Re-Learning Grief

 

Grief is ugly, raw, and visceral; yet in no way, does it give permission for one hurting individual, to cause pain for another.

This Blog is dedicated to those who were caught in my cross-hairs of anguish nearly ten years ago, in hopes the light overcomes the shadows.

Each of us can look back on our lives and see profound moments where we would want to remove instances where we could obliterate the pain caused by rash decisions, engraved with pain, and altering our lives, where we cry out in sorrow.

I’ve been held to these moments; circumstances where I instead of honouring ones memory; I made a choice to let my heartache override all else.

When on December 12, 2011 I helped to compose the obituary of my 21-year-old daughter Shayla; I failed to include certain others who loved her, her were grieving her loss and who were truly innocent- yet found themselves caught up in the cross-hairs of immeasurable loss.

This summer, a rebounding release of sorrow was delivered m way with heart-wrenching impact.

It took me nearly ten years to understand how the enemy Never forgets, but there is Hope...

When my only child died suddenly in a tragic car wreck, before Christmas 2011, I took to heart the words…the pen is mightier than the sword and in my anger of an estranged, dysfunctional family, I aimed to cut out any loved ones who had caused me pain; those I could not collectively grieve with.

Over the years, I convinced myself that I was innocent in doing such a hurtful thing; yet a part of me took out my anger on those who may have been distant from me— yet loved Shayla profusely!

Years later, I would be asked to lead a faith-based course called “GriefShare.”

My first reaction was to pass.

I questioned how I could possibly lead others in bereavement? When I myself had messed up badly…handling those connected to my daughter’s loss.

Still, I felt this course placed upon my heart.

I went into getting facilitated, by acknowledging that I was the ‘blank canvas/the clay... with the Lord being the artist and the potter’.

God’s reminder…He was not finished with me and I still had to learn that in my loss…I was not alone.

I had previously been a part of The Compassionate Friends Of Canada http://tcfcanada.net/

and also The Hospice in Langley ( where I took part in a 8 month bereavement support group). 

I learned I had the right to grieve; even express anger...but in a safe environment. 

Having a child die and later leading a 5 month Bereavement course, does not make me an expert on loss...no, it gave me a better insight into my own grieving process. 

I spent the summer taking the course; watching videos, writing in my workbook ~ all things that would be required of those who I would led (guided by God).

The course was very specific…that if I were hanging onto anger and residual heartache, connected to others…I would be in no shape to be a leader.

I knew I would have to readdress the original Obituary I had composed years earlier and do a re-write…to finish what I had started and to seek peace and forgiveness for the one person who was my worst enemy, who loathed my actions…myself.

The following is my revisions. One that with clarity, I realized its long overdue – in print. Keep in mind, I am certain someone was still overlooked, yet I tried my very best, holding out on Hope that others know where they were placed in Shayla’s life. …

 One of the shining...

...stars upon this earth has found her place in heaven.

Shayla Rae Dawn Driver (Alton) was taken from us suddenly as a result of a tragic car accident on McKinley Landing Monday, December 12, 2011.Shayla had travelled from her home in Kamloops to Kelowna to visit family and welcome the newest addition, a baby boy named Harrison Alton. One week later, Shayla was to have travelled to her mother's home in the Fraser Valley and celebrate Christmas with the two of them spending the holidays in Victoria. During the 21 years she spent with family, friends and those who loved her; her vibrancy was felt in everything she did and the compassion she showed to countless others was immeasurable. When Shayla walked into a room, her lively laughter filled every inch of it and when she left it, the love Shayla contained was released; shining goodness unto others.

Her devotion to helping those less fortunate knew no bounds; from her involvement with the homeless, poverty stricken, survivors of abuse, those who had mental health issues and at-risk aboriginal youth, her body had to grow to accommodate her immense, kind heart. Shayla was a warrior in that she stood up for others and her own beliefs; she was naturally drawn to those who were as unique as she was. Her love of everything colorful saw Shayla change her hair color to suit whatever mood she felt and evoked a sense of eclectic fashion style which reflected her rainbow spirit.

Her faith was the source of her true roots; for Shayla’s baptism and devotion to the one who came to save us; reigned deep in her life.

Her aboriginal roots were important; as she embraced who she believed she was and took great pride in playing the Honour Drum she was given at her Kelowna Senior Secondary graduation by Richard Gauthier.

In August 2011, Shayla fulfilled a childhood dream, along with her mother when they travelled to Disney world. It was her wish to see the Magical Kingdom and castle. As the sky lit up with a kaleidoscope of fireworks, the girl who wished upon a star became the Princess, we already knew she was.

Now, as her life has been sadly taken, the loss of Shayla has had a ripple effect on this world. She was predeceased by her Auntie Marilyn Sinoski, who now joins her in peace.

Shayla is survived by and will be lovingly be remembered by her mother, Tonya Alton (Paul Padgett who many times was the reason Shayla was able to travel and see them. Her father, David Alton, her brother Gary Alton, and sister-in-law Christel Alton, along with their baby boy, Harrison Alton. Her sister Kimberly Osborne, nephew Mason Osborne, niece, Parker Osborne, Faye Osborne, and family. Shayla also leaves behind her two cousins Matthew and Tristan Murphy, her Uncle Brad Murphy, and Beloved Aunt Mara, who loved Shayla dearly.

