I called Quebec this morning. I am supposed to be meeting Dr. Sally Wenzel (the primary investigator for the Severe Asthma Research Program in Pittsburgh, who is awesome) for coffee at a Cafe Supreme on Sunday when I am in Quebec City. I googled the Cafe’s hours and they are not posted, nor have they replied to my e-mail. My first French interaction was a fail:

CS: [Incomprehensible greeting]

Me: Je ne parle pas Francais

CS: No speak English.

Me: Uh, merci.

So, that was awkward.  (We’re meeting at Sally’s hotel now). The thing is, I can stumble my way through reading some basic French. Signage, food labels, etc. Maybe. But as evidenced above, I cannot have a conversation. Never mind that, I could have perhaps figured out how to ask about the Dimanche heures [Sunday hours], except I totally wouldn’t have understood the response.

Fingers crossed my entire 33 hours in Quebec are not filled with French interactions I do not get anywhere with. On that note, I met my local Asthma Society connection/travel companion for coffee yesterday, and we had a fun chat in a Tim Horton’s (in English), which was fantastic. Also I spent twenty minutes on hold with Air Canada before I hung up, which was not fantastic.

Disclosure: Through sponsorship from Merck, the Asthma Society of Canada is covering all of my expenses for the World Congress on Asthma in Quebec City this weekend, including ground transportation, meals, conference registration, accommodation and airfare. I am a member of the ASC’s National Asthma Patient Alliance Executive Committee, but have no obligation to blog about my involvement with the ASC. I just think they’re rad.

From time to time I cycle back to the topic of personal growth. Often.

And sometimes, I forget that I’m a piece of the nurturing growth puzzle. Not growth in myself, but in the kids I see every day I go into work. In the tape and pencil crayons, sparkly wigs and lego, cars and endless board games, sportsmanship lectures and hugs, soccer and Livin’ on a Prayer outbursts, problem solving and water parks.

Some days, I see these things as ways to fill days for our kids. But some days, I really see those things as what they are meant to be: opportunities for growth and development, opportunities to learn, opportunities to develop new skills and moral dissonance.

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From one of our soon to be first graders and his family.

Growth happens inside, but it requires things from outside to ensure all aspects–physical, affective and cognitive development–are nurtured. I need to see these things, these steps we take, for what they really are more often–like I’ve been reminded of today. That we are, many hours a day, helping to build these kids into who they are becoming.

Helping them grow.

On my break at work the other day, it occurred to me that I had never really covered the phrase that is good things in the content of this blog. I encourage you to share your own thoughts in the comments section, I would love to hear them!

As irony would have it, it took me months to realize that I walk in to work every single day and this is the first thing I see [I am being all Ramona Quimby, Age 8 about it, sort of]. Good Things . . . happen to people who try. It is honestly the best reminder to see frequently eleven months a year.
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It is a complete coincidence that Good Things is a thing that Jay and a friend of his came up with to encourage others. I mean, it is the simplest phrase, and that is why it is so golden. To quote an e-mail from New Year’s Day in a discussion we were having about this phrase:
The interesting thing about “good things” is I see it like this …. all emails, messages, texts, and conversations involve a lot of content and affect … a lot of emotion… yet through it all regardless of what has transpired … regardless of how tired you might be … uncertain… scared… proud… hopeful …. things are still good … that does not mean they are easy….yet if you step back you realize things can still be good.
Jay Greenfeld
I send dozens of e-mails a week. And [dependent on the level of formality, of course] I attach a “good things!” to the end as often as possible [usually a “thank you, and good things”, but regardless] as inspired by Jay’s e-mails, with hopes to inspire this thought process in others as he did in me . . . through a simple thing.
Simple things are what make the difference. The choice to make this realization that “things can still be good” regardless of circumstance.
Simple things that prompt a reflection on what is good, what continues to be good, and what will be good in the future–to keep everything in perspective.
Simple things that encourage me to make the right choice, in whichever decisions I encounter in a given moment/day/week/month/year. Because each choice acted on may chase another recklessly into a new chapter of the journey towards further good . . . and you just don’t know until it unfolds.
Simple things . . . like a roll of painter’s tape and a purple wall in my bedroom above my bed:

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. . . To remind me to always recognize the good things. In my life, myself, those around me, and the circumstances around me, amongst the entire picture.

. . .  To remind me of this every day I wake up, with hopes that I will not stay in exactly the same place. That I will grow intentionally. That I will trust but recognize the process. And that I will encounter everything I am meant to. All the good things.

The simple things that are good things.

And the good things that are here . . . and yet to come.

I know I’ve been quiet lately (busy busy!) and I promise to have an update up soon!

In the mean time, Karla at SoundAsthma invited me to guest post on their blog–I’d love to hear your feedback on the topics of being an Asthma Warrior, Randy Pausch, or how positive perspective ties into your own asthma [or other chronic disease] management!

I’ve received some good advice on the topic of failure, probably for the best that I received this advice prior to actually accomplishing my first university failure. Unofficial anatomy marks went up last week, and realistically, not even a curve can save me–I got an F.

The word failure, though, to me implies that I didn’t try my best. That I didn’t work hard and that I didn’t engage as deeply as I could. That I didn’t work for it. And I worked for it. I worked for the 37% that I got.  I did two tutoring sessions a week for a month. I did hours of revision and notes. I consumed a ton of iced coffee [caffeine doesn’t do much for me, so this was purely to add some joy to the agony within the form of a venti iced white mocha].

And fortunately, as it always seems to cycle back to all of Jay’s words in Physical Activity: Promotion and Adherence: I am more than my grades, and my grades do not define who I am as a person. And at least I know 37% more for when I re-engage in the journey of anatomy for September.

Experience is what you get, when you didn’t get what you wanted.

Randy Pausch, The Last Lecture

Experience. I got it.