Rachel’s story

Nancy and I lived across the street from each other for 16 years of our lives. We played hide and seek with the six boys on the block and once a week we played house in her basement. Nancy got to be the one to feed the babies, clean and iron while I took a hat and jacket and went to the furnace room, at work. Nancy’s house, her rules. My basement had a cool big box that the neighbours piano had been shipped in. Ping pong, forts and playing in the field and creek made for great adventures and a lifetime friendship.

Nancy was diagnosed with breast cancer and I couldn’t be there with her. I mailed my big rabbit, Rachel, to her to be a good listener and a soft hug through chemo and radiation treatments. When Nancy recovered and was feeling good again, she mailed Rachel back to me with customs label- contents: rabbit, value: $100.00. When the box with Rachel arrived, Customs Canada labels had charged duty and customs tariffs for $35.00.

I work as a conflict resolution teacher so you might think I would handle this with a level of skill and diplomacy? wrong. I called customs to give them a piece of my mind. Luckily, the office was closed. Good for both of us. I wrote a letter to customs describing Rachel and what she was doing in Minnesota with Nancy. I said she was returning to Canada, her home as she was Canadian. I proposed several choices, bringing the box down to customs to open it and they could see a used stuffed rabbit, no duty required. I could mail Rachel unopened back to Minnesota and drive her across the border in the summer, no one would know she was there. I suggested 10 choices and finally awaited their response.

The following week, I received a call on my answering machine, ‘This is Customs Canada, please let Rachel out of the box.’ The following week, I received mail addressed to Rachel % in care of Martha McManus. ‘Dear Rachel, We are sorry we did not recognize you as a returning Canadian resident. In the future, please travel with the attached papers to assist as you cross the border. Please accept our apology.’ It was signed by an official of Customs Canada with attached documents in Rachel’s name, no duty, official Canadian residence documents.

Eight months later, I was paying duty for books I ordered and I was talking with a gentleman who was also at customs, importing Irish lace. We remarked at how helpful customs agents were. I mentioned my experience with Rachel, and the agent helping me, leaned across the counter and asked excitedly, ‘Are you Rachel’s mom?’ She said they use Rachels story in training customs agents and Rachel and I went down to the Harry Hayes building for photos in a custom newsletter.

For years, I have told Rachel’s story in classes on negotiation. Rachel has gone on to spend many months with others who needed her support in medical and emotional times. The above photo is one Rachels now healthy friends.

The First Peace….

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The first peace, which is the most important, is that which comes within the souls of people when they realize their relationship, their oneness, with the universe and all its powers, and when they realize that at the center of the universe dwells Wakan-Tanka , and that this center is really everywhere, it is within each of us. This is the real peace, and the others are but reflections of this. The second peace is that which is made between two individuals, and the third is that which is made between two nations. But above all, you should understand that there can never be peace between nations until there is known that true peace, which, as I have often said, is within the souls of men.

Little Red

Do you suffer from Little Red Hen syndrome?

As the story goes, Little Red acquired some wheat seeds and decided to plant them. She tilled the soil, planted the seeds, watered, weeded the shoots, managed the plants, and when the wheat crop was grown, she harvested the wheat, ground the wheat….and finally bake a lovely loaf of bread.

I expect she ate the whole blasted loaf herself, a frustrated overeater who was upset that no one helped her. Actually, Little Red did ask for help and did not get any help.

My Little red syndrome is embedded in my DNA in my early life, ‘do it self ’, informing my family that at 2 years old I was competent to do anything I wanted to do.

As time wore on, that fine line of asking for and or receiving help was lost on me. When my (now ex) husband did not mow the yard, cook, or clean up, do laundry; I did not ask. I was competent; I could do it, and quite well thank you very much.

Now there is nothing wrong with being self-reliant and competent. I think in the original story, Little Red did share her bread with her little chicks. It is only a problem when it is out of balance. Moving? My friends would offer, need any help? No, I could pack boxes, clean cupboards, drive the rental van…..When friends did help I felt that I was abusing their friendship. Or at the very least reciprocate in kind. “I am here to help you move, even if you are not moving.”

It wasn’t until I injured my ankle for a third time, that I got the lesson. The first damage was a bad sprain, the next, a break, then finally a severe break to the same ankle. While I did all the bone density tests, dealt with physiotherapy and handled casts and crutches; I happened upon a Louise Hay book. The book on healing yourself described different ailments, diseases, injuries and what spiritual meaning could be connected there. Broken ankle and leg related things were connected to support. The leg-ankle-foot support for the rest of the body makes sense. She asked, ‘do you have support in your life? And she offered affirmations to be open to support and be flexible in life.

There it was, support. I was so busy being strong and capable, I not only did not ask for support, I declined it at times when it was offered. I began to read about other ways of being and shifted perceptions enough to understand that I enjoyed helping others and by not allowing or welcoming or even inviting help and support I was depriving others of the good feeling of helping.

Adding insult to injury. Little Red me, was not asking, teaching or allowing my three sons to step up and be responsible for the home, cooking, cleaning, yard stuff, etc… It was not about me, it was about sons growing up as adult males, capable and skilled in all the tasks of life they would need to do.

I am not sure if little red hen took it upon herself to learn ways to work collaboratively with the rest of the barnyard. How to ask for help, reciprocate, teach her little chicks the skills she had in growing wheat and baking? All I know is that the teachable moment of reading Louise Hay’s book on physical problems and deeper meaning changed my life. I am happy to say that I have balance in my life, asking for and welcoming support and offering it to others. There is still a niggling feeling as I see my neighbour shovelling my walk before I get out there. I try to balance the shovelling, and I bring thank you butter chicken when I have leftovers to share.

Between being entirely competent and self-reliant to being unable to look after myself and in need of full support; I hope of the continuum to find balance. I am grateful for the wonderful help and support that comes my way. I am happy when I can help and support others, and my children can clean cook, and even iron. All is well with the world.