This past week I went back in time to the familiar. I have one set of Anne of Green Gables DVDs on my shelf but have not had a DVD player for years. It has sat collecting dust, yet I could not even imagine getting rid of them. This set has been with me for years and it represents so much of who I am.
The Anne of Green Gables story has been with me since about fifth grade when the book was read to us by my favourite teacher. A story that defies time and always brings me secret delight, because it is her story that can bring hope to anyone in the depths of despair.
I remember it so well. Each Friday afternoon, the teacher would pull her chair from behind the desk, we would plop down in front of her, and she would read to us. It was a very special treat for us when she did, at least it was a special treat to me. Maybe no one else remembers this time. Maybe it is a memory that is just for me. However, it was my secret delight to listen to this story.
I had moved to my new school from a two-room schoolhouse in the village, between third and fourth grade. Fourth grade was my first time meeting children I did not know and being grouped together. Maybe, this is why I related to Anne so well. I felt like an orphan in a sea of strangeness. Learning to be in community with other kids and beginning the realization that with community does not always come fairness or kindness. I remember not measuring up as I had never seen double Dutch skipping and only the cool girls got to skip.
I can see Mrs. W. sitting in the chair holding the book. This memory is many years old yet feels like yesterday. There was one week she was so sick with a cold she was eating Vick’s cough drops. To this day when I smell Vick’s, I think of her. The power of smell is triggering and holds close much of our past. She sits in the chair wearing a blue double-breasted suit jacket with gold buttons. The book on her lap and a tissue in her hand. She dabs at her nose and sniffles as she reads. Her voice is crackling and rough. I can hear her saying, “Matthew, Matthew!” as she reads how Anne runs back to Matthew in the pasture as he drops in his stride with a heart attack. Tears streaming down my face for poor Anne, knowing how dear he is to her after their short time together at Green Gables. I remember another Friday when Mrs. W. reads to us about Anne accidentally getting her friend Diana drunk by putting liniment in the cake by mistake.
This story has shaped my life with its writing of kindred spirits, window friends, bosom friends and the possibility of hope in times gone by. It feeds into my dream of stepping into Katie’s world, leaving behind the deep despair of our modern world, finding simpler times and appreciating more of what we have.
Anne of Green Gables has been the very canvas upon which I have painted my life. I read and re-read the book. In 1986, Kevin Sullivan produced and directed the wonderful two-part series, Anne of Green Gables, with Megan Follows, Richard Farnsworth and Colleen Dewhurst and I fell in love all over again. This beautiful production was brought to life on the screen and just this past week, I borrowed a DVD player and watched them all again, needing to remember who I am in my heart.
In 2000, they produced the continuing story taking Anne and Gilbert through the First World War. As I watch Downton Abby now, I remind myself of the continuing story in Anne of Green Gables. I think about how people put their lives on hold for war in the 20th century. Many have no idea what people have lived through to get where we are today and forget to be thankful.
Lucy Maud Montgomery was turned down by four publishers before Anne’s story was picked up. She placed it on the top shelf of the closet and forgot about it for years. Once it was published, it changed lives. At least it changed mine. As I walk and hike in nature, through the snow and in the quiet, I am looking for this kindred feeling, a moment of being in tune with Mother Earth. I look for my reflection in the trees and listen for messages in the song of the winter birds. I believe with all my heart the answer to my despair lies in getting back to simpler times. I hunger to let go of all the modern technology to appreciate baking bread, playing with the children, and being in the great outdoors camping and hiking.
The story of our beginning is timeless and when we remember that we are spirit first and substance second, we can reconnect with that which is our source. The biology of the body is finite while the spirit soars free.
Just this past week, I spoke with a nurse who is bogged down with medication, time constraints and pressure. We talked about how it is not sad for those who are dying in their elder years, rather it is cause for joy as the spirit is released back to whence it came. Gone to be with window friends and bosom buddies and the body left here to return to Mother Earth, ashes to ashes and dust to dust. The timelessness of Anne’s quest to live out her “secret delights” and know in her heart it is the soaring of her spirit that is what matters.
As I travel back in time to Mrs. W.’s class, I cross the years of time at a moment’s notice and know I will too return to tell my story of life here on earth one day. It is my purpose and secret delight to live as fully as I can in the meantime.
Cynthia Breadner is a grief specialist and bereavement counsellor, a soul care worker and offers specialized care in Spiritually Integrated Psychotherapy with special attention as a cognitive behavioral therapy practitioner and trauma incident resolution facilitator. She volunteers at hospice, works as a LTC chaplain and is a death doula, assisting with end-of-life care for client and family. She is the mother part of the #DanCynAdventures duo and practices fitness, health and wellness. She is available remotely by safe and secure video connections, if you have any questions contact her today! [email protected]
