THE VIEW FROM MY WINDOW - LISE SIMPSONPeace on Earth, Goodwill Towards Men I have always loved Christmas cards that feature a cozy, old fashioned village scene. You know the kind...soft yellow light spills warmly from store windows, and snow falls gently down while happy villagers do their shopping and greet each other with smiles and hugs. Score extra points if there’s a horse drawn carriage thrown in there too, or a group of kids having a snowball fight, or even better, a frozen pond where people are skating. What I really love about these types of pictures is the notion that these village residents are happy together in their town. They feel connected, they feel safe; they feel a sense of belonging. Perhaps it’s my British heritage that is to blame for my delight over this concept of village life. Armstrong, certainly a village by current global standards, has completely satisfied my hopelessly romantic notions. Recent tragedy has struck my lovely village and shaken my faith right to the core. In particular, the brutal murder of a sweet, wonderful young woman on Halloween has frightened and saddened me nearly beyond words. My childish image of a Dickens-like village full of happy people feels shattered. Someone has taken my snow globe world and cracked it wide open. Our innocence is lost, and I never even really knew how much I needed it. It would be so easy to allow these events to begin to subtly alter the way I believe in this town, and the people in it. As if I had been poisoned, I felt myself growing cold. I felt, and yielded to, a strong temptation to burrow snugly into my safe little home, and wrap myself in a cloak of doubt and sorrow. But after a few days of tucking myself away from the world, I began to sense through phone calls, texts, and Facebook, that we were all feeling the stirrings back towards believing. Things began to happen. Friends began talking about turning our fear and anger and sorrow into action of some kind. A grassroots “take back the night” movement was born, with masses of people walking together around town. The community began to organize fund raisers for the families struggling with their loss. People showed such courage, such activism, turning their pain not inward, but outward, in a display of love and support that rekindled in me a desire to believe again. A quote from the Dalai Lama: “I find hope in the darkest of days”. So in those darkest of days, I found myself believing again. I am forever altered, it’s true. I have lost some of my innocence. My heart bleeds for the pain still being felt by the families of those affected by the recent sorrows. But I have hope for the future. I believe with all my heart in the basic goodness of mankind. I believe in the power of unity, the power of community, the power of connectedness. My snow globe was cracked but with a little help from my village, I glued it back together and now it is stronger than ever. From the bottom of my heart, may I express my condolences to those who have suffered unspeakable sorrow. I hope that they can feel the waves of love and support that flow through this lovely little town and the surrounding towns. And I hope that someday, one day, they will feel the stirrings of hope in their darkness. Perhaps the warm glow of Christmas lights can act as a beacon for them. Merry Christmas, everyone. Lise Simpson has lived with her family in Armstrong for 14 years, and would not return to the Coast for any sum of money in any global currency. She is a terrible poker player, and becomes alarmingly agitated if delivered late to an airport. She enjoys pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain. 
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