A little goes a long way

What if we started to break up the big, heaping chunk of love we felt we had to give into little bite-sized pieces? That way, we wouldn’t feel like we needed to exhaust ourselves to the maximum limit every single day and fall into bed at night feeling we have nothing left.

What if we were to simplify and watch what beauty can unfold when we put the most attention (and INtention) into the smallest (and seemingly most insignificant) things?

I had a great heart-to-heart yesterday with the two lovely women who work at the front desk of my dentist’s office. Even as they were both dealing with clients making payments and booking appointments, they would always (sometimes in tandem, which was making us all laugh) lift their eyes from what they were doing to smile, wave and acknowledge any new patients who were coming in for their appointment. I could see the look on the patient’s face light up — even though they may have just been coming in to get their teeth cleaned or a crown fixed, there was a knowledge from the moment they walked in the door that they mattered.

Acknowledging the existence of another human being out in the world is the simplest form of kindness and love we can give to a friend or stranger alike. In acknowledging someone else, we silently acknowledge our own humanity and the ways in which we are all connected in this life.

The little bits of love you think won’t have an impact have the power to grow a heart the most.

xo A.

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Hugh thinks about Heathrow. I think about Alivia.

“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge – they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that love actually is all around…”

~ Hugh Grant’s opening lines from Love Actually.

Love it or hate it, few can deny the choke-up-ability of that very first scene in Love Actually.

This world can, at times, appear bereft of hope, and full of too many awful news stories. But if you open your eyes a bit wider, there are, in fact, many hopeful tales of love, and tiny miracles happening every day.

Alivia is proof.

I received an e-mail the other day with a video attached from a lovely Mum named Alysa who I offered Yoga Nidra to in a time of need. I was so touched and inspired to receive this visual update that I asked her if she was willing to have me share this story, and she wholeheartedly agreed.

In April 2013, I came across a desperate message on Facebook from a Doula in Edmonton who was reaching out to the Calgary childbirth community for support. A Mum she was providing some assistance to (after reading a compelling e-mail from a best friend requesting support for this new Mum) needed some major TLC.

Not knowing how or even if I could help, I sent this Doula a message requesting further information so I could lend a hand, or even recommend someone who could.

It was clear that this Mum was in a traumatic, challenging place, and could use something (and someone) to help her stay afloat.

I wrote back to the Doula and let her know that I teach Yoga Nidra (a highly restorative form of guided relaxation) and I felt that, with the stress and tiredness this Mum was experiencing, this practice could not only help her feel more rested, but maybe provide her with a bit of zen and healing in a chaotic place and time.

Alysa and I connected over e-mail, and within 5 days, I was up at theĀ Alberta Children’s Hospital meeting Alysa for the first time.

Alivia’s condition was such that I was not permitted to meet her, but Alysa was quick to show me every photo she had of her sweet little warrior who just kept pulling through, time after time. Alysa and I were relative strangers, but quickly fell into conversation with ease and knew our paths had crossed for a reason. Life in the NICU, day in and day out, was proving to be lonely and hard. She barely slept. She was losing track of eating meals of her own, and forgetting to stay hydrated. Her every waking hour was spent investing energy into this tiny little baby, and rightly so — Alivia was so little, new, and fighting battles greater than anyone her age should ever have to fight.

On this first visit, I managed to draw Alysa out of the NICU for an hour or so. Getting her out of the ward proved more challenging than I thought since this kind, openhearted woman was not only tending to her child’s own diverse medical crises, but also — as I witnessed first hand — providing a steady, listening ear to almost every other family in the NICU who was getting far worse news.

I saw her hold the hands of distraught grandparents whose granddaughter was being removed from life support.

She offered kindness and compassion to parents who were just as traumatized as she was.

She shared with me how excruciating it had been to hear the wails of a grieving mother behind the walls of Alivia’s room.

It moved me deeply to see how much she gave in her own deepest hours of need.

Clearly, one of the greatest gifts I could give Alysa was one of peace and quiet, if even for 1/24th of her day.

A kind nurse provided us with a few blankets. I brought a Yoga mat, bolster & eye pillow. I set Alysa up on the floor in the Sacred Space on the upper floor of the hospital and guided her through a relaxation. Though it would be impossible to undo the countless hours of sleeplessness and stress she had accumulated since Alivia’s birth, this time in relaxation did wonders.

Two weeks later, I returned, mat, bolster & eye pillow in hand.

Alivia was doing better. Alysa was still just trying to get through each day, navigating each twist and turn that came with Alivia’s condition, which was no small feat. It was clear this little baby could feel the intense determination and hope her family had for her recovery. She just kept on pulling through.

The last time Alysa and I met up, she was awaiting confirmation on next steps, which would most likely involve Alivia being airlifted to Edmonton for open heart surgery. I had a feeling that I would probably not see Alysa again, or at least for a long while, but we promised to keep in touch.

Alivia

From time to time, I send a message Alysa’s way to check in, and she always sends the most beautiful photos of her sweet little girl. Alivia turned One in April, and Alysa put together this short video of the courageous path she traveled to get to that point. She encouraged me to share Alivia’s story in the hope that it could help someone who is going through a tough time, and to remind us all that “miracles DO happen.”

This is Alivia’s journey.