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I shall not die this way..I am Canadian ehh !

18 Jan 2016 2 Comments

by Katz in My short stories-Creative non fiction Tags: Canada, canadianwinters, death, Frost, God, growing up onthe east coast, Labrador, neardeath, Newfoundland, Ontario, slidingonice, slipperyroads, snowyweather, winter

Being Canadian I expect snow and ice in the winter, a lot of it; and rarely does it ever frighten me, till today that is. Things are now different, possibly forever as today I thought I was going to die, really die!

I was surprised to see snow when I went outside this morning to warm up my seventeen year old Toyota Corella; a small gas efficient, reliable beater whose tiny engine coughs and sputters even in -1 below weather. The new fallen snow perhaps the second or third dusting of winters breath so far this year as we have been getting “a mild one in Ontario” as they would say. We had a green Christmas too which is not the norm but not a first for me having lived in Ontario since my late teens; winter here tends to be unpredictable and you never really know what to expect day to day.

I was running behind this morning, as usual, so I didn’t even have time for my five minutes of CP24. I hardly ever watch the news except in the morning to see what going on out there on the roads before I leave for work, however today I had no time. I remember reading someone’s post on Facebook last night about how the temperature would drop and how it was going to get cold overnight but I did not see anything about snow fall.

With no jacket I began to brush the foam like snow off my car, “it was cold what was I thinking!” I laughed a little as I thought to myself “get over it girl; you grew up in Labrador ehh! This is nothing!” I continued to brush off my car as I traveled back in my mind to my youth and thought about the thick snow covered roads and mountains of snow I would wake up to see as a child. Overnight the winds would howl and the frost always so thick on the windows you could not even see outside once the coldness reached November each year. I remember the frost thick inside the windowpanes as well as outside, crystallized beauty and creativity crackled in such a way only Mother Nature had the skill to create. As kids we would use out hot breath to carve out a small peep hole to try and see what was going on outside in hopes we had another snow day to look forward too. The wrath of winter often would result in high snow drifts blown up against every second story window of every house on my street, having to get shoveled out just to get to school. Yes I was born and bred a true Canadian accustomed to real winters having grown up in Newfoundland and Labrador, this really was nothing, “I must be getting old.”

Since leaving home at the age of eighteen I rarely have experienced a harsher winter than Labrador, unless going home for Christmas of course. Winter can be cold and yucky here too but to compare the two you would say Toronto (GTA) is the Florida of Canadian winters.

Already running late for work I thought about how the roads would add to my lateness; I grumbled under my breath, “what a horrible way to start of my Monday morning and my week”.

I have never been one of those nervous winter drivers, but I could tell as soon as I left my house and began driving that the roads were very slippery. My first guess was that no one must have known there would be snow today, it was like the salt trucks were not even out to salt the roads last night. I looked at the time again, “oh God I would be at least twenty minutes late for work, if not more.” I continued to drive carefully as I didn’t have any snow tires for my little car and hoped the main roads would be better.

Less than ten minutes after leaving home I approached an intersection, the light was turning from green to yellow so I pressed slightly down on my break to slow my car. I had been driving slow and cautious anyway but I could not feel any real traction beneath my tires, a true testament that the road was just as slippery as I thought. To my left I could see a tractor trailer barreling down the road towards the intersection, he was going fast, too fast! It was then I realized “Oh my God I’m sliding!” I pressed my foot down harder on the break as I continued to slide into oncoming traffic. The tractor trailer screamed closer and closer with no signs of slowing down. My mind flipped through all of the things I knew about sliding on ice, 1) turn into the slide “I could not do that I’m sliding forward!” 2) Do not press down on the breaks “I could NOT do that, I had to stop!” 3) Look in the direction that you want to go, “I couldn’t do that there was NO safe direction, I had to stoppppppppp!” Then I did the only thing I could do, I closed my eyes as tight as I could as I held on as hard as I could. In my mind all I could think is “this kind of impact would not be survivable, not in my wee little car and not with his speed and size.”