In grieving her loss, is her grandmother Dee McQuay, who Shayla spent many summers with on Vancouver Island, creating special memories together.

She leaves behind to mourn numerous extended family.

Also left in sorrow are David Wilson, Joanne and Barry Wilson and family.

Shayla’s extended family Aunty Lori, Sean, Melissa, Brian Lightle, Aunty Leeann, Devon and Dawson Frayn, Sherry Brown, and endless friends, including Chantelle Carriere, Jaclyn Porter, KK and so many more.

Shayla’s connections to Salmon Arm and the Falkland area, gave her mother a chance to express with deepest gratitude, the pursuit of forgiveness in the form of a special Sitka Tree.

A service to Celebrate the life of this amazing angel will be held on Tuesday, December 20 at First Memorial Funeral Services 1211 Sutherland Avenue in Kelowna at 11:11 am. Please wear something with the colours of the rainbow to reflect the vibrant girl, we all were touched dearly by. We request no flowers and in lieu of them and to honour Shayla, please make a donation to The United Way c/o the Homeless Action Plan in Kamloops or The Canadian Mental Health Association.

On behalf of the family of Shayla Rae Dawn Driver, we would like to extend our heartfelt thanks to those who tried to save our babygirl and those who supported us throughout this extremely difficult time. Our sincere thanks to the Doctors and Nurses who worked so incredibly hard on Shayla at Kelowna General Hospital. We know you share in our great loss. To the Constables both in Kelowna and Surrey who dealt with us and stayed with our families, we are deeply grateful. Thank You to Cst. Tim Monteith, Cst. Steven Holmes, Cst. Baker, Cst. Williams and deepest gratitude to Sheldon Herman who was willing to risk his life to try and save our daughter. To Betty Noble, you gave all of us peace with you sharing our daughters final moments. To Wayne Laurie from Mountain Peak Ministries, words cannot express how much your presence was appreciated. To Sandy from the Surrey Victims Services, thank you for being there, when the devastating news was given. Our family would like to let the woman who was following Shayla know, there was absolutely nothing you could have done to save her on that treacherous road! Our beloved babygirl has spread her wings and remains the brightest star to always remind us of her love, legacy, and 21 years on this earth.

In the Beatitudes Matthew 5:3 -12...each begins with Blessed are... 

·       ...the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven. (5:3)

·       ...those who mourn: for they will be comforted. (5:4)

·       ...the meek: for they will inherit the earth. (5:5)

·       ...those who hunger and thirst for righteousness: for they will be filled. (5:6)

·       ...the merciful: for they will be shown mercy. (5:7)

·       ...the pure in heart: for they will see God. (5:8)

·       ...the peacemakers: for they will be called children of God. (5:9)

·       ...those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (5:10)

 In my re-do, I understand that every step of the way; hard as it has been…God continues to be my personal guide to Peace, Forgiveness and...

HEALING.

https://youtu.be/tDiG3Nxm7CU  Riley Clemmons VIDEO

By Tonya L Alton

Revelations

 

An amazing daughter...not just mine but to so many others xo

Standing on a stage with 21 others, I looked out beyond the vast field and to the tall grasses, multitude of trees and the overflowing waters. Each of us held a small flat box that inside contained life. As the daylight peeked through, the tree branches outstretched to the setting sun, we carefully opened our precious treasures and out flew twenty-one Vanessa Cardui’s- better known as the Painted Lady butterflies. These flapping pieces of fragility, migrate to vast locations to Britain, where their travels consist of a round trip from Europe to Africa. Further studies shown an extensive journey takes place all over the continent, in various weather conditions, which are mind boggling. 

In my research, I discovered a video on a phenomenon that takes place in Mexico. This link to the amazing voyage of these spectacular beauties, is an endearing reminder to protect them.

https://youtu.be/3njFNmc-W2k

Looking back to that day in the park and a group of us releasing the 21 butterflies to carry on their thousand + miles, I know I was in an influx of mania, depression, followed by extreme anxiety and grief. If I could have a do over (many of which are connected with death), I would have simply had this event be in celebration of my daughter…. that spoke volumes on transformation, struggles, overcoming and a short life span.

I have completely shift away from the events I had hosted in previous years, on an ambitious scale. Challenges came from the grandeur of a mental disorder that can take on epic proportions.

What I have learned in the past 10 years- in times of helping those in need, was that joy brought to others does not have to come in extravagance- rather in various balls of colorfully knitted scarves, toques and mitts, a box of cupcakes, and slices of pizza’s shared. All of which were on a smaller extent yet had a lot of positive effect.

In some instances, the Maxes and Gigi’s of the world I’ve met, wanted to be seen and share some of the emptiness they felt.

In summer, my own travels have seen me on my new journey in hopes of surgery. I was given a new beginning and it has taken a great deal of time, in my undisclosed location, to feel settled.

Upon my arrival, I was greeted with the following magnet…one that welcomed me beyond the torn pages, I left behind.

In writing this post and still with the side effects of my strokes, it is my hope to commemorate the memories of my daughter Shayla, who passed away December 12, 2011 and give my respects to another young woman, who I never had the chance to say Thank you to her. 

As I sift through my Photo Archives to see what images I had left to share; this prompted me to be filled with sorrow.

