We Need To Just Shut Up And Listen...

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I would be lying if I said I wasn't struggling. 

This is not my grief, but I am grieving. I don't feel I have a right to. I still benefit from what my ancestors did to yours. I have no right to encroach, I have no claim to the sadness, I feel as though by feeling it, I'm taking something from you that I don't have a right to. But, it's still happening. 

It's not my grief. It's not our grief. You've had so much stripped from you, we have no right to take this from you too. 

The cries of these precious babies haunt me as I try to sleep. And they should.

I see online comments from different people trying to minimize the tragedy, trying to say "it's in the past, I wasn't there, you weren't there, just move on."

I feel that's wrong on so many levels.

Moving on is impossible without healing. For that to happen, we need to learn to just shut up and listen.

We have no right to tell you how to grieve, how long to grieve, what you need to do to heal. We never had that right, we just did it anyway. 

We need to just shut up and listen.

Do we really want to be the ones to suggest we know better? Again? As we continue to ride the perpetual waves of privilege their pain continues to provide? Really?

Generations of children. Hundreds, thousands of children, their children, and their children's children still suffer because of what we did, and continue to do. 

Those who managed to survive the horrific abuse grew to be adults so damaged by trauma, they had no hope of becoming who they should have been allowed to become. Children who are terrified, hungry, suffering unspeakable sexual and physical abuse can't dream. Children ripped from their families only to be baptized in putrid evil can not grow to thrive. It's impossible.

So we break them, then want to blame them for being broken. Really?

The Catholic Church needs to own this. It sits on records. It continues to cover up. It continues to shield those who still walk this earth that had a direct hand in this.

The Church. With one hand it buries these babies in the yard like unwanted pets while holding a bullhorn with the other, screaming at the top of their lungs how "pro-life" they are.

The hypocrisy is astounding. 

We need to just shut up and listen.

We need to follow the lead of those who have the right to lead. We need to give space for everything. All of it. We need to follow, heads bowed in reverence to their traditions and ceremonies. No questions, no suggestions.

We need to just shut up and listen. 

The photos are lies. A majestic building. Groups of young children surrounded by nuns, open fields. The building, a torturous prison where they fed children rancid food, and when it made them throw up, forced them to eat the vomit. A place where pedophiles committed despicable crimes, a place where beating children unconscious was the norm. The children surrounded by nuns. The nuns who facilitated and participated in all kinds of horrible abuse. The open fields that should have hosted countless games, but instead became a crime scene holding evidence of genocide. 

We need to just shut up and listen.

My privilege in no way entitles me to your grief. It's yours. 

I will follow. Ears open, mouth shut, heart broken, head bowed in reverence. 

I am so profoundly sorry.

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May all of the lost be found, all of the missing be brought home.

May they be set free by their families, with the traditions they deserve, no longer alone.

May the rest of us support, believe without question, validate the truths the come from these prisons.

May we finally do what's right, what's kind, what we should have always done, just shut up and listen.

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Happy Daddy's Day 2021 Edition...

 Hi!

These photos were all taken on the same day. Welcome to Saskatchewan! Storm clouds, dust... whatever that was, and clouds looking like they were picked and placed in the sky.

This is June. Unpredictable. Days warm, accompanied by a soothing breeze. Days so hot you find yourself wiping boob sweat from between your toes. Days when poplar fuzz flies like a blizzard. Days so windy it makes it look like your deck was the venue for a barroom brawl. Days, each brought to life by sunrises so gorgeous they seem unreal, then put to bed by the vast, ever-unique, ever-changing, multi-coloured sunsets.

June brings with it the end of the school year, the official start to summer, and Daddy's Day.

With vaccines finally getting the upper hand, and putting the run on this nightmare virus, restrictions are slowly being lifted. A person can't help but become cautiously optimistic. 

Soon.

In the meantime...

Happy Daddy's Day!

First, to my hubby...

With every passing year, and as the role of Daddy has shifted from being a toy assembling jungle gym, the puller of splinters, fixer of bikes, teacher of oil and flat tire changes, to the listener of heartbreak, the extinguisher of fires both figurative and literal, and walker of brides down the aisle, his true Daddydom becomes richer, deeper, and more full of pride for his girls.

He has always given them everything he could, both emotionally and materially. 

They've never had to entertain one iota of doubt that their Dad would have their back in any given situation. He knows his girls are not perfect, always celebrating and encouraging the fact that they aren't, even if he hasn't always understood their choices. 

Perfection is never expected. Being a good person, though, non-negotiable. He didn't expect them to never get into trouble, he just expected them to have a good reason. 

Soon he will be able to hug all his girls again, in person, under his roof.

Soon.

But, it's not only Daddy's day for my hubby!

Happy Daddy's Day to all of the Dads out there. The single Dads, the bonus Dads, the work-away-from-home Dads, the stay-at-home Dads, the Dads through blood, and the Dads through heart. 

Have a Fantastic Day!

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May you celebrate your Dad this weekend, for it's an honour not all can share.

May you celebrate him in whatever way you can, from afar, in person, or in the middle somewhere.

May those who will spend the day reminiscing, now celebrating their dads only through pictures and funny anecdotes,

May they find a way to do so through their tears, find a smile, bathing in memories of pushing swings and fishing boats.

May we celebrate all Dads and everything they do.

May we celebrate all Dads... even with the jokes, we love you!

An Endless Sky, Both Ancient And New...

 Hi!

An endless sky, both ancient and new. A comforting constant wrapped in violent unpredictability. 

