As a parent, I've put a lot of pressure on myself to raise my children as good people, in His image with strong morals and values, grace and humility. I understand children learn from example and I've tried to be the best I can. But sometimes, it's all too easy to take things for granted all too often here in Canada. Our family is blessed to have not just the basic necessities covered, but so much more. So much in fact, that it's easy to lose track of just how lucky we truly are. We send our kids to school, buy them treats for their lunch, replace their toothbrushes when needed - all without a second thought.
But we should think twice more often than we do. Please don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I've walked through life just take take taking without giving back. I think I've done a fairly good job with giving in return. But have I done as good a job with instilling this value in my children? I tend to criticize my progress in teaching them graciousness when I hear the whines for new toys or pizza for dinner. So when I recently had the opportunity to help out with the “Fill-a-truck” fundraiser (led mostly by Melissa & AngeLissa), not only did I roll up my sleeves and get to work, but invited my daughter to get involved too. From planning to implementation, she was right there helping out and doing her part. She came with me and sat the in back of a small moving truck in the rain for four hours. She even made thank you cards to give folks who donated items to our event. It was so cold and miserable out that I began to feel a little sorry for her because let's face it, not even I was enjoying sitting in the rain too much. So when my mother called to check in, I gave my daughter an out. “You could go with Nanny if you like. You've done a great job and you've been very helpful.” I said with a smile. I figured sitting in less than desirable weather conditions for a few hours would make anyone (much less a child!) jump at the opportunity to get inside. “No, I want to stay with you Mommy. I want to help the kids in Haiti.” WOW... I felt my own heart about to burst with pride. It was that exact moment when I knew she got it. She understood just how important our event was to kids so far away. Whether we raised $1 or $100, today would prove a powerful day – an important day of learning for both of us. My daughter was absolutely learning graciousness and I learned I was in fact doing an alright job teaching her. And you know, it was easier than I thought. A seemingly small gesture can have tremendous impact. You see, it needn't be a big elaborate event to teach our kids to be grateful. It can be as simple as collecting unwanted clothing from others. She's already asking when we'll do it again. What types of activities have you used to teach grace? I'd love to hear your ideas and suggestions.
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When you graduate you step out into the work world with a little extra bounce in your step, an eagerness to get things going in life and a motivation I can not justifiably describe. You then start carefully selecting specific jobs at specific companies you know are lucky to have you and begin to apply with great expectations of landing the dream job that will spring board your career into hyper-drive. In my particular class, some were fortunate to land a job with wherever they had completed their field placement in the final semester. Others have well connected parents to help get their foot in the door. Some went back to school. I was none of these people. I always knew getting a job out of school would have its challenges and would take a bit of time. What I wasn't prepared for was the actual amount of time it was taking. A few weeks? No. A few months? Nope. A year?! Pretty much. It was pretty much the longest year of my life thus far. I went from selecting jobs that I could see myself doing for a long time, to applying for jobs that might help me get where I wanted to go, to applying for damn near every job in communications that I caught wind of. From jobs I knew I didn't stand a chance at, to jobs I felt over qualified for, I applied to them all. I was putting my application in everywhere praying someone would just consider me for something. Surely I didn't graduate from college only to spend the rest of my days working as the checkout girl in a grocery store. My God, help me. At that rate, I would be 65 before I could pay off my student loan! And then one day I got a call from somewhere I never would have thought. I had applied for a fundraising position covering someones maternity leave only because the final line in the job description expressed how those with high motivation and willingness to learn would be considered even with less experience than others. And well, that was totally me, especially in my desperate attempt to land a job, period. I liked fundraising. It's what I want to do. And I'm doing it currently on a volunteer basis. So I applied. And then I got a call. It was from the Green Party of Canada. I remember thinking, these guys are crazy! Seriously though, you're going to give me an interview for a fundraising position with an election quickly approaching? You honestly think I can fund raise three million dollars in support of Elizabeth May? Am I missing something here? Turns out, they were impressed with my resume enough to ask me to come on down to their office for an interview. I was still in disbelief. I remember telling my hubby, these people are nuts. Why would they waste their time on me? There's no way I come close to qualifying for this position. But an interview is an interview and I can at least use this as an opportunity to fine tune my interview skills. I will use this as a learning opportunity. So I walked into that interview with the mentality that I wasn't going to get this job. I could do no wrong. I was totally relaxed, calm and confident. We talked and laughed and then I left. Four bus tickets, a total of 45 minutes travel time and a 20 minute conversation. But I was feeling pretty good. For once, I felt confident enough in myself that I was able to speak fairly freely and with absolute conviction about the things I feel most passionately. And riding home on the bus, I thought to myself - this was a good choice. Even though I know I won't get this job, the experience was well worth it. It was uplifting to be walk out of a job interview feeling better about yourself than when you walked in. Even with being fully aware I would not the selected candidate. I know you're probably waiting for me to say "And wouldn't you believe it, I got the job!" But I didn't. What I did get though was a