HUMANKIND

 

The last of the human freedoms is to choose one’s attitudes ~ Victor Frankl

I have this reoccurring dream. I am laying on a beach, where the grains of sand are as white as pearls. The warmth I am receiving upon my backside, feels like mother nature’s heating pad. The globe suspended in the sky- the smoldering sun, makes my tongue feel thick, with the absence of the cool liquid I am yearning for. The irony of a thousand miles of sprawling ocean before me, settles within. Should I take a drink, it would be my demise. As my sweaty palms dig into the sandy shoreline, I find a piece of  what looks like coal; yet is a fair size of perforated, black lava rock. In an instant, my pulse begins to beat, and I struggle to breathe. For I know the legend- the impact of Pele’s Curse- how those who take a piece of the Hawaiian elements will suffer, until rock or sand is returned.

In my dream, which I soon realize is a nightmare, I drop the stone in my hand and frantically search a rucksack belonging to another. Tears are streaming and landing into my mouth- my tongue darts out-desperate for something quenching. I find myself ripping apart the mysterious backpack. 

Im my nightmare, I am frantic and know after having my daughter died; the enemy's invitation of wickedness into my life. Rummaging through the inside, something brushes across my fingers. Slowly, I pull out a clear bag, it is full of black sand and fragments of lava rock. Immediately, my free hand goes up to my mouth and as the screams escape; the beach suddenly gives away and I find myself falling…falling…falling into the unknown. Until my restlessness in bed, sees my body lunge forward. A cold sweat upon me, I open my eyes and look downcast onto my lower body, to where I carried my child…it is covered with thick layers of illicit, black sand.

It is then, I truly wake up, gasping for air and realize another night of anxiety and insomnia is upon me. 

***

Everyday, I, along with others, battle monsters. The ones that were far easier to extinguish, until COVID-19, flourished in our world. 

Last November, after I re-established myself, I expected the nightmares to stop. 

They didn't. 

 Releasing myself from the confines of my vehicle, into shelter that sees birds outside my sunlit window ( No, I do not live at a bird sanctuary), I thought by moving inside, it would shut out the monsters. However, when you already have two disorders, been fortunate to live through a stroke, an aneurysm, and an horrific assault, my body was layered with the scars that were proof of my battleground. One where night terrors, no sleep, and fatigue all intertwined each other; in a new mash-up of Hotel California.

Just as the reoccurring nightmare hounded me- I became aware that I needed to embrace the scripture that remains my salvation, and also the elements upon which God created.

As usual, my research had me delve into things like human connection, empathy, stress, foods, disease/trauma, and the realization of how much our bodies are impacted by all of these.

I could not have done embarked on a discovery of wellness, without the help of a good friend, who offered me via email, some wonderful places to start. My approach to what I learned, impacted me in such a profound manner, where the Gospel of peace, documentaries and research, has seen my reoccurring nightmares slowly begin to fade away. My resources were my Bible, two wonderful recipe/ health books, the use of imagery and space to re-focus, plus the following three documentaries: E-motion, The Human Experience and HEAL.

Before I proceed further, I am not making any claims that I am healed in anyway. I simply am open to understanding that what I have been doing is not working, in order to break the unhealthy cycle of what ails me. That instead of my wanting to move forward, quickly past it; ignoring the cause, I am willing to delve deep into understanding my symptoms on a broader level.

This comes after a breakdown that occurred and left me reeling in more pain.  That despite all of the medications I take….there was a glitch in the programme.

In spite of all of the spiraling, insomnia, anxiety and distress, I never did, nor have I ever stopped taking the pills that fill up my bister packs.

I wash them down with all of the prayers I’ve received and place myself in the hands of the ultimate healer in my life, Jesus.

While I do not understand the complexity of the process, I have been given a mind that is always seeking and striving, in wanting to see past everything.

There has been a shift; a desire to know more about what is below the bottom of my iceberg and the reactors that trigger things from my past- as if they are now going on in the present- ~ E-motion.

My disclosure is that I am a writer, who pens her life journey, in hopes that by my sharing scripture, that someone may want to discover the Bible (as I did many years ago). I hope that in my posts others can relate, and maybe feel at ease….not so alone. That you may find yourself laughing- the best medicine, in the pictures I share. My only intention is to relate with others, that in me poking fun at myself, is to relieve some of the burden of stress, I feel I go thru. 