The colours, ever-changing, encompassing serenity and danger with equal fervour. Where you tread upon the earth changes your view, as does time and season. It will give you dancing lights in all shades of blue and green, rainbows of blinding beauty, tropical fury, and dark, twisting destruction that can throw your life in your face with unbridled vengeance and little to no warning.

The sky cares not who you are, where you are, what you have, or what you do.

Any delusion of control, we as humans like to entertain, is quickly dissolved the first time we try to catch a dropped receipt on a windy day. 

It can be easy to become overwhelmed by its sheer vastness and power.

It can be easy to become paralyzed by what could happen, what might happen. 

So, what do we do?

We do our best to waterproof our homes, we buy insurance, we batten down hatches, we board up windows, we take cover from the storms. We do what we can to keep ourselves, and those around us safe.

When the storm passes, we once again step out from the shelter of our safe havens and begin the clean-up. We check on our neighbours and start putting things back where they belong. 

Humanity is on the verge of emerging from our safe-havens.

Soon we will start to pick up the pieces and begin to put things back where they belong. 

Did we do everything we could to keep the storm at bay? Did we do everything we could to protect our families, friends, and communities? Time will tell.

If not, let's take what we've learned, and be better prepared for the next one, because another is inevitable. 

History is rarely kind, as the clarity of hindsight is often glaring. We never have to delve very deep to discover our mistakes. Many we choose not to see because of the discomfort it brings. Acknowledging mistakes is an essential part of healing. Acknowledging, onus and remorse.

Let's have the courage to embrace truth, no matter where it leads us, no matter the discomfort. 

Let's take each and every step needed to heal. 

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Until next time...

May the storm clouds soon clear, allowing us to once again bathe in the sun.

May we find a path of healing alongside those we've hurt, from the truth, we can no longer run.

May the blatant reality of history be brought to classrooms, without filters, without spin.

May we take accept and take ownership of the story of the country we live in. 

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Justice Is Impossible...

Photo Credit: Angelica Casimer-Lindley

Unsure who to credit for this photo.

Hi.

The contrast between the top two photos, and what they represent, should slap you in the face. I know it did me.

The last photo depicts a foreground of mourning parents and grandparents hoping to get a glimpse of their abducted children as they were lead in and out of the torturous prison that was heinously called a "school." Sadly, this was far from the only one.

The last of these facilities closed in 1996.

The Government and the Catholic Church were co-conspirators.

Their intention was to force the noble, spiritual, indigenous people to assimilate, to conform to their colonizing ideals.

Kill the culture by stealing their children, their future.

I don't claim to be an expert on this subject, far from it. I know I'm speaking from a place of privilege. I know that I can never truly understand the damage generations of abuse have on a culture, and the families within it. 

All I can do is learn the truth, and then share it in the best way I know how.

Before those 215 little souls were discovered on the grounds of one of these facilities in Kamloops, BC, I knew about the residential schools. I'd heard about the physical and sexual abuse thrust upon these babies at the hands of nuns and priests. I'd heard and read some of the stories from the survivors.

I didn't know about the mass, unmarked graves.

If it turns your stomach to learn about it, imagine the horror of living it. 

215. For now. 

Likely, the tip of the iceberg.

Little to no recording of names, deaths, reasons for their passing.

Why would they?

They starved these children. They abused and tortured these children. They beat these children bloody on a very regular basis. They murdered these children. Of course they didn't want a record kept.

Records can lead to accountability. The Catholic Church is allergic to accountability.

They never met a cover-up of despicable behavior they didn't like, and perpetuate with gusto. 

They can't be allowed to slide out from under this.

They can't be allowed to use the 'bad apple' defense.

They can't be allowed to pretend that they were isolated incidences.

The Catholic Church should have to pay for all of it. The identification process of all of the children, both found and yet to be found. They should have to pay for everything deemed necessary by the aboriginal communities to heal. They should take ownership of what they did. All of it. No excuses, no justifications, no caveats, no passing of the buck, just accountability. 

For a church that supposedly is "pro-life," what about the lives of these babies?

A church that encourages its members to picket clinics, while simultaneously covering up abuse of children at the hands of priests and nuns, and conveniently refuses to see the complete hypocrisy of it all, is utterly astounding. 

Meaningful healing can only ever begin with sincere accountability and reconciliation. 

Justice is impossible. 

The abuse of our First Nation's people isn't history. We can't bury our heads in the sand and pretend it is. It's evident in every facet of our society's structure. From health care and foster care to career opportunities and treatment by law enforcement and the courts.

The only way this gets better is if we all make it happen. 

Changes won't happen on their own. The entities perpetuating the worst of the injustices won't hold themselves accountable, history has taught us that over and over and over again. 

It's going to take all of us. This burden is too heavy to be carried by First Nations people alone, besides, it's not theirs to bear. We thrust this burden upon their shoulders, it's up to us to put our backs into the heavy lifting. 

It took generations to cause all of this damage, it will take generations to heal it. We need to start. 

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May your souls finally be free to fly, at peace, free from the terror, free to reclaim what you know to be true. 

May your names be said aloud, heard with reverence, memorialized, and honoured by those who loved you.

May every injustice be brought to light, every brutal act accounted for, every abuser forced to say what's true.

May you, the guilty, have your names said aloud, heard with disdain, demoralized, and dishonoured, just deserts for you.

May we find a path toward healing, guided by those hurt most, help to bring closure and peace, no one can do it alone.

May we all do everything we possibly can to comfort, to listen, to hear, to bring all the babies home.

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