In one of my bereavement groups, I learned there comes a time, when long after your loved one has passed away and the multiplicity of tears have been shed, that suddenly you realize there are no longer “new images” to post.

You feel your heart sinking, as the rawness of your loss reminds you there was no Christmas 2011 with Shayla in it or her 22^nd Birthday in February, to upload.

I set out this week to spend hours looking through 21 years of a life cut short. In going back to a time where I had continual shelter, food, love, and health, I found a series of pictures taken at a location that remains undisclosed.

In the past, I made the mistake of openly sharing where a release of pebbles had been left, only to hear much later that the area, had been horribly vandalized.

I found an Album that was marked ‘A special place’. It was a location we frequented when Shayla came for her visits over the years, to see us.

Laughter erupted from the time she opened the door, or I would pick her up, while my partner braced himself for the two of us arrive back. Jokes were cracked, hugs given, new music shared, and we would talk of our passion for quotes.

Recently, I heard the following by Jules Verne who once wrote, “Put two ships in the open sea without wind or tide, it will come together.” 

Since her passing, many releases of stones have taken place, in her memory and also the planting of some snowberry bushes. Although I cherish the things done to remember her by, I also miss her calling me “Momma,” the way her skin smelled of “Angel” perfume, her hugs that felt as if we were touching hearts and her dancing. No matter when or where, if a beat of music played, she broke into ballet, hip-hop or a complete number inspired by the way she felt.

I have been fortunate, in the four years of the movement I created and stories I wrote about pebble releases; it has brought me great comfort. When others who may not have known Shayla; paid tribute to her and her love of rockhounding through over 300 + pebbles all over our world…they acknowledge who she was.

As I uploaded photographs, I found in my collection, the amazing picture~ which remains one of my favourites. It was after the loss of my daughter and my first Mother’s Day without her in 22 years. A treasured friend had coupled her heartstrings with mine and she did an incredibly large release over a pier that was quite memorable!

A Beautiful Release...

As we were walking, I could see a rainbow sunset like no other! To this day, it is one of my cherished photo’s of the Heavenly Father’s paintbrush across the canvas of life; a beautiful reminder of a passage that speaks to me:

“God goes right for the heart. It is where He meets us. It is where He evaluates us. It is where He desires that the flame of an intimate, life-changing relationship with Him, be fanned into a great source of spiritual heart and light. He desperately seeks to dwell with us at the core…” ~Joseph Stowell

 I also realized those who had taken part over the years in the movement I created, were imbedded in my heart where my beliefs are. I have shared with many others that having faith does not mean I am without mistakes, no- to me being able to fold my hands in prayer, gives me peace and my transgressions have been given forgiveness.

This leads me to have extended compassion to many in my own life. That no matter the discord in relationships, there were endless memories that united us together.

Now, that seemed a lifetime ago and back at my laptop, I searched for ‘new’ photo’s to be shared. I found more of Shayla…well, simply being Shayla. If she could make you laugh at her expense…. she would.

Perusing my own pictures, I realized I am nearing that wall- the one you come too after countless years of snapshots, are dwindling. Where you wish for just one more funny, serious, silly, poignant, and beautiful image of your loved one, would appear.

Later, while looking at others brilliant photographs, I came across a beautiful picture that held an image, familiar to me. I reached out to the photographer Michael Russell. His prompt reply held words of sympathies and echoed his kindness, to a mother who misses their child.  

I am including a link to his brilliant creative gifts of photography, because this is the way I know how to express my gratitude, during a time, when society is isolated.

The wandering eye can ‘travel’ to Michael Russell’s vivid images and lets the viewer be taken on a journey of splendour, in the many images he has for purchase. 

 Photography Link: Michael Russell Photography

For me to be able to look at his photographs, it was a nice break away from my grief.

What has transpired this past week…is the unravelling of a thread connected to tragic loss -one in which found its way- still attached to me. It was when I researching about an event that I stumbled upon a blurb about my daughter in the Issue of TRU Bridges 2012 Issue No.#7 TRU Alumni and Friends Magazine

Shayla Driver was a graduate of the Human Service Diploma in 2011, working towards her BSW at TRU. She was actively involved in projects addressing the homeless and other marginalized groups, with services to Aboriginal students, and with the Gathering Place. An eager, highly engaged student, she was working hard towards the goal of being a social worker and was always prepared to contribute more to others.

What I read was something I had not seen before. Someone had taken the time to write a beautiful summary of my daughter. While alive, Shayla had raised funds and awareness, for something her heart believed in.  A true movement of Hope, encouragement, leadership, and purpose, set in motion by Katherine McParland. During the years Shayla was a student at Thompson Rivers University, her dedication to helping others spanned those who were addicted, at risk, struggling with mental health/wellness and homelessness.

Growing up, my daughter had assisted me numerous times in assemblies that gave back to those in need. In the late summers, my mania would conjure up grand events; always resisting the idea of ‘simpler is better.’

However, it was when the mania subsided that a simpler notion of letting others remind me of the purpose and the privilege of helping those in need, came to fruition.

One of the best events I hosted for non-profit was on a bitter winter’s night, as people listened to local music, drank free cocoa. As the recipients of donated bags of winter clothes and goodies gathered, I could see Shayla in the crowd, with the biggest smile and contentment.

After she had passed, all of the left-over food from the Celebration of Life, was also donated to the same Mission Outreach.