That in sharing my two favourite cookbooks, one by Beverly Lynn Bennett and the other by Rick Gallop (who have done their proper studies), that you may find these recipes of healthy foods, benefit yourself. With tasty meal plans that can ease your gluten issues, your arthritis and pains, I have recommended them to many others.

As a Christian, I pray the elements made by Our Creator, can be used in such a way that promotes healing. In my preparation of foods and understanding the inter-connection between them, it helps to know I can reach for the fridge and healthy food, instead of taking another medication.

In my wanting to find balance, I am not searching for miracles…I simply want to put pen to paper and find solutions.

For if anything I have learned over the past seven months since my relocation; is that the mind can take us to places, in order to protect us.

I understand how last year, out of desperation, hospitalization and chaos, I spoke out to the news and was in no proper means, well- enough to do so.

It took me awhile to look back and see all of the helping hands upon me- the ones that meant me no harm and wanted to truly help.

If you don’t have a great support in family and friends, then it’s hell ~ The Human Experience.

Last summer, I recall when a fierce storm was upon us, in Victoria, BC.

I was in the Tim Horton’s and had bought one of the homeless a donut and a coffee. Over the months of my displacement, he had come to know my scars as I did his. As we sat across from another, I muttered how cold it was going to be. He looked at me, shook his head and without a second thought, he said,

“I will you what…why don’t we switch sleeping spaces tonight?”

The look on my face showed my inner emotions.

I looked downcast and replied, “I am so sorry! That was stupid of me to even say!

Patting my hand, he smiled and with a mouthful of donut, he mumbled…

“No worries. You know what, you are like a lost little sparrow, with broken wings. You don’t know where you belong or how to heal.”

Sipping my French vanilla coffee, I remained quiet, yet inside I knew he was right.

When we parted, I saw him double back to the dumpster and grab his ‘home’ for the night.

As the pounding rain belted down, I saw him carry a large piece of cardboard, underneath his arm.

Once back in my space- suddenly my car felt like I had been handed the keys to the Pent suite.

 Later, I found myself without sleep- where the truth of my friends words… kept me company, in the dark.

Recently, when I watched “The Human Experience,” from the warmth of my home -while the rain poured down outside... I felt the same mounding guilt that I did, that one night.

A few days ago, as I watched the award-winning documentary tackle the serious ramifications of those truly homeless, I understood the difference between displaced and in need.

I look at those moments. Everyone lives differently. When you go somewhere out of your own comfort zone, out of your own realm, and you enter someone else's, that's learning. If you treasure your own life, you should treasure other's lives. ~ The Human Experience.

During my time, back into society, I felt the entanglement of both health, body and mind begin to unravel in ways that I couldn’t understand. Why did I feel more at peace with people on the streets? Then I carried on with my search and found the words, my heart struggled to say:

A longing I’ve not felt before….to connect with people that treated me like family I’ve always yearned for.

It made sense then that coming out of an environment where those who were wounded, could not hurt me, I felt a sense of community~ a purpose and place to ‘fit in.’

It was not until I found shelter and moved away that I fell into a deep depression and belief that I was going to die. The doctors who treated the symptoms, did not look at the causes- they saw labels.

If my reoccurring nightmare was any indication, I was reliving the pain that I thought I had processed….yet forgot that the struggle is an important key to the emergence of healing.

Within these documentaries, I was witness to the image of a butterfly in a cocoon, struggling to emerge from the confines of mother nature. A person comes along with a pair of scissors and cuts the cocoon, so the butterfly can finally come out. However, when the butterfly does try and depart, it falls to the ground and simply dies. The emergence/struggle was all part of the process and had been taken away.