I don’t remember seeing or even thinking anything else except “Oh My God, Oh God! People always say they see their life flash before their eyes when they think they will die; well I wonder if that’s true as today I only seen death flash before my eyes, not life.

My car was not moving anymore. I opened my eyes as the midsection of the tractor trailer whooshed past my car; the wind tunnel from the speed shook me. First thing I thought was “Oh my God how is it even possible he missed me!” I wondered if the driver even noticed my almost near death experience, “maybe he moved over, I just dont know.” I sat there and all I could do was guesstimate the distance from my front end to that truck, “the truck could not have been more than two feet from me, yes really just two feet!”

I covered my eyes and felt the rush of emotion flood over me; I put my car into reverse and slowly backed up. I could see a car behind me but I still had to move back as I was still about three or four feet out into the intersection; still in shock to be alive.

I think it was only then that my life flashed before my eyes. I thought about how I woke up my oldest and told him how disappointed I was that he didn’t finish his chores last night, “wow I would have hated to leave this earth with those words as my last my words to him.”

As reality settled in I wanted to throw up, I wanted to go home and hide underneath my blankets and cry myself to sleep. I felt my eyes fill with tears as the car behind me nudged closer without a sound as if he knew or witnessed my near escape from the clutches of death. I turned on my clicker , then pushed on the gas slowly as I turned right heading down the road towards work, terrified yet thankful for my life. I wanted to go home but I knew I had to keep going; I had to go forward, no matter how hard.

I know today I faced almost certain death; I’m not sure how or why my car stopped sliding, or why that truck didn’t cream me! I also can’t help but wonder if it was my last call out that made the difference! “God was that you again? Thanks a bunch!”

My shoulder hurts like hell, damn Canadian winters!

Written by: Corrina Leblond

Image :winter in Canada – Winter Photo (645104) – Fanpop

The God Glow

22 Dec 2015 Leave a comment

by Katz in Rants and Raves Tags: #beliefs, #spirituality, buddism, christianity, faith, God, GodGlow, Gods Grace, hinduism, holy spirit, North Bramalea United Church, roman catholics, spirtualjourney

My spiritual journey as an adult has always been one at arm’s length with religion. Being reared up in the belief system of Christianity I have always had a tendency to have one foot in the door of religion and the other foot tip toeing out to learn about other beliefs that may have seemed a little more interesting, dare I say.
Over the years I have explored faith in a few alternative ways as I craved to know more about Buddhism and Hinduism, just to name the most recent.

Having re-established my own faith again in my thirties(you know after I choose to believe God must surely have made the aliens too) I also wanted to understand more of what faith could offer other than that which had been uninvited and drilled into me as a child. Truth is I am basically happy I was given the foundation of Christianity as a child. In the same sense I choose to raise my own children as Catholics; you know the traditional baptism followed by the same legacy of a Catholic school education, even though when making these choices for my children I was questioning my own religion. I just knew I very much wanted my children to know about God, and after that it would be up to them to make their own choice when they got older. I have never forced my children to go to church (much as my son says never is simply not true) nor did I go much myself as an adult, until recently when I found a place which no longer feels like church, The North Bramelea United Church.

Religion in general has always left a bad taste in my mouth. Having always felt it was something my grandparents believed in and practiced and mostly not for me allowed me to feel free with my own perceptions of God and faith. Even though I do believe in God, I have felt strongly about “not needing a building” or a religion to represent my faith in God as He (being God that is) already knew me well enough to know where I stood on religion and my beliefs.