It is these reminders that also shines on someone who is to be remembered for her strength of character, her dedicated measures of raising more than awareness, funds, and support of those in need.

I also believe my attempts, fed by the delusions of my mania, were steppingstones that Shayla would take, to see her participate in something that had a leader at the helm, who was far more capable.

When I first heard the Skylar Grey’s lyrics to: Everything I need…I broke down in heaping sobs. I knew in my fragile heart that it was a song Shayla would have shared with me…

Born on the wrong side of the ocean
With all the tides against you
You never thought you'd be much good for anyone
But that's so far from the truth

I know there's pain in your heart
And you're covered in scars
Wish you could see what I do…

Shayla thought that although I was a hard fragmented stone, I only needed love, patience and understanding, to become polished.

In terms of writing…I felt I was the unfinished ‘rough draft.’

 Looking back on the months of this years displacement, as I settled into the nighttime, I would pull down my visor to block out the oncoming lights of the traffic. There would fall down upon me, a picture I had of Shayla. The biting irony was I wore it in a walk to help those truly homeless. I would look at my daughter’s picture and then myself in the rear-view mirror and choke back on the hate I had for myself as a person and who I had become. Pounding my fist on the dashboard, I was sickened for being thankful my daughter could not see me as a mother fail! Getting on my cell phone, anything to distract myself, I would go to find Christian songs, or verse to pull me out of the wicked headspace the enemy was anxious to keep me locked in. I was frantic with my obsessive thoughts about the news story I had given and was sick with worry about dying in my vehicle. The biting cool night air piercing the veil of darkness, reminded me that I was in no shape to have spoken to the press.

So, the one page I’ve tried unsuccessfully to tear away, is about a person who has been made better by the truths of who I have been…a grieving mother, someone who lives with two disorders, a stroke survivor and a yes…a person, who was without a home.

There were many nights, I often cried myself to sleep in my vehicle- for those I felt guilty of- lives shattered still on the streets. These were souls who I gravitated to because of lonliness, and also I felt closer to Shayla. My daughter always took the time to listen to their stories; without judgment. She knew from watching me connect with those I felt more at ease, came from walking a mile in someone else’s shoes. They have taught me more about serving in ways that matter. As well, I learned to be humble and understand the importance of not be ashamed for the life experiences I had found myself in.

In those nights when I struggled to make sure I was breathing the next day, there was a song that wrapped me in arms I could not see, in my need to be held.

Its by Leanna Crawford and became an anthem song of Hope that I would blast in my car.

Video Link~ The Truth I'm Standing On Leanna Crawford

Scared, oh I thought I knew scared... Now I’m so filled with fear, I can barely move. Doubts, I’ve had my share of doubts. But never more than right now, I’m wondering where You are? I’m on the edge of fall apart. But somehow, Your promises Find my troubled heart... This is the truth I’m standing on... Even when all my strength is gone, You are faithful forever, and I know You’ll never Let me fall…

This is also applied to the passage of my own personal grief, when I feel so overwhelmed and alone in this world.

I speak from my bereavement and having taught a course, led by the Lord, I know no one has the right to tell another how to mourn the loss of their loved ones.

Back when Shayla was a TRU Student, she took part twice in an event called: “Camp out on Campus” that was the non-profit creation of the late Katherine McParland.

 Katherine passed away on December 4^th (of undisclosed causes). McParland had openly shared her experiences of earlier life being homeless and was quoted as a ‘woman of action.’

Unknowingly, Katherine had impacted my life and also Shayla’s, as she participated in a worthy cause that had been done right, with the benefits of being successful and impactive.

I have been humbled to read in the news, over $75,000 has been raised for Camp Out to End Youth Homelessness 2020| A Way Home Kamloops. This annual event surpassed the initial goal of $50,000.

While each of us has pages they would like to remove from their lives, I respect and regard Katherine McParland for the way she took hold of her chapters and truly advocated for those marginalized.

I extend my condolences to the family of a young woman I never met, who influenced my daughter, in such a positive way of leadership and a heart for those homeless.

As parents, we lament our own ways, over the passing of our daughters and the continual lessons they are both still giving in ways… that go beyond all measures.

By Tonya L Alton

After ~ Repurpose Part 2 * Trigger Warnings

 

People Forget. After awhile, their struggles may fall by the wayside and a level of comfort sets in.  ~ Our Daily Bread

What happens when those cherished moments of life, overcoming, healing and hope become the building blocks that are needed to prevent us from making the same mistake repeatedly?

 Where more lessons are needed to be learned, as the past gets shrugged off and turned into a ‘Oh never again’ passage of false security.

What if the darkness that threatens to consume is shattered by the love of serving others?...

Repurposing is the process by which an object with one use, is transformed as an object with an alternative use of value. 

Reaching into the back of my vehicle, I pulled something out…knowing this would be a turning point for me.

It was a plaque that I carried with me, tucked inside my Bible. The words fading, it was a reminder of who is in control. Unzipping the case, I opened the pages of scripture. I saw my handwritten scribble on pieces of many post notes fall out…

Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way. ~ Deuteronomy 8:2

People forget…

These words are now replayed in my stroke mind and written down on various pieces of paper; as my memory has only a short turn around.