                                Even in the deepest suffering ~ there is significance-  Heal

Something else I discovered is that last year, turning another chapter of turbulence and my own struggles, in spite of it being hard for me to ask for help; the honesty is that I could not have survived without it. I grew depressed though believing that I had nothing to offer in return. One night, sitting at a park, by myself I looked up at the sliver of the moon and began to pray and offer gratitude. I prayed over those who had helped me. I gave prayers of thanks to those who had sent me gift cards for Tim Hortons, McDonalds and in turn I was able to share them with those in need. I prayed over a friend’s business that was struggling, along with their health. My hands clasped together, head bowed, I prayed over a recent reunion that was 10 years in the making; I offered prayers of forgiveness and release of the hurt caused on both of our parts, I prayed for those who had blessed me with giftings of funds and in the mail, cards of support. AS my hands clasped onto one another, I prayed for someone working from their home, for their struggles that were real and their own health suffering, I prayed over the friend who went to work everyday, placing themselves at risk of the virus, and also worry over their grandchild. I prayed for my friends overseas and not able to see their families, including their own grandbabies. I prayed for the family member that saw me through to shelter and food when I was about to give up. I prayed for those I was a caregiver for and for their daughter who gave her everything to provide for me, throughout the years. I prayed for the churches I had attended and those who treated me as a sister and brother in Christ. As my prayers carried on into the night, an hour had passed, and I was no longer cold or felt alone. It dawned on me that this was not the struggle…for I had been on the hearts and minds of many. It was my own mindset that was seeing me battle myself- not others. For carrying me throughout a time of hardship, were their prayers, thoughts and heartfelt wishes. 

It’s not what I gave them …it’s what each of them gave to me.

The past several months, living in isolation and due to my fears, I’ve become sicker. I have a stack of requisitions, notes and description of maladies I am suffering from. This was worsened by a visit to my hometown that has seen my health deteriorate. For my affliction stems from my mind poisoned by the past and things I cannot release, in order to heal. Scripture says repeatedly throughout the Bible about healing the mind and soul, through the process of letting go. For me, its as if my brain is much like a needle on a record, skipping. It is stuck and cannot carry onward.

The body wants to be healthy, but the head- its just like a racket you are running on yourself, and you need to let go of that. ~ Heal

This reminded me of the power of prayer…

How could my prayer, my meditation, my loving thoughts of gratitude and appreciation possibly impact the healing of another person, in a room with me or halfway around the world? The answer: 

We are All deeply connected 💕

As I watched the documentary, something a woman said was like the skipping record... was brought to a halt.

I’ve spent most of my life suffering from some form of illness; its all so familiar that it is actually scary for me to let go.

To be open and honest, I am sharing that my body being in a state of turmoil and distress, feels more at ease - with being broken. It is a place of familiarity, where the dulling pain has tricked me into thinking, it is a place of comfort. 

The family sets up boundaries that are very different from any other relationship in the world. Whether the family has been a place of security or insecurity for us, it is a place that we continually have to turn to, to know who we are and to in fact, try to figure out how to know these others. 

In watching E-motions, I am reminded at how I may think I have moved past all of my childhood fears and the monsters in my room; however my body has spent years internalizing them and holding onto the pain…causing me to have a biological clock- ticking with trapped stress- that is now carried over into my adulthood.

The need to get past the trauma has been with me for fifty years now. Often I let my mind wander and imagine a place where I can unpack all of my baggage; my wounds and the scars, in order to return to place of healing. Then I smile, as I know of such a place, but it is not part of our earthly world.

As I watched the last part of The Human Experience, I saw a group of young men, travel to a Leprosy/AIDS community, where people lived in exile in Peru.

It was here, at the conclusion of this documentary that I saw the thread of compassion, weaved into every story they had shared. As I watched them gently reach for and then take hold of the disfigured hands of man, women and child, I began to cry, then I saw them touch the face of a little girl with AIDS. It was this connection of human kindness that reminds me of the depths of another’s soul.

This is something I have learned and continue to learn, only after I understood the concept of "We" instead of me. 

“We must rapidly begin the shift from a “THING” – orientated society to a person- orientated society.” ~ Martin Luther King Jr.

 

By TL Alton

For The Love of My Sister

 

There is a saying when someone’s life has come to an end…A Celebration of Life where we gather to say all of the things we wished we had said, while the person was still alive.

Then there is the celebrating of a person’s existence.

Today is such a Celebration…one of my beloved sisters, who I entrust my every spoken word and heartfelt sentiment – my Best friend.

