A day can make a world of difference. Two can change the world.

A day can make a world of difference. Two can change the world.

Two days ago, I was not okay. I had just experienced the worst week I’d had in years, one of the worst in my entire life. I was struggling.

But I am blessed to be surrounded by so many wonderful human beings, who remind me of what is important, what is possible, what is worth fighting for.

Even before these past two days, the groundwork was being laid. I have worked in many amazing workplaces, but the people I am privileged to call colleagues and friends at Engineering at Alberta are part of the most human place I’ve ever worked. The tragedy of Flight 752 rocked our world, but in the most bittersweet of ironies, it only could because our people matter so much to us and we watch out for one another whenever we can. They watched out for me while we worked to support our larger community through the initial shock and they got me through that week.

And as more and more bad news broke, more and more friends reached out and sent me so much love in so many ways. Without their reminders of what humanity can and should be, seeing what it looks like when people choose to be their best selves instead of succumbing to cynicism and fear and greed, I would have lost all hope.

And if I needed any kind of reminder of the importance of the arts, the last two days of making music with the most amazing group of humans out there has been a beacon to my soul. Call it a miracle or the most epic of coincidences, but my choir, Òran, happened to have its annual retreat scheduled for this weekend. For me it turned into a most literal of retreats, to safety, to love, to an opportunity to begin healing. We sang, we talked, we cried, we laughed, and we sang some more. For those moments, those grains of golden sand, the world was beautiful again. And I found my hope.

Thank you, my friends, you saved my life and you’ve changed the world.