A dear friend, Judy, gifted me a bag full of goodies. She bought me a unique note pad that I tear off at least 25 pages a day; all around the plaque that reminds me of who leads the way. Inside the bag, was a box that held a set of beautiful butterfly earrings. This a connection to our daughters who have passed and the unity of Transformation. 

Upon receiving the items, I remember several years earlier, when I was at the home of another sister in Christ. Being my first time of experiencing displacement …Terry had taken it upon herself to share with her close friends of my predicament. She then invited me over and I was blessed to spend an afternoon, being the receiver instead of the giver.

I have not forgot my emotions, my gratitude, my release of joy. These are long lasting memories that hold joy.

Yet now in my car, the enemy was thrusting upon me his many lies. I reached into the side pocket of my Bible cover to discover a Tim Horton’s card from my dear friend Cindy. During this time of upheaval, she had sent me many gift cards from Tim Hortons and also McDonalds. Those cards helped feed me many times and were also shared with those in need. My blessings, were furthered by the purchases of donuts and hot beverages for others. 

I knew exactly what God wanted me to do and that was to disperse from the area wreaking havoc on my emotions …and to leave immediately!

I looked down upon my gas gauge on E. I was prompted to go check my bank account that spends more time idling in the negative. It warmed my heart to see two friends had put a deposit to fill up my tank.

They did not forget…

After refueling, I drove to my favourite Tim Horton’s where the staff and most patrons knew me. Reaching in the back of my vehicle, I grabbed the full bag of knitted winter goods, made with love from my friend Dela.

Dela's yard of knitted comforts

Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace. 1 Peter 4:10

As I stood beside my car, I asked God… “Show me the way to who is in need tonight.”

It was then I spotted ‘her.’ From afar, I could see she was less dressed on a bitterly cold night. She had jet black hair and a cast on her leg.

*(Some Details have been changed to protect the true identity of this person).

As I approached, I noticed several vehicles and scanned to ensure this woman’s procurer was nowhere near. I have encountered my fair share of handlers- who saw me as an interrupter of their business. They were less than impressed when I offered to buy their girl’s a coffee or donut and linger to have a chat.

Tonight, I needed a distraction or even more so a connection.  I was happy to engage in conversation with *Gigi. When I opened my bag of scarves, toques and such hand knitted by Dela, I could see Gigi’s eyes light up. She grabbed out a pink scarf and hesitated to retrieve anything else. I encouraged her to look some more and there she discovered a toque with colours to match her beautiful soul. Vibrant she was and I commented on her curly hair.

Her eyes looked downcast as she leaned into me, she murmured, “It’s a wig.”

I looked surprized and replied, “Oh my! I never would have known.”

When she leaned towards me again, I was not prepared for her next reply, “ One night, I came back with less amount of money my man thought I should have earned, and he lit my real hair on fire!”

It was now my turn for the whites of my eyes to show the shock on my face. My lip began to tremble, and I remembered another ‘lady of the night’ share that when I was helping them…never show pity! It was already difficult for them.

She added, “That’s nothing sweetie” …as she pointed to her leg in a cast that had been butchered by something.

“…I broke my leg awhile back and Oh boy, He would beat me every time I came back short. No one wants to be with someone who can’t deliver the full goods! So, I went and bought a small saw and tried hacking the cast off myself! I broke the dang saw and gave up.”

I stood there stunned. Burning up with anger- at how one human being feels entitlement over another- as a commodity of goods to be bought, sold, traded, and mistreated.

LINK:  Lacey's Hope Project

I tried hard to collect myself.  Looking at Gigi, I showed her my Tim Horton’s card,

“ A dear friend gifts these to me. I wondered if I can get you anything?”

She smiled and with a wink, simply asked for a coffee and  a donut.

As I entered inside, my mind fumbled around the words I had read in Our Daily Bread:

“Father, forgive me for the times when temptation has won in my life. Help me always to run to you for forgiveness and to seek forgiveness of others when needed.”

Standing in the long line, I realized I have been Gigi in my life, taking part in nights, where the enemy was deemed master over me.

Quickly though, my emotions switched to anger, as I felt my stroke brain cluttering up my thoughts. It can happen so fast- a reversal in my memory loop that can take me to dark places.

Abruptly I recalled with despair the past year and how I had left the highway to get away from the negative, obsessive thoughts of my PTSD only to mull over: 

“Lord, in 2020, I remained single, did not date or be with anyone!  So why God did you bring me here tonight?”

I felt the response settle upon me…

“Because, the enemy knows you are fighting against him and so he tried to lure you down a different road that surely would have cost you your life tonight. I brought you a distraction...one in which you could relate to.”

My stomach began to twist, as often I can miss the point; made worse by my strokes. Now I understood the purpose of meeting Gigi. I needed to be open to the many prayers I had said, to the highlighted scripture in my Bible and to seeing God in front of me...instead of always looking behind me. To realize the many times the Lord has walked me out of the darkness...if only I could see through the covered lens in front of me.

Returning outside, I gave Gigi the hot beverage and sprinkled donut. Looking at her thin, barely there jacket, I shared I would be right back and began to wander around the vehicles. I held in my hands the bag of goodies; I was about to use for barter. Keeping my distance, I had one kind customer, waiting in her truck. She took a scarf and a toque, in exchange for a woman’s jacket, she had in her back seat.

I walked up to Gigi and offered it to her. Handing over her coffee, she tried it on, and it was a nice snug, yet warm fit.