Throughout the years, she has been a quiet source of support; one where because of my sister, I have been able to thrive both in this world and in scripture.

In pouring over hundreds of pages of my Bible, I have often stumbled or misunderstood the scripture before me. It is then, my sister has provided guidance, loving support, and sharing of the written word.

Over the years, she has walked with me through the carnage of my life, my wounds that decided to re-open on their own…and remind me that within me, is an ever-growing light that shines thru the darkness.

My sister’s compassion for me is much like a lotus flower; always willing to open and share with me her beautiful heart. She has broken bread with me, nourished me, shared her spiritual gifts, and an abundance of generosity!

When I was displaced and curled up in a ball in my vehicle, my sister’s prayers covered me whole and I felt her comforting embrace, from afar. For while my suffering was not forgotten by her or many others; my sorrow was mirrored in the heart of my sister. 

My sister, is a keeper of what I've told her; she is someone I trust….with everything in my life.

In knowing all that I've shared, she would be the first to tell you that Christ does not want us to keep a list of our wrongs. Instead, to embrace forgiveness and let go of my anxieties… the ones that keep my knees on the floor.

For my sister knows the reasons behind the hurt and acknowledges my pain- both the emotional and physical, which yearn for healing. 

Over the years, I have been uplifted in the name of the Lord, by our close bond. My sister has Stood up for me time and time again, to help break the chains I feel shackle me.

“Tears shed for self are tears of weakness, but tears of love shed for others are a sign of strength.  And until I have learned the value of compassionately sharing other’s sorrow, distress, and misfortune, I cannot know real happiness.” ~From the Secret of Happiness by Billy Graham.

Today, when I awoke, it was to Celebrate my Sister.

Sitting before my Bible, I read the following, which is the most beautiful gift…

The Way of Love:  1 Corinthians 13

 If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.

 Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant  or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;  it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part,  but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways.  For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

 So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

Through my Sister, I have been truly accepted.

We have shed tears, exchanged cards of faith, and spoken words of hope together.

What I may see as reflections of brokenness, she sees someone worthy of love.

My sister has loved me... when the darkness surrounding me...seemed to shut out the light.

She has walked a mile in my shoes and still...she lets me share the pain...

Yet no matter what I divulge, she does not turn it into a weapon of control or destruction of me; for my sister prays only genuine love over me.

When I hear her voice on the telephone, I need to take a moment… to hold tight onto the kindness, she shares. For the other times of struggle - when I believe that I am all alone,  I am able to unpack from my heart….her constant friendship and who she is pointing too. 

Once I find myself so far away from the Son shine, I know it is my sister, who helps guide me along …back to where I am lit up by the light. When my busted heart needs her- there is never any bad intent . She meets me on the illuminated pathways, along the seaside, in the depths of the forest and every corner of my world, she has never left my side.

Her many gifts involve helping me, others and although she may not know it, my sister has been a teacher to those, who needed guidance.

This post is for my sister, the one true person who has great faith and love~ above all who is not happy with wicked thoughts, actions, and intent, but is simply happy with the truth.

By TL Alton 

* All scenery pictures, I was blessed to have captured- another outlet of his promises that I am not ashes, but the flame. 

The Spark Within Us

 The following Our Daily Bread, spoke to my heart, as I work on not simply surviving myself, but another day. As a Christian, I struggle to share with God what is happening both with health but also my life. In my most recent Counselling session, I discovered the following words that sum up things perfectly...so much that even my therapist agreed with the message:

Then I read something Our Daily Bread and the message about the stars and the light spoke to my heart. 

SHINING STARS By:  Jennifer Benson Schuldt   

Our Daily Bread 

I can close my eyes and go back in time to the house where I grew up. I remember stargazing with my father. We took turns squinting through his telescope, trying to focus on glowing dots that shimmered and winked. These pinpricks of light, born of heat and fire, stood out in sharp contrast to the smooth, ink-black sky.

Do you consider yourself to be a shining star? I’m not talking about reaching the heights of human achievement, but standing out against a dark background of brokenness and evil. The apostle Paul told the Philippian believers that God would shine in and through them as they held “firmly to the word of life” and avoided grumbling and arguing (Philippians 2:14–16).

