the Remembrance Day service in Langford, British Columbia.

I Remember…

I remember the fear in my best friend’s eyes, guns firing at our troops.

I saw him cringe as the bullet tore through his body and he fell to the ground.

My vision blurred with disbelieving tears as I fell to my knees by his side.

I looked into his eyes, but they did not look the same.

The eyes of death-that’s what they were.

I remember the natural scent in the air

It should have reminded me of childhood.

The smell of tress, pine and fresh air

But this scent was different.

It was full of smoke, mixed with my best friend’s last breath.

A faint chirping, just like Sunday morning birds,

But it didn’t sound the same.

The sound of death-that’s what it was.

I remember touching my friend’s cold hands and forehead,

My hands disappearing into a cold muddy ground.

The morning dew soaking my uniform

And slow tears rolling down my face.

I remember carrying the body of a man who used to be my best friend

Wishing someone would shoot me.

But he was heavy…he didn’t feel the same.

The weight of death-that’s what it was.

I remember tasting the tears rolling down my face,

The mud seeping through my lips.

The rain falling from the sky like water from a tap.

I remember tasting food at his funeral,

Food that should have been savoury, mouth-watering.

But it didn’t taste like anything.

The taste of death-that’s what it was.

By Jordan Pomeroy

As the three flags on their posts were lifted by a the wind, my thoughts were diverged. I thought of the First World War beginning in 1914 and to our current state of affairs in 2016. In the 102 years that have come to pass and 112, 174 lives lost…what have we really learned about world peace?

Now, lingering in the air, is a genuine fear that threatens to add more lives to wars… yet to be fought.

By TL Alton