Gigi looked at me, as if I had given her the world. Tears began to pool and as we stood woman to woman, I looked deep into the recesses of her eyes.

I saw her anguish and understood what it feels like to be invisible in society. I know the importance of acknowledging someone exists. 

Even through my mask, I smiled and exclaimed:  I SEE YOU GIGI!

She nodded her head and thanked me with such profound conviction, I felt it!

Suddenly, Galatians 5:13 popped into my thoughts: Serve one another humbly in love.

Had my plans gone beyond counting steps to the highway, Gigi's life would not have intersected with mine. I would have sacrificed more than my life, but the ends to Eternity, Jesus and seeing my loved ones, including my beloved babygirl.  

Soon after I left, it did not bother me to be returning to my cold compartment. 

No, what mattered was that despite everything I had endured throughout the year, the purpose of my being, was to continue to serve and let go of any resentment I had- over all that had transpired this past, unforgettable year of 2020. 

This didn’t mean in exchange,  I was free of conflict. In fact, while I await surgery, I needed to refile my taxes and found out, I now owe money I do not have. Yet again, I know I am not alone in this predicament.

This also means that while Covid-19 has taken precedence over all other matters, I have been deeply blessed to have survived the pandemic- all the while being thrust out into it. 

As I wind up another year and move onward, there is reflection on where I was a year ago…much like countless others- I was financially stable and much healthier. 

Yet I can feel the assurance of the following mashed-up lyrics applying to me:

Where I see unworthy, you see ‘Savable,’

Where I see condemned, you see ‘Whole,’

Where I see derelict, you see ‘Salvageable.’

Let Faith Rise up…

Oh, heart believe

~Lauren Daigle

I drove back to my ‘spot’ at the Elk Lake Park location and gave Thanks to the Lord, for my car was more than a motor vehicle…it was an instrument of learning further about who I am, embracing the lessons God provided and shelter from the darkest storms.

By TL Alton

… Although my heart is torn…. I Will Praise YOU in the storm ~ Natalie Grant

Praise you in this Storm  ( Link to Watch Powerful Video)

 Original Casting Crowns song Dedicated to Emily 

RE-PURPOSE ~ Part 1 of 2

 

Sitting in my shelter, I looked out of my dampened window of my car to the illuminated sign that promised: “Welcome to Victoria.” I felt trapped in between the pane of glass that sheltered me from the dampness, but not the cold. In my mind I counted the steps to the stretch of busy nighttime highway and a way out of my icy misery.

The reality was I had managed to survive over 7 months of living in my mini car. Given there was blessings on and off the reprieves of kind strangers, some Air bnb’s, and two stays between friends I know how much more fortunate I was than others. Yet after my body had just been released from the shock and settled into the vast expansions of a comfortable bed, that same frame would being to seize upon knowing more isolated, cold night would be spent in confinement. In fact, I knew someone who had been in jail and once released for a crime of repeated stealing, they confided in me that back in the box was where they felt home at most. IN the tiny space of concrete surrounding them, it was like be tucked away safely into the womb from where they emerged. Another confession of feeling suicidal and overwhelmed with depression, hit them like the pounding surf. They would awaken on their bed in a halfway house, covered in sweat matching with nightmares of the sea consuming them. Psychologically, the damage of their experiences separated us as he candidly remarked: “I am an Atheist, but hey... you...you have faith.”

That memory was now replaying over in my Bipolar mind, again interrupted by the obsessive slow counting of steps to the Highway sign.

“This is not living…” my words hung into the dead of a frigid night.

My memories were playing heavily on my thoughts as I remembered only 7 years ago, I had packed up what was left of my deceased daughter’s belongings, tossed into boxes marked: “To go through.”

I was saying farewell to my fairy-tale long-term relationship that had been tainted with anger, lies and betrayal, on his part …mostly. Now I would restate that I too offered up my heaping’s of grief, delusions, mental health issues- but still staunch about no betrayal on my part. I was always loyal, to a man that now has found his way out of my heart and onto the pages of my never finished editing novel.

Once I was on Island terrain, I drove out to the ocean and let the salt settle in my lungs as I breathed in.

I bent down and smiled when I found a heart shaped pebble.

Actual Rose Quartz release (from Janay) in Hawaii

This Island was finally home…. Or so I thought.

Only 3 days later would I find myself the victim of a horrid crime that still has its stains upon me in my thoughts.

Many advised me it was a warning…a cautionary alert to advise me of danger, treachery, followed by this years sudden loss of a nephew I hardly knew, on top of family dysfunction...adding to more betrayal to come.

Back in my vehicle, displaced for months and suffering from malnutrition, the effects of strokes, the excruciating pain of fibroids and a hole in my heart, I also had the one component that many who incur it, will say is a beast. That of which is known as Isolation.

The earth now cradles that word within a invisible cloak of lonliness in hospitals, those needing elderly care, classrooms where students faces along with emotions are covered and empty churches (the ones choosing to remain closed), to name just a few. For me, months of isolation took me back to a place that was reminiscent of my unsettling childhood. In one of my previous posts, I shared about the implications of poverty in my life and the ripples of destitute to follow. This particular night, I spent hours thinking, mulling over, unearthing my fear of silence. In addition to the physical, mental, and sexual abuse I endured by my stepfather, my mother chose the tortuous means of ‘the silent treatment’, that when I went to school in my long turtlenecks, no one could see what the raw effects of her silence had done to me.