Our unity with other believers and our faithfulness to God can set us apart from the world. The problem is that these things don’t come naturally. We constantly strive to overcome temptation so we can maintain a close relationship with God. We wrestle against selfishness to have harmony with our spiritual brothers and sisters.

But still, there’s hope. Alive in each believer, God’s Spirit empowers us to be self-controlled, kind, and faithful (Galatians 5:22–23). Just as we are called to live beyond our natural capacity, God’s supernatural help makes this possible (Philippians 2:13). If every believer became a “shining star” through the power of the Spirit, just imagine how the light of God would repel the darkness around us!

***

While I've never stargazed with my father, I have with another person, long ago. My daughter loved the stars and whenever we were camping' ~ especially in the United States, Shayla would point out the same moon and galaxy of stars, follows you and whoever else is looking up, both at the same time.  

This instilled in me, that no matter how dark things have become, there is the one HOPE burning brighter than ever. Jesus is the one who is my daily Sonshine, who sees me as a "shining star"... no matter how dim my light. The creator who through my tears and struggles, I can look up and be reminded God hears my every prayer and knows every struggle. 

As I lit my lantern tonight, the instant glow brought the warmth and comfort I needed. I know in turning to the one who holds the stars, I can still be even a little spark, which ignites the light within. 

By TL Alton 

You take the Love with YOU

Today as I sat on the manicured landscape of a mountainside, I thought about what my brother shared with me prior. He had listened to CBC Radio this morning and heard people speak of how today on all day’s that Mother’s whose children have died, are still Mothers- no matter what death had presented them with. I also thought of how things I shared with my late daughter Shayla, were deeply connected to my own mother. While their was melancholy, I did not have to fight back tears today, for Shayla left me with endless cherished memories. I was blessed to have found an old MP3 player with a mix of mine and my daughter’s songs on it. I knew exactly where I needed to go- just me, my sweet angel overlooking and the love of Jesus by my side. I found in my car a treasure- a photograph of myself as a young girl and a smaller picture of when my daughter was of similar age (right hand corner). I keep it gently tucked into my passenger visor- a reminder of many things. Like how despite both of us being bullied, we both managed to be blessed with the most unique and welcomed of friendships. Some of which, taught me a lot now about indifference and change.

Years later, after my only child has passed away, I was reminded of those I treasure and those who I share the value of forgiveness. To all of you who reached out to me, to a mother who misses her babygirl, I am grateful for the phone calls, emails, and texts simply to come alongside me to still honour the mother/ daughter bond we shared. I appreciated speaking with my brother over how our children never came with helpful manuals. Another mother/ friend repeated some sound advice:

You can beat yourself up for the parent you were- or you can be thankful for the opportunity to be one!

Later in the afternoon, as I prepared to leave, I was gifted with a beautiful bouquet of yellow roses.  A lovely sentiment, shared between two mothers.

Once at my destination, I brought out a photograph of Shayla, arms wide open, taken on one of our cherished visits to White Rock, BC.

Looking around, I saw mothers with their children, having a picnic or taking pictures together. My thoughts began to think about all those additional mothers who were missing their children. I paused to think of my best friend, whose daughter died and my brother’s son, whose mother was without him, not just today, but always. 

I made sure, on this day, to reach out and share some kind words from one mother’s grieving heart to another.

Abruptly, the wind picked up and a leaf rolled by, in front of me.

I took a deep breathe  and then exhaled.The impending change felt inside of me -that only God knows- is something I have felt before.

I understand  there is a sense of knowing that our children feel, when their mother’s are in pain. 

I know this, because of the day my daughter passed.

I was the one to feel, before anyone else was to even know- among family and friends- that Shayla had died. 

I imagined my daughter, as she reached for Jesus’s hand out of the frozen reservoir,  she glanced upwards and with her very last breathe, she said: 

Please God, let my momma know first I died and that I am going home to Heaven, to be with you.

This is where I have to stop and pause, as memories of that day from my past collide, with the present. I needed to take a deep breathe and remember who is in control.

Jesus knew, there on the slopes of a hill, on Mothers Day, I needed to refocus. 

