Country Living

Country life is growing on me.

This is my seventh year living in Canada and I can recall being told many times that small town, rural living would not be for me.

“Everyone will be in your business,” “racism and bigotry is rampant in small town Alberta,” “that kinda life is not for you – it is too quiet, boring, nothing much to do,” were some of the reasons well-meaning people gave me.

As the saying goes, “circumstances alter cases,” that is exactly what happened. The circumstances of my life changed a few years back and with that I was confronted with having to make choices that would not normally be my first preference.

For example, in 2005 the trajectory that I was following would have led to a doctorate and professorial position, teaching and supporting students in Clinical Pastoral Education.

“Life is what happens to you when you are busy making other plans,” is what John Lennon said and he should know!

The thesis is still incomplete three years later and although there have been some stirrings in me to get back to it; they have not been sufficiently strong to move me towards the memory stick that has the draft.

Hospital wards and surgeries no longer appeal to me in the way they did in 2005/2006. After been almost completely burnt out by too many late night calls to death beds or the morgue, it was not hard to admit that my attitude towards death and dying was not compatible with that of most that I was meeting.

One thing is for sure, at the core of my being I am a Chaplain. However, what Life clarified for me was that ‘call’ can manifest in many shapes and forms.

Nearly two years after following that ‘call’ through the gates of a prison, with a deep sense of knowing that physically I was in the environment that was much more relevant to my personal experiences, professional and personal growth was still somewhat lagging.

You know it is time to move on; at least I do, when going to work in the morning is a chore and a bother, when you are simply doing it for the pay cheque. It is time to move on when the walls of the place you once called home begins to close in on you and feels more like a cell. There was more growing for me to do and impatience was setting in.

Turning points in my experience are usually revealed almost on the deadline. It was less than a week to the closing date when I saw the posting for the job that would lead me the rural Alberta.

Along with the words of encouragement there were words of discouragement. For every person who wished me all the best – both on the competition and when the offer for the job came – there was one who asked me whether I was sure the facility, the job and the small town was for me.

“No, I am not sure,” was basically my response, “but when are we ever?”

Actually, the ‘sure things’ in my life thus far have turned out to be the least certain. And truthfully, my greatest growth has come when I take the proverbial leap of faith and let God be God in my experience.

Three years, almost, after that turning point when “Life happened,” and when my request was to be let off but The Divine said “Hang in there baby, we are going for a ride,” here I am:

Married to my fellow sojourner and wounded healer, enjoying my career and being paid very well to use my faculties to help others with the trajectory of their own lives within the rule of law and drawing on spiritual principles, and co-owner of a beautiful home (almost 3,000 sq. ft) in small town Alberta.

Truth be told, maybe there is not much to do in my little village. Maybe there are some intolerant people among the less than 1,000 who reside in my neck of the woods. It is definitely quiet here - except for the chirping of the birds, the barking of village dogs (and my two chime in gladly) and the occasional tractor or plow chugging down the street on a Saturday morning.

However, we took possession of our home in mid-May and not only am I catching up on time lost commuting to work (from 3-4 hours a day to 1 hour now) but the fresh air, tinged with cow manure (LOL) is doing me a world of good.

As Oprah would say “what I know for sure,” is that it is easy to live with regrets and hard to move on – gently holding the past and hopefully head into the now.

That balancing act is trying still to this day but when it gets too much to handle, now I have my garden to retreat to.

Each day I give thanks, silently or in a song like this one:




Blessings from a small town in Alberta,


Claudette

Land of My Birth - Part Two

A laptop that would not turn on is to be blamed for my not producing before now Part Two of the post “Land of my Birth.”

Not having a computer proved not to be such a bad thing, however, as I got to focus on a few other things that was percolating in my life and around me.

The global economic melt down has finally arrived in all its glory here in Calgary, Alberta and this city which was once proud of its oil money has had to take stock. The news is replete of stories about the numbers of people losing their jobs – last count it was about 15,000+ in this province. Housing starts and housing sales have decreased and the Alberta government recently announced new taxes to meet the deficit – something that this province has not had in 10 years.

News of gloom and doom funny enough has the potential to either scare the daylights out of you or funny enough inspire. “When the going gets tough, the tough gets going.”

That is what I saw in Jamaica back in February (2009). As I listened to the morning talk shows, the news and looked around me, I shook my head in amazement.

It felt as if time had stood still since I left the island back in 2002. Truthfully, it felt like the country was in a time warp since the 1990’s. The problems were the same, the politics had not changed either, except for a few changes in the players, and the conversations were the same.

The strength of the people had not changed either. Everyone was busy trying to keep things together. There were some brave ones, like our hostess, who had started new businesses on faith. Then there were those who had their hands stretched out, demanding that you put something in it – something of a significant money value.

Listening to Wilmot Perkins, one of Jamaica’s most popular radio talk show host, I thought to myself “the more things change, the more they stay the same,” – a mantra he loves to repeat. I tuned into the conversations on “The Breakfast Club,” a morning radio talk show and things were the same – almost stagnant, near dead.

The Jamaican government it seemed was in the early stage of grief – denial.

Everyone else was saying and seeing that despite the achievements in say highway construction, the infrastructure on the island is crumbling. Crime and violence was at its usual high level. A true picture of the unemployment levels is not possible as so many people are ‘hustling’ to keep afloat.

Several of my Jamaican Facebook friends have been coming up with some ideas and suggestions as to how we in the Diaspora could help our island home. Even that has not changed – after all these years and millions of dollars in remittances – Jamaicans abroad are still trying to figure how to save Paradise.

My Canadian-born husband fell in love with Jamaica soon after we landed. By the time we got to our hostess’ home in New Kingston, he was purchasing property. Ten days later, as we lounged in Negril, Robert had purchased a small hotel and opened a recording studio!

I wished it was that easy – and if it was almost 2 million (if not more) Jamaicans would not be living outside of the island all across the world.

For my part, I tried to picture myself living on the island again and honestly could not. The lawlessness was beyond anything I could tolerate and it was everywhere – the most evident one for me is the traffic laws which were almost completely ignored.

Outside of its natural beauty, which is second to none in the world, little else inspired me in Jamaica to make it my home again.

Back in cold Alberta, seeing signs of the global economic melt down right on my door steps, I am on the contrary inspired – so much so that this past week Robert and I closed a deal on a home.

I love Jamaica no less, but when the going get tough, the tough do indeed gets going. For that effort to be productive there must be an environment that engenders productivity that is guided by social order that supports the effort and leaders who inspire and lead from the front.

While Jamaica will always be the Land of my Birth, sadly that is simply what it will remain – at least for a long time to come.

Blessings,


Claudette