In a brutally honest article by Kellie Scott – ABC Life, she shared her own vivid memory of being traumatized by silence, and shared other quotes by those who had been wounded.

"It was the worst feeling. It's the pain inside that nobody can see." — Anonymous, 56 (email)

"Withdrawing love, I've learnt, is an excellent way to damage someone's psyche." — Carolyn (Facebook)

 LINK: The effects of the silent treatment in families and relationships - ABC Life

 Their quotes and the well-written, genuinely shared life experiences of being punished with silence, snaps back at me like a thick, rubber band.

My mother withheld her love in bouts of silence that could last for days. Already being groomed from by my Stepfather to remain silent about his abuse against me, I was a ping-pong thrust against an invisible player. Truth is…I never was inside my shell of a body enough, to know which opponent I was up against.

This thrust me forward into a world where I could not even stand a second of silence…with my daughter, in relationships with my partners, or even on the phone. It is as if I must fill every minute with some noise- in order to not feel rejected!

Now sitting in my car, alone, displaced, battling my health and my own self…I was unsure I would make it out of this horrible experience alive.

Only later, would I realize the major breakthrough that occurred inside my confined space...much as I did with the roots of my poverty!

That night, in need of a bathroom, I drove into Elk Park. I knew the bathrooms so well, I mindlessly walked down the darkened path leading to the woman’s washrooms. As I casually walked past the men’s bathroom, the hairs on my neck stood up. My eyes darted right to the open door, where a man was hiding in the shadows. My body started to shake, and I realized I could be in danger. With no one around, I felt my best option was to go into the ladies room and lock the door. I was closer to the washrooms than I was my car. My mind racing, I didn’t know who to call ( I had my phone as I had used the flashlight). I knew seeking the Police would not be the best choice. I left soon after and could see the man was still hiding. My feet carried me faster than I though possible and I drove away bursting into tears and a major anxiety attack. As a Survivor of assault, I knew I had been triggered and could not sleep as I usually did at the entrance of the park. Therefore, I drove into the city to the local Tim Horton’s. I saw many of the homeless I had come to know and suddenly, I felt at ease.

One of the other unsettling encounters occurred when I was parked on the side of the road. I awoke one September morning- my car covered with dust from the road. Most of the time, I tried to get some rest on the passenger side, with my sleeping bag wrapped around me. Upon waking, I felt uneasy. As I wiped the sleep from my tired eyes, I squinted at my windshield and my heart was beating faster. For there on the passenger side of the glass separating me from the outside world, was a pair of large handprints. They were ominous enough to let me know that someone had stopped long enough to have a look in. Many thoughts raced through my mind…who had been so brazen to watch me sleep? Or maybe…just maybe…it was someone concerned enough to wonder if I was dead or alive?

Either way, I was left visibly shaken. So much so... that only a very few in the medical field know my exact location and a handful of entrusted friends know my true location, in case of emergency. 

This stress of what I encountered does not make for the ideal conditions to recover from strokes- besides the fact I was living in my miniature car. I would later be told the side effects of my strokes were playing havoc on me as well. I found myself crying at inappropriate times or verbalizing insensitive thoughts. I was frustrated when my words were in a jumble and I struggled with my memory loss. This may be the result of what is known as PBA (Pseudobulbar effect); a common medical condition following stroke.

Often, in my parked car, I would suddenly burst into tears and pound my fists on the steering wheel.

The one night I stared at the highway blurred lines, a windstorm mixed with thrashing rain, had picked up significantly. My emotions matched the ever-growing deluge- separating me from it was the metal shelter, I was blessed to be protected by.

I knew I had a choice…as every variable in my life had come down to good vs. evil.

Reaching into the back of my vehicle, I pulled something out…knowing this would be a turning point for me.

By TL Alton

Re-direct!

I have a small poster that rides with me on my dashboard. It sums up 7 months of displacement, and of sudden loss- my brother’s young son who died this summer. I read the passage on the poster and I am reminded how I sat for two days in an ICU, while my brother’s life was in peril. He almost died and all I could do was offer a pale trembling hand of comfort, a worn photo of my late daughter and my silver cross.

Upon returning to live out of my car, I sat in the passenger seat, hands folded together and asking God, “I know this is not your plans for me Lord, please help me to re-direct… and change me for the better!

Back on the Island, I prayed over the surgeries I need, and I was able to establish somewhat of a sleep schedule in my mini car. I usually awaken at 4- 5am to a very cold interior. However, with a fumble for the keys, within 15 minutes, I have a heated vehicle.

Over the course of this year, being without a home, I’ve been asked as to why I financed such a tiny car? This amuses me because I could not foresee two things- COVID-19 and myself rendered without shelter. In the area I safely park, I look around at the ‘family’ of others who are also now ‘car-camping’….. there are vans, RV’s, trucks with canopies and I have even seen bigger cars than mine outfitted and better equipped.

I believe I was naïve in my purchase as I thought if I bought the smallest car possible, then I would never be forced to sleep in it.

This was just one of many things that challenged me….and changed me during 2020!