It was then I took out the Mp3 player and started the music, which was like unfolding reflections of our lives. Some of the songs were mine and the other old school’s, belonged to Shayla. I decided three songs I heard in a row, were a perfect example, from the stories of Us. 💞

Instead of including the video links, I’ve decided to mash-up the lyrics into several sections. Just how it played out to me... in my way of thinking -between myself and my daughter- back and forth. I also imagined her dancing on the grassy hillside; in tune with the nature she loved to be surrounded with...

I'm not a stranger to the dark
Hide away, they say
'Cause we don't want your broken parts
I've learned to be ashamed of all my scars
Run away, they say
No one will love you as you are…
But I won't let them break me down to dust
I know that there's a place for us
For we are glorious! 

(The Greatest Showman Cast - This Is Me) 

There are days I've taken more than I can give
And there are choices that I made
That I wouldn't make again
I've had my share of laughter
Of tears and troubled times
This is has been the story of my life…

I have won
and I have lost
I got it right sometimes
But sometimes I did not
Life's been a journey
I've seen joy, I've seen regret…
Oh and You have been my God
Through all of it! 

(Colton Dixon - Through All of It)

Words can't express what you mean to me
Even though you're gone, we’re still a team
In the future, can't wait to see
If you open up the gates for me
Every single day, every time I pray
I'll be missing you…
Know you’re in heaven smilin' down…

(Puff Daddy feat. Faith Evans & 112- I'll Be Missing You)

Three in the morning,
And I'm still awake,
So I picked up a pen and a page,
And I started writing,
Just what I'd say,
If we were face to face,
I'd tell you just what you mean to me,
I'd tell you these simple truths,

Momma, Be strong in the Lord and
Never give up hope,
You're going to do great things,
I already know,
God's got His hand on you so,
Don't live life in fear,
Forgive and forget,
But don't forget why you're here,
Take your time and pray,
These are the words I would say,

Momma, Last time we spoke,
You said you were hurting,
And I felt your pain in my heart,
I want to tell you,
That I keep on praying,
Love will find you where you are!

(Sidewalk Prophets - The Words I Would Say)

 This mash-up is our special songs that we shared, or I added to my setlist, after my daughter had died. I know that my Mother’s Day night will include the one film that neither her nor I could get through to the end, without bawling – “GHOST.”

I recall one time,  after we had watched the movie, how Shayla turned with tears pooling in her baby blue eyes, she said to me…Momma, you take the love with you….💖

               Photograph I took in Hawaii, where I released my daughter's ashes

***

Indeed, you do babygirl…YES, YOU DO!

By TL Alton 

Spread LOVE~ For the Love of Mother's Everywhere!

In one week, I have managed to process alot- especially with my overthinking. What happened only a few weeks back has haunted me and yet in my prayers, my researching, having my lithium re-tested and speaking over the phone with a guidance counsellor, I now better understand the contradiction of writing to release; as opposed to writing, in order to heal.

My visit to the town I grew up in, began with something I chose to release- connected to my past. I may have disposed of it- yet I was unaware of the doors, I was going to open.

This post here is no longer about that. For I needed to take a whole day of introspection thinking to realize, I am  not the sole person on our earth, which is hurting, struggling, and fighting to survive.

This journey led me to the invisible doorsteps of another day that  I chose to invite others to share, those who were willing to let me speak of a day that not all sons and daughters are okay with- Mother’s Day. I began my phone conversations acknowledging that I failed as a mother- not to one, but three children. The truth is my stepchildren were really not mine to raise and my like Shayla, who was on lend to me, my futile efforts of filling in the role for someone else, was botched in ways I can never re-do, but I can acknowledge my lack of parenting skills, in a way that holds me accountable. I am free to come from behind that wall of mine and take an honest look of how a young, out of control girl at 21, foolishly thought I could become a mother to three, beautiful- but hurting children.