thousand times better. I got a phone call the next day, at 7:15 pm informing me that I was not the selected candidate for the position, but they were very impressed with my interview. I had left a lasting impression on them with my demeanor and confidence. It really came down to between me and the chosen one. But that's not all. I was asked to please keep checking back for new opportunities and to use them as a reference if I wanted for my next interview. Really?! How do you get a reference out of an interview? I'm still not sure how that happened... I guess my point here is no matter what you think might be, don't let hesitation hold you back. Had I not gone to that interview, had I hesitated one bit, the experience would have been lost. And this experience gave me that extra belief in myself to keep going. There were definitely some tough times and some low points when I thought about throwing in the towel. And as much as I hate to admit it, there were a few moments when I lost all hope and lost faith in myself. Luckily, I'm surrounded by awesome folks who believed in me helped lift me back up when I was down and out. And for that I am forever grateful. But in the end, it was this extremely positive experience of not getting the job that gave me the self-esteem I needed to walk into my next interview fully confident, nail it and land a job with Parkinson Society Eastern Ontario. When I first started this blog, I thought writing about my experiences from the past, having adequate time to look back and reflect on things, would make it easier to write a more compelling story about my experiences. The idea being with more time to reflect and really think about what I had to learn from these various situations, I would be better able to express my feelings and emotions and thus capture the interest of the audience while passing along some type of life lesson, words of wisdom or revelation.
But now that I've been doing it for a bit, I have to admit it's a little tougher than I thought. Ok, a lot tougher. I thought being able to look back on things would give me this enlightened perspective on life lessons. I thought I would hold a higher sense of wisdom about whatever challenges I had overcome. I thought a whole lot of things, but now that we're down and dirty, in the real knitty gritty, it's friggin tough. Insert life lesson here, I suppose. Isn't this ironic. But seriously though... We're going to fast forward through some parts of my life. Mainly to save time, but also because so much has happened between my second year of school and today that if we don't hurry this along, I will forget about what may be considered more significant details of how or why I am where I am right now. And because some things in life are better left unsaid, some stories better left untold and some things I'm just not ready to reveal or admit. So suck it up buttercup, that's just the way it is. The second year of college was nothing short of a challenge. It was a constant uphill struggle with obstacle after obstacle. I had enrolled my daughter in a french public school for senior kindergarten and we're an english speaking household. My relationship with my life partner was falling apart and it seemed no matter what we did to try to save it, things just kept getting worse. I had put an enormous amount of pressure on myself to remain on the Dean's Honour List and graduate with Honours. I also had this unrealistic expecation that I could attend school full-time, work part-time, keep up with all the stereo-typical female roles in the household and by that I mean cleaning, laundry and cooking, AND spend what I considered an ample amount of time with my daughter. The level of stress and tension I inflicted on the household was pretty close to unbearable. In fact, it became so unbearable by springtime that my crumbling marriage finally dissolved. But this decision we thought was best for everyone ended up being the most difficult time of my life. And while I can't speak for the other party involved, I can only assume it was hard on him as well. It took every ounce of strength I could find to slap on a smile and keep moving forward. I told the world I was fine when I was dying inside. Some time apart is all you need sometimes to see things from a new perspective and in a new light. To be grossly cliche, absence makes the heart grow fonder and time apart is exaclty what we needed to realize exactly how much we meant to each other. So by the time commmencement rolled around (end of June), we had resolved our differences, for the most part and started anew...stronger than ever and committed for the rest of our lives. Speaking of commencement... It's no secret how important it was to me to graduate with Honours. Looking back, I hate to admit, it's not really as important as I had once beleived. I think graduating period is an accomplishment in itself and very honourable. I had this belief that graduating with Honours would make others see me as more intelligent and or more worthy. And without going into much detail or opening up a can of worms that I don't particularly feel like dealing with, let's just say, in my mind, attaching Honours to my diploma meant acceptance by others. I was wrong. It doesn't matter. Not as much as I thought it would. In fact, it was pretty silly to put myself through all that stress and pressure just to graduate with a title that doesn't carry as much weight as I did trying to attain it. But, that's not to say I'm not proud of it. I'm damn proud. I worked my @ss off for that diploma. And while I'm fully aware that everyone has their own battles, their own obstacles and challenges, thier own stories...so do I. I climbed a friggin mountain for two years, an uphill struggle where failure was not an option and perservered with flying colours. Now those colours, that rainbow I get to dance in at the tip of the mountain peak, it shines gloriously upon my face. Basking in the glory of accomplishment means it should get easier now. I made it to the top, so it's all downhill from here, right? Boy oh boy, how naive was I?! The start of the second year of college was excitingly new, yet comfortably familiar. You could feel the excitement in the room as everyone arrived. Hugs and laughter, smiles and handshakes. It was obvious how close so many had become the previous year, forging friendships that will most likely last a lifetime. They had made reference last year to our class being a family, ACPR family. And it couldn't be more true. Just watching everyone reconnect...how happy they were. It gave you a sense of belonging. I enjoyed observing these reunions and soaked in the enthusiasm and commotion.
