tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79283201097951112922024-02-19T06:51:56.932-08:00Wildflower & RootWalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-36549928870034651422022-08-09T14:32:00.013-07:002022-08-11T09:48:41.268-07:00Rose Coloured Glasses <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVQKCCSGj_xgOOYj3t1LK7lFfiX1Y-5pWqaQXm2notieYpBAWqQs0Mo91JHUhNTegE4SnBhyjjIkUPtavsl_pd6Zeg9Zz3uLXV5AwTRRLqK2_pt0OsppetLMECEisZPPscJnAkxnSbvxtOMOrXIvKeVR8Nv53NLYyfRfAKYN0fZbZ5CXP4OQa33aBcQ/s4032/20220729_190007.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVQKCCSGj_xgOOYj3t1LK7lFfiX1Y-5pWqaQXm2notieYpBAWqQs0Mo91JHUhNTegE4SnBhyjjIkUPtavsl_pd6Zeg9Zz3uLXV5AwTRRLqK2_pt0OsppetLMECEisZPPscJnAkxnSbvxtOMOrXIvKeVR8Nv53NLYyfRfAKYN0fZbZ5CXP4OQa33aBcQ/w300-h400/20220729_190007.jpg" width="300" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 17px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">"The arc of creativity, is one that can be lit up at any moment in time, so much as to make an individual stop in an instant, grab anything to write, paint and compose- in order to retain its brilliance.</span></div></span></div></div><p></p>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">That is how the spark of creativity happens...it does not wait for an invitation to appear, nor does it let you rest...unless you let it breathe...by releasing it into our world." ~ TL Alton </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Throughout my life, I have taken and also taught, several impacting courses that changed the course of my journey.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">One such workshop I found myself a participant of, was on fear and trauma. </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">The corresponding link to each other, has been carefully dissected by Gabor Mate.</span><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">In my previous posts, I have referenced him often, as Gabor's research has shown the direct connection between stress and it's ill effects on our bodies.</span><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQOfhhtN3Y3Deuv2gS5_FUoYiWl93fJJeDd6Ovu7BDLsI5v_vqwxbOmPfie33loaKkzyLAp2Ypv2EMwRFYJxg5df8AknZELSwgAEL0koivE4cncBGE917ycwBlSzaNDw3bhIR-V8YCMKSkQFfc9E3Y_SoPaiulWDaQk8PjfNb_p9e_wJT3H5lk7_Y-yQ/s2400/Screenshot_20220809-140737_Gallery.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQOfhhtN3Y3Deuv2gS5_FUoYiWl93fJJeDd6Ovu7BDLsI5v_vqwxbOmPfie33loaKkzyLAp2Ypv2EMwRFYJxg5df8AknZELSwgAEL0koivE4cncBGE917ycwBlSzaNDw3bhIR-V8YCMKSkQFfc9E3Y_SoPaiulWDaQk8PjfNb_p9e_wJT3H5lk7_Y-yQ/w180-h400/Screenshot_20220809-140737_Gallery.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 17px; text-align: left;">In this workshop, I learned about always wearing 'rose-coloured glasses,' when we first meet someone, begin a new friendship, start a job or find ourselves in unfamiliar surroundings.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 17px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">In viewing life through these tinted lenses, we embrace optismism; giving us a chance to be positive about something or someone.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">This outlook, places everyone or aspect of daily living, on the same leveled playing field - as everthing else and opens us up to connecting with others, in a positive way. </span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-7Gyul9ueiksJL-4Y4Av3KFL18wcajwscF6NUWYDNdchrjpSeg33n3zvUrmEmKuoQ4ckHr5s2kUXOmfuHiBitxRy2MdHcc8zkUvwtmWJKusm-CDZu24l5fsufB0-1cMcMruHeFcbx_yU2ba1OS4Xk-6X1paySPGbr-gqZneGwqtYv4XS4-Yxu-qeBjQ/s727/46ec8f5697b94337fd5e96776ff84577.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="695" data-original-width="727" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-7Gyul9ueiksJL-4Y4Av3KFL18wcajwscF6NUWYDNdchrjpSeg33n3zvUrmEmKuoQ4ckHr5s2kUXOmfuHiBitxRy2MdHcc8zkUvwtmWJKusm-CDZu24l5fsufB0-1cMcMruHeFcbx_yU2ba1OS4Xk-6X1paySPGbr-gqZneGwqtYv4XS4-Yxu-qeBjQ/s320/46ec8f5697b94337fd5e96776ff84577.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Therefore, each new individual I meet or encounter I have, is covered with pink hues of gratitude- until I remove them and the more realistic notions of who a person is or what the life experiences I have been immersed in- are exposed for what they truly are- good or bad- I do not pass judgements when first introduced. This allows me to see people as they should be viewed ~ without the mistake of 'judging a book, by its cover.'