I may speak in different languages of people or even angels. But if I do not love , I am only a noisy bell or a crashing cymbal.  1 Corinthians 13:1

Recently, I watched the Netflix series “Little Fires Everywhere” based on the best-selling novel by Celeste Ng. Two episodes in and I was gripped with anguish- knowing I was the main mother character Elena Richardson. As far as a parent goes, I had convinced myself that I had not turned into my own mother- harboring deception and heartache. While my life had never been fueled by the bottle- my biggest secret was that I had lied for many years- touting myself as a good mother. Of course I loved and cared for the trio of children I was entrusted to raise; I made perfect homemade Christmas cards and lunches that carried PB & jelly cut out heart sandwiches. I showed up for soccer practices/games and stood with other mother’s cheering them all on. The reality is…I was not showing up for myself. All the fractured pieces of me were barely holding on and then, the biggest revelation, was I lived a lie where I denied myself the wellness and love that I needed so urgently. My disorder was only discovered after I had left my marriage- after all of the walls had come burning down- by then it was too late to repair.  I went through years of coming to terms; being blessed with receiving Christian Counselling, in order to understand the distorted love I knew growing up- had been passed onto three vulnerable souls.

Lyrics for "The Proof of Your Love": If I sing but don't have love I waste my breath with every song I bring an empty voice, a hollow noise. If I speak with a silver tongue, convince a crowd, but don't have love I leave a bitter taste with every word I say. So let my life be the proof, the proof of Your love, let my love look like You and what You're made of How You lived, how You died-Love is sacrifice, So let my life be the proof The proof of Your love. ~ For King & Country

The Little Fires Everywhere series shook me up to the core and reminds me why I don’t like secrets- why I display my worst moments, in hopes some other parent/person will seek help- and not leave as a legacy- the remnants of an abusive past.

While my own daughter and I shared an incredible bond, I know I did not have the strength and wisdom to be raising another two, whose mother, was on her own healing journey.

In the support group I spent 8 months in, I needed to process each relationship of mine, the ones I had that were mixed with tears and rain, yet also love.

Listening to this song, I am reminded that I did show up and remained for ten years- through all of the chaos- not only mine. I also thought of my mom and the distorted relationship we have with one another. While I am all about sharing my many secrets- my mom, whose secrets are so embedded in the past…I know I will never come to know or even hear them.

Pictures of You (From "Little Fires Everywhere") · Lauren Ruth Ward https://youtu.be/1mA7EfH6cpc

I also received an eye- opening email from a dear friend. One who had read my last post and offered with her gentle words, scripture to remind me of things I had forgotten.

I am sharing a few highlights that were placed upon my heart.

Something my dear friend shared with me that was profound and true:

The enemy will still try to oppress you and deceive you, but he cannot reverse your salvation, which Jesus made a done deal. That is the incredible hope we have in Him! Romans 8 speaks of this amazing truth, but I'll specifically share one of my favourite passages in this chapter, which is:

 Romans 8:38-39: For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, [39] Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

She then sent me a link to a helpful article dealing with the sensitive nature of suicide.

 Dr. Roger Barrier on crosswalk.com speaks of his own challenges and personal response:

I've struggled with depression throughout my life. Thank God for anti-depressants. Anti-depressants don't put rose-colored glasses on before our eyes. Anti-depressants just take off the dark ones.

When I don't feel like He is treating me well, I try to remember that the Bible never says that God will solve all of our problems. What he promises, is to give us the grace and power to live victoriously through our problems.

The other night, I watched a Christian film that I had seen before, but this time I had a fresh set of eyes. It was God’s Not Dead 3, and the following passages settled with me:

If being a Christian doesn’t affect the way we act, how do we actually know our values and beliefs are more valid than others? We as believers, have to experience doubts, as uncertainty leads to the truth. That is, the truth grapples with difficult questions.

How painful it is to be in a fire of hurt and uncertainty; where God has chosen for me to be. You gotta work through the pain- we cannot respond to Hate with more hate.

At this point, I paused the film and got down on my knees to pray. I remained there for a good ½ hour, pouring out my requests – not for me- but for other peoples heartache. I cried over my selfishness over how I have been reflecting on myself- when my dearest friends needed intercession of prayers on them. I also cried out the word: STOP! Asking God to rid me of my self-doubts, my anxiety and misuse of my words, He has given unto me.

Continuing on, I listened intently as the main characters had the following exchanges:

Reverand Dave: It’s okay to be broken…as it means God’s not done shaping you.