For me, the most exciting part was knowing in just eight short months, I'd be a college graduate. I could hardly wait. I was so tired of working retail. And I mean no offense to anyone who works retail, enjoys it, supports their family or has made a living from it. But for me, it had lost all appeal and novelty a long time ago. I just could not fathom spending the rest of my days working as a cashier in a grocery store. It somehow made me feel irrelevant to the world. And I wanted to feel worth something. Not that I felt worthless, don't get me wrong here. But in my heart I knew I was meant for something more. And I just couldn't wait to find out what it was. And neither could many of my peers. It was a state of mind very common for the second year students, and our program coordinator gently reminded us to slow down, remain calm, focus on our schooling and control our anxious selves. We all saw the light at the end of the tunnel. For many of us, that light was mesmerizing and we just couldn't wait to dance in its beams. But as confident as we felt at the time, there was still much for us to learn. Thus, we fell from cloud nine, planted our feet back on the ground and got to work as our professor casually proclaimed this would be the toughest semester of the program. So ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat-belts and keep all extremities inside the moving vehicle at all times. This was going to be one hell of a ride. And I could hardly wait. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly children grow and learn. I feel as though every time I turn around my daughter is mastering something new. It sure doesn't take long. It feels like just yesterday she was learning to walk and now, she's heading into her second year of school. Where did the time go?!
Senior kindergarten. Wow. Remember how anxious we all were about her first day of school; how nervous I felt watching her climb those big steps getting on the school bus for the first time; how eager I was to hear all about the very first day of school? Looking back, the growth she went through from the first to the last day of junior kindergarten, is nothing short of amazing. I could go on and on about it too, but for those of you with children, you already know exactly what I'm talking about. And for those of you who don't (yet), you've now been forewarned at the phenomenal speed in which your baby will develop and mature in ten short months. So, savor every moment. Now, with the first year of school under both of our belts, we decided to throw a little spice in to the mix. Let me explain a bit first. I have yet to marry the father of my daughter. Logically, this means we have different last names. When our daughter was born, we agreed she would take her father's last name, and my last name was given as her middle name. In fact, before we even knew the gender of our child, we had agreed to this last name middle name concept. Because my last name is Quinn (a good Irish name!), it worked out nicely no matter what the given name should be. Plus, it doesn't hurt that it means “intelligent”. Her last name, however, is French. Now, I think if your last name is French (and you happen to live in the nations capital of a bilingual country) you should know how to speak the language. Her father does, although he doesn't speak French as often as he used to because I am not fluent in the language. But I should be. And so should our daughter. Entre the spice. We made a decision near the beginning of her second year of school, to register our daughter in a full French school. Giving her the opportunity to become fluently bilingual was important to me. I wasn't and I know first hand how difficult it can be to qualify for employment being uni-lingual in a bilingual city. I wanted to give my child every opportunity to learn and excel; to unlock as many doors as possible; to give her as many opportunities as possible to be her best and most successful in life. That's part of our job right? As the parents? And it's not like she had never exposed to the French language prior to this decision either. We both have french speaking relatives in our family. Every family function, she's at least hearing the language. Plus, we started speaking French at the table during dinner time. And so, it was like the very first day of school all over again. Only this time, it felt like we were sending her to another planet. And I'm sure, she must have felt the same. It was a sink or swim type of experiment, I suppose. What better way to teach a child a new language than to submerge them completely?! We were either doing something great or insanely stupid. Please Lord, tell me I'm doing the right thing here. His silence tells me but one thing. Have faith. Only time will tell. |
Shauna QuinnNo stranger to taking the road less travelled, I must admit those not so great choices made me who I am and led me to where I am right now, which happens to be exactly where I am supposed to be. Archives
July 2018
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