I am also not proud of the ideologies formed from the interpretation of religion by man. No matter what name or face history has titled these belief systems if choosing to use religion as a cover for war and madness there is no other definition for this other than criminal; crimes against humanity are still crimes if you for any reason use religion to harm even one single person on this earth. Fact is all we need to do is look around to see the chaos created by religion and reflect did God really intend this mess? I vote a big NO.
As a young Catholic girl I was taught to pray; certainly some prayers were by force (especially those hard floored Rosary prayers, ouch) and some prayers just as a means to comfort from the boogey man and whatever the heck it was that lived was under my bed, of course. Like most Catholic families we had the typical good night prayer “God bless mommy & daddy” etc. etc., and of course the well-practiced prayers from Sunday mass which were carved so deep into my brain that I don’t even remember learning them, yet still today if I’m at a Catholic mass my lips are automatically moving with those same words as the priest, I don’t know why… but it still happens. Yes words I learned so long ago, even some Latin words, who knew I could speak in tongues!
Mom always told me I should pray whenever anything scared me; and as a child life was not so great so I prayed a lot. So many times I remember praying eyes squeezed tight just to go back to sleep from a bad dream, falling asleep with “Hail Mary” or “Our Father” on my lips as I drifted back into unconsciousness , a typical night for me as a Catholic child. Having been raised a strict Catholic I was naturally forced to go to church every week which also included church in school as well, it was just second nature to do so. There was never an opportunity to opt out of church or dare say the words “No way I’m not going!” as I hear my kids scream out when asked if they want to go to church. Not only were we not asked if we wanted to go to church, we would also have paid a dear price for saying no; and when I say paid …I mean PAID with a lesson remembered for days or weeks depending on whether the teaching tool was a belt, a stick or a hand!

I don’t even recall ever thinking about not going to church, not at least until I was about sixteen or seventeen. I sang in the choir for years and my brother was an altar boy, it was just what we did. It seemed everyone was punished, oops I mean treated with the same unsaid expectation of church as we were good Catholics, something that meant a lot to my Irish/Scottish grandparents. I was really no different than any other kid in our family who were likely taught to pray from the womb as I suspect I was.

Aside from religion something inside me always left me feeling different from others. I always wondered why or if it was just my own fault for not fitting in, ever. Even now my kids say “mom you are different, good different”, at work I have heard others say “ you are so different”, my kids friends have said “geeze your mom is so different”, and once many years ago an older Asian woman stopped me outside a store and stared in my face and said “you have a very kind face”, I have always remembered her, she was so intense as she stared directly into my soul that day, one thing for sure is she made me feel different! I think I can see my differences now and I believe it could only be in my character. I have my strong, caring nature which I hope is why I have a respectable character, or at least that’s what I think people who get to know me will think. Having a knack for helping people coupled with lots of empathy has always caused my heart to swell even when reading about sad stories of poverty, pain and oppression, and don’t even get me started on my depth of love for or animals, always wishing I could do more to help or take them home. It was only recently I realized those pieces of me which are different are not that different at all. Now that I have connected with others who I feel are similar to me touching my life in one way or another, I see we have some common ground ethically and in character.

A new friend of mine spoke recently at an event that I had attended. During her talk she said something that touched a knowing in my heart as to why I could be different. To be honest I can’t even remember what it was she said exactly but what I do remember is she said something about her and God …something along the lines of “and that’s why I am different, because God…”and then it was like I knew in that very moment ! What she said was or could be the reason why I too might be different! You know I definitely had a few notches in the ole prayer belt especially as a kid, so maybe someone was watching over me shining inside my spirit bright enough for me to be the odd one out, or perhaps I was meant to shine just a little differently so that only those like me could see the same glow in their heart of hearts. I don’t know really; it’s not like this is a provable theory after all but why not a theory all the same, after all people make stuff up all the time and spend years trying to prove it right?

I thought about a few other people I connected with over the years who have helped me in a positive way in my life, you know those ones who just seem to appear out of nowhere to support you in a time of crisis or misery. I now believe they too could have some sort of spiritual connection in this web of existence, not necessarily Christian but maybe some belief system or another that has them praying or believing that our creator is looking over us, impacting us, guiding us and helping us find one another when in times of need. Those that had most impacted me also had this profound sense of helping other, fairness and social justice in their hearts…I then thought “I think we all have the God glow!” Really this is just something I made up, God glow that is, but what if it’s real? A real glow, you know a special glow in people who have a deep connection with God whether in a church, in a field beneath a tree, around the dinner table or just in our heart or hearts.