Throughout this experience, I found comfort in the music I listen to on PRAISE 106.5 FM. A song that is on continuous re-loop in my head is the duet “There was Jesus” by Zach Williams and Dolly Parton. I’ve written before of Zach’s own battles with addictions and other challenges. This is why I’m drawn to his lyrics because they are believable.

In the waiting, in the searching
In the healing, in the hurting
Like a blessing buried in the broken pieces
Every minute, every moment
Where I've been or where I'm going
Even when I didn't know it
Or couldn't see it
There was Jesus…

There is a lot to be said for waking up in a chilly small space yet being able to turn on the heat and access the radio; both of which warm up the soul.  

I also listen to “Focus on the Family” and I feel better connected to this world. It helps me to re-direct where I am and what lays ahead of my day. I also have found reason to give a lot of Praise, over the recent events unfolding due to a great deal of people praying for me.

During the months passed, I have received many messages from those sharing they were keeping me in prayers and favour. Friends shared how their congregations had been holding me in prayer. On days when I felt less than whole and fighting the ailments I have- especially my heart and fibroids, I had to learn to redirect my pain and give thanks to those praying for me!

“Gratitude is our lifeline to JOY” ~ PRAISE 106.5 FM

The other morning, I was awake at 4:30 am, as the cold was biting through my layers of clothes. I turned on the radio to begin listening to Focus on the Family Speaker Patsy Clairmont.  

20 minutes later and I was hooked on the way she had spoken of serious subject matter- yet laced it with humour. She openly shared of her anxiety and of being abused as a 9-year-old little girl. The following is an excerpt from that presentation:

She mentioned of being confined in bed, still trapped in her younger self’s body, and asking God to give her the bigger picture for more bigger things. Yet she could not even handle the little things…like getting out of bed. As a married woman, she enrolled in Counselling, only to discover that she would be put to task when asked to not complain, whine, or exaggerate any situation, in addition to putting boundaries at her emotions. Patsy scoffed at the notion and laughed at the very thought of any of these suggestions. Her Counsellor also advised her to put the shards of life- the fragments into a Kaleidoscope and look at the great work of Christ that has been done in you! Patsy quoted scripture and from Proverbs: “It is a wise person to restrain their lips!” She burst into laughter as she relayed her reaction to her Counsellor suggesting Patsy go on a “Word Diet!”

The more I listened, the more I realized why I was connected to her speaking…my life mirrored a lot of what she honestly imparted. Patsy ended her talk by sharing her hunger for HOPE and Positivity!

When a visit to the local bookstore permits- there are plenty of self-help books that are able to place a bandage over the wounds, but it takes someone in the trenches- whose tenacity has spurred a relatable connection. The source of our unhappiness can be rooted far deeper than simply believing "WE Rock!"

These programs have been what I call Well Worship…because I have felt my empty well be refilled with encouragement, the spoken word and song.

The next morning, I tuned in to hear a rousing rendition of “Amazing Grace.” If ever a song can deliver emotion, it is this one. I titled my seat back and extended out my arms. My raspy voice joined in the words…” that saved a wretch like me.”  Soon, the tears were flowing and anyone driving on by, had quite the sight to see!

On another brisk autumn evening, I checked my messages before partaking in the hour + it takes for me to ‘settle in.’ A song that also evokes a great deal of emotion, is called “The Blessing” and is sung by the married couple Kari Jobe and Cody Carnes, along with Elevation Worship. The powerful words are riveting and redirected me to another door opening…. with scripture shared in a heartfelt message from a dear sister in Christ, Leanna:

Psalm 118: 5-7

When hard pressed, I cried to the Lord;

he brought me into a spacious place.

The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid.

What can mere mortals do to me?

The Lord is with me; he is my helper.

I look in triumph on my enemies.

Turns out that often we pray for something and think to ourselves Oh, this is what God meant….and then the tides turn in a redirection, which makes us question even more.

This is the case, as after 7 months of driving, breathing, sleeping, and surviving in my vehicle, an opportunity has opened for me, to my next chapter. At first, I believed it was connected solely to my health and my surgical procedures, yet as that one chapter remains…it is not the priority I now see unfolding.

As one chapter comes to an end and the chance to move somewhere (the location is undisclosed as to protect me), I look back on the valued contributions in the 7 years I lived on the Island. This points to how the Lord had me serve. Recently, I was gifted a bagful of knitted toques by a lady whose parents were Pastors and her brother’s missionaries. During the pandemic she has knitted and covered her trees in their yard with brightly coloured yarn objects. This spring, when I worked in construction, my driving route took me past her and her husbands home and I delighted in seeing the vibrant corner lot.

She contacted me and asked if I still wanted to go out and connect with those marginalized, by gifting them, her warm, knitted items. I saw it as a wonderful opportunity to redirect my own pain; by choosing to serve those with far greater needs. This blesses me to serve in a satisfying way. 

It also has helped me let go of the idea that I struggle with...one in which I am misguided to believe I need to earn my own worth; as I already have it, in the eyes of the grandest creator.

The following verse from Leanna Crawford's song: The Truth I'm Standing On... reflects on this perfect progress:

Right now I'm choosing to believe
Someday soon I'll look back and see
All the pain had a purpose
Your plan was perfect all along
This is the truth I'm standing on ~ Leanna Crawford

It means to me that a new and promising chapter lay ahead….one in which I am to follow this redirection, while God leads!

By Tonya L Alton