05/22/2026
Friends,
I am sitting in a parking lot in KW right now. As the word is getting out about my resignation from The Village, I thought, since we have been on this journey together, you might like to hear things from me. This may be a long one. And I can already feel the tears burning.
I don’t think I could’ve resigned from The Village even a year ago. I needed to come to a place where I could give myself grace and feel peaceful about moving on to this next part of my life. I hold things, and I was holding alot of deep emotions about leaving. The amazing Village board and volunteers aside, questions circled in my mind and on my heart. Did I personally serve people well? Was I letting folks down? What would the board decide for the Village? What would the impact of closing the doors be, should that be the final decision, for the hundreds of people who depended on The Village monthly? And how could I move along on my own personal journey, feeling this way and with not knowing the answers?
I have shared over the years the many faces from which the business model of The Village was forged and for whom services were created. That I was the student to all these teachers. But the one reason, deepest in my soul and whom I rarely write about is my own mother. When I was a baby in the ‘70’s, and as the fight for fair and equal rights for women was gaining momentum (and still is) but not nearly adequate, my mother’s three young children were taken from her by her then husband and his new partner. From the few relatives who have shared with me the events around that time, as I was a mere 18 months old, mental health and likely postpartum depression may have been something she was navigating before we were taken, but I am confident it overtook her life after. As children, we were not allowed to cry for our mother and the emotional visits came to a very quick end. There was a profoundly painful void.
As I grew from an angry teen into a mother myself, the anger softened to understanding and compassion. And ultimately guided my journey into the professional field of social work. Despite my brothers’ encouragement as we all grew into our 50’s and 60’s, I have not revisited a relationship with my mother. The impact of not having a strong, positive maternal
presence in my childhood and adult life undoubtedly saw me become very self reliant, and also not a very good “relationshipper.” Much to my detriment most days. I did not want to open the door to a relationship with her, knowing I would not follow through and maintain it. I suppose this is my “achilles heal” in life, but I own that. But what I did know is that while my mother tried to live a life after the devastating trauma of motherhood being ripped from her life, organizations not only cared for her but became her friends and family. I knew years ago that although I couldn’t see a long and fruitful relationship with my mother, someday, in her honour and wth gratitude to those who cared for her when she needed them most, I would build something that cared for people too. A place where people were honoured and cared for, and who quickly became like friends and family. And together, as volunteers, board members, as a community, we have done just that. My soul has no words, friends. And I can now peacefully move on. ❤️
Over many years that The Village has been in the community, I have worked through my university education. Although grateful for this privilege, I have not given myself the chance to step back completely and focus only on the education piece. And now that I am starting the Master of Social Work program at University of Waterloo/Renison College, I want to give myself that opportunity. I want to be fully present, to grow personally and professionally. I can do the Masters program and practicum in Saskatchewan, which I didn’t realize until recently. This makes this huge change possible.
They say that home is not a place but a feeling, and my heart wants to be with my kids and grandkids who live in Saskatchewan, and so I have a UHAUL truck booked for this July and I am moving to where my kids live. My youngest daughter is this strong, independent human and in the quiet moments I can see how my life without a mother touches how I raised her. The generational aspect of trauma, I recognize now. She’s the Paperbag Princess who saves that prince! She’d be fine without me in her life daily. But my soul understands that I want to insert myself into her life, and that of my oldest son and his son, so that when my time comes to depart this life for the next, I leave rich memories and stories, not just stuff. Life is fleeting. So it’s time for me to go “home”.
I am scared. Happy. Peaceful. Unsure. Grateful. I want to stay. And I know I need to go. My wages from the Village, when I took them, were humble at best, and so I worry about how to pay for the high expenses of moving and setting up life out West. I worry about leaving the people of our community.
Critics of the Village have long said that our area did not have (insert social condition here) until The Village started “giving people free stuff.” Homelessness didn’t exist, substance dependency became more visible-you name it and we have been vocally incriminated in causing it! (laughing through my tears, right now!). I read a quote recently that said something like, What profound privilege it must be to think that something didn’t happen or exist until you say it did. Our communities have HUMAN issues, because we are HUMAN. Where there are people, there will be conditions. Where there is business, there will be people prospering off the labour and unfair treatment of others. Where there is ego, there will be unacceptable leadership. But where there is genuine care and compassion, there can be inclusion and love. And that’s what I am riding off into the sunset on…all this love we have created together.
I have given June 5th as the formal end date for my role at The Village. I am gently giving myself grace, grieving, trying to feel excitement for this next huge step, and pack up my life. It’s so hard to let go, and I know that the Board of Directors is working through scenarios for what is best for the Village. It’s alot of work and money to run it, and so there are many considerations. I suspect they will inform us all soon of what their decision is.
How do I say goodbye? I sob as I write that. Can we just say “Until then”? ❤️
I am posting a photo of my humble little home in Saskatchewan. I am hoping that I can someday build a porch on the front and watch the Northern Lights at night, my heart so full of the memories of our time together.
Take good care of eachother, friends.
Warmth and love,
Andrea