I’m certain those that have this connection with God whether young or old have a special inner glow. I don’t think the glow can be seen by the naked eye, I think it can only be felt by the heart and seen in people’s actions. Maybe everyone has it and some people get a higher dosage than others, who knows. All I know is I’m glad I see the same glow in those good people I have met along my way, and I will forever feel like I have found something special that I didn’t know I had before, the “God glow”.
I’m also happy to report this can only mean I have more good than I ever knew, thanks God!

Written by : Corrina Leblond

Image by: www.achievinglotus.org

Love This!

05 Nov 2015 Leave a comment

by Katz in Love This ! Tags: #amazingwriter, #liberation, #mariannewillianson, empowerment, fear, God

Our Greatest Fear —

It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other

people won’t feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of
God that is within us.

It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

—Marianne Williamson

Love This!

02 Apr 2015 Leave a comment

by Katz in Love This ! Tags: #innerbeauty, #lovethis, #positivequotes, #positivethinking, #selfworth, #spiritualquotes, God

Today I wondered if God was listening!

10 Mar 2015 Leave a comment

by Katz in Rants and Raves Tags: anger, child abuse, creative non fiction microstory, forgiveness, frustration, God, Gods Comfort, guilt, love, pray, prayers, saddness

(Trigger warning & strong language, yet a story I had to tell)

Just one more trip to the grocery store and my busy day would soon be met with some justified relaxation, ahhhh. Since midday today I was on a life high having recieved some great news. I couldn’t wait to get home so I could relax and sink into this new found happiness. The only thing left on my mind after work was celebrating; should it be a white wine or something special?

As I hurried through the mall parking lot a cab stopped by the mall entrance. I noticed the passenger, a mid thirty something female who almost tripped out of the cab’s back door when exiting. She stood up after the near mishap adjusting her clothes over her slim figure. I thought she obviously must be in a much bigger hurry than I was as she quickly ran into the mall disappearing from my view. For one second my busy mind paused as I admired how tall and thin she was with her chic haircut that only a few people would ever dare to sport or look good in. Damn skinny people, my inner voiced chimed; they can wear or look good in anything!

My mind shifted back to my errands and the pizza order I had placed that would surely be cold as it was now more than an hour since leaving work late on another Friday night. It was my fault the family had become dependent on these Friday night takeouts, I take full responsibility for doing it one too many times as I will NOT cook on a Friday, they are all big now and can pitch in, or so I tell myself. In another alternate reality I fantasize about coming home to an amazing cooked meal with my family’s painted happy faces ushering me to the table after a hard day’s work, swooning over me as they take my bag and rush to caring for my every need (ha and then I wake up). Even when I say this in my head it sounds silly and preposterous! Meal times in my house seem to have become one of those “what’s mom cooking/bringing home” kind of homes, despite my proud feminist views.

I entered the mall and only seconds later my busy mind tuned into the yelling and screaming just ahead of me. As I was jilted from my own thoughts I noticed the screams were coming from the cab passenger who was screaming and walking in a fast pace towards where I had just entered the store.

She screamed “I told you, I fucking , fucking told you NOT TO MOVE, what the FUCK is wrong with YOU, why CANT you ever listen to a FUCKING word I say!!”

A notable gasp and cry came from the husky 10-12 year old boy as she wailed on him screaming just inches away from his face crouching over him, eyes bulging with a clear firm grasp of his shoulders. Her next words were inaudible to me as I think I went into shock, her words became a blur. For sure a threat of “if you do….then I will ….slap, hit” She continued on for a few more painful seconds. I couldn’t help but feel like I was frozen in time as the air became so thick it was hard to move forward. She screamed a few more F bombs and her last words clear and cutting as she turned back to him yelling “DONT MOVE and stop your crying you FUCKING PUSSY!

