While walking through Carlingwood Shopping Centre today, my daughter and I came upon a group of cadets selling chocolates to raise funds. We stopped.

— "I would be happy to buy a chocolate bunny and to give it to you," I said.

— "Oh, no, we couldn't possibly accept it" was the common refrain.

— But one cadet with a beautiful smile piped up: "Yeah, we'll take it."

— "What kind do you prefer?" I asked, as they had both milk chocolate and dark chocolate for sale.

— "Milk chocolate," was the immediate response from the smiley one.

— "I can't eat milk chocolate," said another cadet. "I'm allergic to milk. Take the dark chocolate."

— "Dark chocolate has milk in it, too," another cadet pointed out. The cadet with the allergy checked the ingredients on the box.

— "Oh yeah. Well, then get whatever one you want."

So milk chocolate it was. I handed over my $5, and the smiley cadet took the box of chocolates. Mel and I continued our stroll around the mall (in lieu of an outdoor walk, given the cold weather). But I kept thinking about the cadet who couldn't eat the chocolate. I dislike when someone is left out because of a food allergy, intolerance or preference.

— "I wonder whether Purdys sells vegan chocolate," I said to my daughter.

— "I bet they do," Mel replied.

So we stopped at the Purdys chocolate shop, which was close to where the cadets were selling their chocolates. When you're contemplating a random act of kindness, it helps to have someone encouraging you to go for it. And that's exactly what Mel did. We confirmed that Purdy's did, indeed, sell vegan chocolate.

We returned to the cadets, as I wanted to confirm which of the various vegan choices would work best. The cadet with the milk allergy wasn't there—"on lunch," his colleagues said—but they were happy to offer a view on what their colleague would prefer.

— "Would he like vegan chocolate?" I asked.

— "Oh I'm sure he would," they said.

So Mel and I returned to Purdy's, purchased a vegan chocolate for $5, and returned to the cadets to leave it for the one with the allergy. One random act of chocolate: complete.

I have many memories of going to church at St. Patrick's. Mass was at 7:30 on Saturday evenings. The church had neither heating nor air conditioning, so it was used in the summers only. Weather permitting, the windows were opened wide, letting in all the sounds and smells of the church's rural surroundings. We would often hear cattle bawling in the field across the road from the church, competing with the sometimes over enthusiastic ringing of the bells by a mischievous altar boy. The smell of hay and manure wafted through the windows, mingling with the scent of lilacs or peonies or whatever flowers parishioners had brought to decorate the church.

Though Grenny's article and my blog post focused on constructive feedback in the workplace, I believe that the concept of psychological safety applies in the healthcare sphere as well. If I feel that the healthcare professionals who are interacting with me have my best interests at heart, I will be more open to whatever they have to say. Now, I never doubt that they care about my well-being. However, some healthcare professionals are better than others at making me feel like I am seen and respected as an individual. Some are better at not only giving me the information I need but also ensuring that I leave feeling as good as I can under the circumstances. The best show they care by using my name, answering—not dismissing—my questions, and acknowledging the promising signs in addition to the challenges ahead.

When I was a child, we didn't have multiple TVs with numerous channels, computers or electronic devices in every room, and an endless supply of entertainment tailored to the needs of each person in the household. We had one TV with two channels—three if you counted the French one. We had no computers or smartphones. We had no Netflix. So when we weren't working on the farm, we were playing together. Our entertainment came mostly from games played outside (baseball, football, badminton) or inside (pool, table tennis, board games). Today, it's so easy for us to be off in our own little worlds. That's why I'm grateful for every moment I get to spend with my kids, even if it's doing dishes.

"I tell you all this because it is the way you are to feel when you are writing—happy, truthful and free, with that wonderful contented absorption of a child stringing beads in kindergarten. With complete self-trust. Because you are a human being all you have to do is get out truthfully what is in you and it will be interesting, it will be good. Salable? I don't know. But that is not the thing to think of—for a long time anyway."

— Barbara Ueland

"If parents purposefully do chores while the child is not there, tell the child to go play or watch TV, or overly manage the activity with many instructions and corrections, young children lose interest—not just in the chores but in helping their parents. At the same time, kids miss out on opportunities to learn how to collaborate and work together with their siblings and parents."

— Michaeleen Doucleff

Charity can be viewed as something you do as much as something you give.

Some winters require more patience than others, but they all—inevitably—give way to spring.

It can be hard for the newly diagnosed to imagine that there is an "other side" to cancer or for the cancer patient early in their treatments to envision the end of active therapy. And then, one day, they are ringing the bell, and soon after, they are welcoming others coming behind them.

On this St. Patrick's Day, if given the choice between a green beer and maple syrup, I would choose the latter. I may be one-eighth Irish, but I'm 100% Lanark County, which is—after all—the Maple Syrup Capital of Ontario.

"Even once you’re aware of the all-consuming relationship you have with your phone, wrestling your focus back from the hypnotic glow of your screen is no easy feat. Because people need their phones for all kinds of communication and connection, it’s unrealistic to think that you can divorce yourself from your devices entirely—but you can strive for a better way to coexist with them."

— Elissa Sanci

I was struck by how great my friend looked, exactly how I remembered her from work, some four years ago. I think those of us who have gone through cancer and survived just get on with life. We work or volunteer or travel. We savour life. We do not spend our days thinking about cancer. In fact, you would never know that either of us had spent months in cancer treatment. Modern medicine is a marvel. But so is the human spirit. Is there a certain peace that comes from facing a life-threatening illness and surviving? Are we more resolved than others to get on with living? Perhaps. Or maybe we busy ourselves with life so as not to think about the possibility of cancer recurrence.

How easily time slips away if we aren't deliberate about connecting with friends. As the Swedish proverb says, "Go often to the house of a friend, for weeds soon choke up the unused path."

"The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story."

— Chimamanda Adichie