The character goes onto say, he wishes he could go back… at this point I’m wringing my hands together.

Her (Meg's) response was so poignant that I made sure to include it here:

I’ve gone back to school, I’ve gone back home, and I’ve even gone back to brunette, but I’ve Never been able to go back to the way things were….. so just how far back is that you’d return? Because going back, never really works.

There it was- summed up perfectly- in my opinion. You can’t go back- only forward.

Really, its far important to own your past and not let it sabotage you.

I have to learn to untether my past from the present, for I have made apologies to those I have hurt, and this includes a deep apology for the shame that came about due to a recent trip – to someone who I will always love as my best friend.

The other person I need to make amends with, is the woman who gave me life.

While I fall short with my own mother with labels that only binds us in our hurt, I realized that smiting my own flesh and blood is to bring shame to my scars. Instead, I needed to understand the love and light that does not separate me from my Heavenly Father, is the very same that shines upon what my mother and I do share in what we do have together.

In all that is a part of my path as a Christian, I could see that everything I’ve tried to put a wedge in between, did not stop Jesus from loving me….for He breaks all strongholds over me.

I was delivered in victory by the wounds of the one- Christ whose own scars remind me to be thankful.

( Spoiler Alert)!

Sitting in my darkened room, I watched the conclusion of “Little Fires Everywhere.”  The character Mia shares through tears to her daughter Pearl about a fire she once witnessed:

“Sometimes, just when you think everything’s gone, you find a way…

After a prairie fire, there is scorched earth. It felt like the end of the world, but then I had you. When you were brought into this world, sometimes you have to scorch everything to start over. After the burning; the soil is rich and new life can grown there. People are like that too; they are resilient and start over…

This reminds me of my own babygirl and the 21 Mother’s Days we spent together. Since her passing, I have spent 10 years- without her, but I’m not alone. In going through her belongings and after her death, I have found token of golden moments that still shine of her. Rolled notes I took from my jar of grief, before I gifted it to a friend- who is another amazing mother.

I also found a connection to those who are homeless- separate from my own journey of being displaced twice. These mementoes that I once cherished so dearly... until it was time to let go.

This also pertains to spreading love out into our world…in my writing, once I edit and post- I go back and sometimes, despite how hard it is to free my pain out to the world, I know I have to let it be as its all a process of healing. Other times, I realize the message of my faith is muddled and I will revise- try not to remove, in order to chip away at the darkness, so as to reveal the light.

Video: (Let Me Tell You about) My Jesus https://youtu.be/FW5o2uBeMWQ Anne Wilson

On the foundation that is the purpose of this blog post, I dedicate to the following:

To the mother’s who are not perfect, those who battle disorders, disease, and addictions. To those who are keepers of their darkest secrets. For those who struggle with infertility and to those who are struggling to raise another woman’s child(ren). This post is for the mothers who are homeless, raising their children within the confines of a vehicle or another shelter. To the many women who find themselves unwillingly pregnant, from the most sordid of situations. Their is the ripple effect. For when you hurt a mother in the present, you affect the future of her generations. 

I also dedicate this post to the Mothers of those Missing and Murdered Indigenous young women and men, whose mothers aching hearts, long to hold their sons and daughters again. 

To all of you whose child(ren) have died, who hold onto the cherished memories of their sons and daughters- who will never be forgotten. For those mothers- who due to Immigration issues- are separated from their child(ren), my words are for you and your immeasurable hardships. To those who made the decisions not to become mothers but have a mother of their own. For those children who have no mothers to celebrate, for they have passed away, they will always be remembered. I Dedicate this post to those who are pregnant, carrying the beautiful life that was created between two souls out of pure love. This tribute is for those separated by the pandemic and cannot see their mothers and to those who have been blessed with one or many children, whose bonds are strong! To any one I missed unintentionally, I dedicate my words to you and honour the form of motherhood, you find yourself in.

From these depths, I rise with you…to stand beside you and ask for every chain to be unlocked…to say a prayer, over every fragile piece of you, which is connected to LOVE & LIFE!

     My late daughter Shayla, pondering her thoughts 💖

Happiest of Mother’s Day!

 

By TL Alton