Oh my dear God!!! What ???? I could not believe my ears; I’m now certain I was in shock. All I could think of was this poor, poor boy and ask myself who the hell is that person?

I found myself praying for him immediately asking God to come to his side and comfort him. As part of my religious upbringing praying still came easy as I also begged for angel Gabriel to come and cradle this child from this pain. I prayed that she wasn’t his mom, maybe an older sister, a crack head stepmother, anyone but please don’t let this be his everyday life! I’ve never ever heard anyone speak that abusive to a child before. I was stunned needless to say. I’ve heard a lot of verbal abuse in my time but never this much or with such contempt and language towards a child, and certainly never in a grocery store.

I noticed others in the store who had lined up for service had that same frozen look of disbelief on their face. I looked at the child as tears streamed down his cheeks and I wished I could just hug him. I stopped for just a second long enough to hear people around me beginning to rumble about how disrespectful she was, but no one moved towards the child. The cab passenger was just a couple of aisles ahead of me grabbing random items off the shelves, popping her head in and out not really even looking over. I wondered what anyone could even legally do in this situation, I was lost for what to do.

With my heart wrenching I could feel his sadness, my heart was breaking. I continued walking to the deli and paid for my pizza as the pain in my heart grew. I grabbed my pizza box and decided I would go speak to him, give him a word of encouragement, something, anything!

I headed back to where the child was determined to get his number, maybe just a name so I could call the police or child services.

To my sadness he was gone when I came back; I don’t know what happened to him or where he could be. Out of the corner of my eye I seen the cab passenger but this time she was alone, I wondered where the child was.

I left the mall with a huge lump in my throat and a nagging feeling that I should’ve done more. I drove home, my cold pizza beside me absent of the joy I had felt earlier. Tears filled my eyes as pain rushed into my heart thinking about what a shitty day that boy was having, maybe a shitty life, no one deserves that treatment!

I again said a prayer to God. I asked for help for the child and asked God to help him through his journey as I know I was comforted many times in my life. Still this wasn’t enough to ease my guilt; I slowed my car I wanted to turn back. I know somehow this was a bit crazy of me, or was it? I just wanted to DO SOMETHING. But again I decided to go home and drop off the food for my family.

When I got in the door I spilled out my story to anyone who would listen and asked my partner to come to the mall with me so we can find the boy. He was on the phone and half heartedly listened as my kids grabbed the food and the dog hopped with excitement hoping for just one bite of fallen pepperoni. Yes I was back in my life now, but part of me was still with the boy.

My 13 year old pulled out three math tests he was prouder than proud of, his face beamed with excitement as he showed me three A’s, one that was an A+, first one of the year. This was a special moment, I wished I could’ve been happier and more involved, but I was still with the boy.

My mind consumed with guilt and images of the child in the mall. I still didn’t know what to do, even if I went back to the mall he may be gone or sitting with her. What COULD I really do? What should I have done? Why didn’t I do anything?

I felt so sad, I tried to smile at my son and give him the attention he deserved but I could not get that image of the pain and embarrassment on that other child’s face out of my mind. His sadness haunted me as I reflected on my own pain as a child. He will grow up one day, it will get better, I comforted myself.

I knew that no matter what he wasn’t really truly alone, none of us are. God is with him, even if he didn’t have God as part of his upbringing as I did.

My younger son hugged me and shared with me what he does when he feels like I was feeling, “mom you know what I do when I wish I couldn’t done something and didn’t, I ask God to forgive me”. His words touched and surprised me, wow!

I knew immediately that was the answer. “Give it to God” a friend once told me. I humbly asked for forgiveness and hoped this would be enough.

My spiritual journey doesn’t always involve a church, but it always has involved God, a side effect of being raised in a religious home.

There were no celebrations that night but refreshed awareness that for every joy we have someone somewhere is suffering, too real a reminder, I counted my blessings.

I am blessed for so many reasons, and blessed most of all to be so lucky to have such a wise child who offered me the comfort that I only now truly appreciate as an adult, Gods comfort.

Written by: Corrina Leblond