</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">As a mother, I passed onto my beloved daughter Shayla Rae Dawn, the same ideals and understanding of how powerful- yet misconstrued perceptions can be, when not wearing and viewing life, through the rose coloured glasses. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;">I raised Shayla to understand how key it is, to allow others to be who they are, as long as that does not negatively affect one another. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;">This defined her outlook on those hurting and in need; in addition to carving out the path of wanting to help others, her pursuit of becoming a social worker allowed her to be the accepting, loving, free spirit she was. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhLjIEHYYnSfNoP1SSz8WrceRARPtqlgXEqP0DjLNPxDMwpAWV4D2mU41UqWk6Ocdq5VX_zjdRRBhUoTax7UXgQs7PuOijhRlQNrE0quxNIywQxiipkEArigKyywLmszPcowHWEEDEKn-PTLQqPZfeHTEIAd_97fy3t6NPPbY3KQ5Y46Lsz9cMssmMA/s564/06c7f761a79f3c9bf572e6b88a7f876b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="472" data-original-width="564" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhLjIEHYYnSfNoP1SSz8WrceRARPtqlgXEqP0DjLNPxDMwpAWV4D2mU41UqWk6Ocdq5VX_zjdRRBhUoTax7UXgQs7PuOijhRlQNrE0quxNIywQxiipkEArigKyywLmszPcowHWEEDEKn-PTLQqPZfeHTEIAd_97fy3t6NPPbY3KQ5Y46Lsz9cMssmMA/s320/06c7f761a79f3c9bf572e6b88a7f876b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I've worn my own rise coloured glasses, in meeting new individuals, sharing in friendships, being introduced to co-workers, bosses and various work and living environments, along with relationships, in general.</span></div></span></div><div><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Removal of them, often reveals a stark contrast where indeed as my Publisher, Leon Oldale, would share...</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;">"perception is everything!"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">I wholeheartedly agree!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH24gzBbLPHlRi2c6WVWHmsTPR8YeXuQ9aemOUoVTreGsEPGZNC42YhwTHJ-gk0bKOrRUJxq2IOROOEW-wJ-vxy1idZBjsMS6xNSZh5AVG8Bx0EMQ1ftbFPBw0Fjllog9a71ed0vWN9ZFo9D2M4szX0rauwj3u9k2u4zD5tvFNy7RPiLS28cyVVuUuOw/s945/8e56c78b1d6caf9e31c5d8c053024fe4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="709" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH24gzBbLPHlRi2c6WVWHmsTPR8YeXuQ9aemOUoVTreGsEPGZNC42YhwTHJ-gk0bKOrRUJxq2IOROOEW-wJ-vxy1idZBjsMS6xNSZh5AVG8Bx0EMQ1ftbFPBw0Fjllog9a71ed0vWN9ZFo9D2M4szX0rauwj3u9k2u4zD5tvFNy7RPiLS28cyVVuUuOw/s320/8e56c78b1d6caf9e31c5d8c053024fe4.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">A good example of stress on the body, is when every night I retreated to my small living space, in the floathouse I shared with others- the stress of my daily unhealthy situation, saw me clench and grind my teeth so badly that I would awaken -like clockwork- at 5am, to sore, aching gums and sensitive teeth.</span></div></span></div><div><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Yet, I also arrived at work, wearing my rose coloured glasses, so as to offer a perception of daily joy, to those I happily served.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_du4ETzFaeIrmExBWC4v5YvuBMqGsGGE_8jRFJT0gYSP1IE6m_SiL7eC02PWQDliJtLADGNVmzfZs7354w6mfIJUhzw_xthm45KrQbB-aRdUuvZCivX63vIIhBVcWkKDvy3PGwTLO_rrd3RXzgmMzPdTJlQ50pEijfxdIUimHYGnNEZRnIfY8vdvGg/s448/f235d68fadca4f70d36e911dbc6c2d6f.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="448" data-original-width="328" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_du4ETzFaeIrmExBWC4v5YvuBMqGsGGE_8jRFJT0gYSP1IE6m_SiL7eC02PWQDliJtLADGNVmzfZs7354w6mfIJUhzw_xthm45KrQbB-aRdUuvZCivX63vIIhBVcWkKDvy3PGwTLO_rrd3RXzgmMzPdTJlQ50pEijfxdIUimHYGnNEZRnIfY8vdvGg/w293-h400/f235d68fadca4f70d36e911dbc6c2d6f.jpg" width="293" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">When my daughter tragically passed away, I felt Shayla remove her set of glasses and hand back to me in their place, a golden torch of compassion. One that burned so bright, it was a beacon of hope that helped me carry on, even in the most toxic of situations. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuA99gz7S6WVDNADHF6sFFZgIQLXTeUxlaif8XzKLBgSQXv5rjHYk9pypUi06LTnDQsjaIBDTbeqIon4mUJAyHDDNUd7ZYN5OYpCjq5e4YChn9HvCfsVSk66iVm6Q6kklwuf95ukgnZDmeArNazM3r-ke_HZJyjNCl_tP8ruD8fiKtP8xaIvqq85kr9g/s800/God's%20children.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="800" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuA99gz7S6WVDNADHF6sFFZgIQLXTeUxlaif8XzKLBgSQXv5rjHYk9pypUi06LTnDQsjaIBDTbeqIon4mUJAyHDDNUd7ZYN5OYpCjq5e4YChn9HvCfsVSk66iVm6Q6kklwuf95ukgnZDmeArNazM3r-ke_HZJyjNCl_tP8ruD8fiKtP8xaIvqq85kr9g/s320/God's%20children.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sweet Angel, Shayla Rae Dawn and her fierce Momma bear, Tonya 💖🦋💖</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFoO-EswFFxHC-zBvHwIXSQpvNsnYl6UC60Wk8B_UZ9FWRjAhWlk-USFnTxwbOiLmH7SRXKuH3SXcbTDxel6u2-Ka8JeTiX_kvat4JLezvJBfIqcjM8fh-f0AGfv3eZgEfLeZxt_Topl_x09Ot3DES09kVLXtSrxNuSqXKCEPyr97C1v2XQGkW_3MyTQ/s1073/Screenshot_20220809-110939_Google~2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="823" data-original-width="1073" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFoO-EswFFxHC-zBvHwIXSQpvNsnYl6UC60Wk8B_UZ9FWRjAhWlk-USFnTxwbOiLmH7SRXKuH3SXcbTDxel6u2-Ka8JeTiX_kvat4JLezvJBfIqcjM8fh-f0AGfv3eZgEfLeZxt_Topl_x09Ot3DES09kVLXtSrxNuSqXKCEPyr97C1v2XQGkW_3MyTQ/w400-h306/Screenshot_20220809-110939_Google~2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Fight on Fighter"~ For King & COUNTRY<br /><br /><br /> </td></tr></tbody></table></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><span>Even with my current circumstances, of sprawling beauty, solitude and a safe, healing environment; I know this is my 'temporary home', a place of transition~ before the next chapter unfolds and reveals itself. </span><span>There are no expectations...</span></span><span style="font-size: 17px;">
</span><span style="font-size: 17px;">As boundaries between landlord and tenant, have been firmly established. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><span><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgolgdTL7MX2l2x6yeSLJzToOEojP2LCkcXEMjup5IMIQ82cWs7gQajEC5Lrn2f_r8ZfN-u617Qxlqv_zSDjYatjnWbmo22WsNdV9-i9VAutl299gPX01B7sDbusZ-v_0ZyqZPetkuO9-yVQlzy_egnwS93ioWub6E9CBGKNbAoNYwPhuUamlAfstJh5g/s856/c0c2c8255a660b1255f471e17e1c11a3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="856" data-original-width="430" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgolgdTL7MX2l2x6yeSLJzToOEojP2LCkcXEMjup5IMIQ82cWs7gQajEC5Lrn2f_r8ZfN-u617Qxlqv_zSDjYatjnWbmo22WsNdV9-i9VAutl299gPX01B7sDbusZ-v_0ZyqZPetkuO9-yVQlzy_egnwS93ioWub6E9CBGKNbAoNYwPhuUamlAfstJh5g/w201-h400/c0c2c8255a660b1255f471e17e1c11a3.jpg" width="201" /></a></div><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><span>Often with my writing, I never really plan my next post on my blog...rather letting the words inside of me, begin with their stirrings...until I find myself overcome with all of their sentiments, needing to pour out and be shared.</span></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;">Ironically, I am writing this last post, prior to my next TEE Procedure for my heart- prior to me going to Vancouver General Hospital- to actually have it done.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;">I will let you, the reader, figure out the significance of that. </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Due to me having this specific procedure before ( a whole year has already passed since having the first one done), I know what to expect.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">As a result, I will put on my rose coloured glasses, one last time and let the powers that be...guide me through it 🙏🏻💖🦋✨️</span></div><div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiigVjxAueVDSzZCVP-WwI3UjJ-sjkEcGrBRawmof28Wip24c-5fpVt93mF4AxrKGsNWOqYngyeEWcwK8pPDmz9FmqhH3_kSnoIiC8c8WZUgz6JdTKdyVlpmBWn9iYCydvaz82XwGZcN0u7NkED9cssH6tONJ8yEpOGYlz5jWefCAZyML3uIi0JdY_XVw/s736/9dfc94dcf8a18e45144e654b687fe046.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiigVjxAueVDSzZCVP-WwI3UjJ-sjkEcGrBRawmof28Wip24c-5fpVt93mF4AxrKGsNWOqYngyeEWcwK8pPDmz9FmqhH3_kSnoIiC8c8WZUgz6JdTKdyVlpmBWn9iYCydvaz82XwGZcN0u7NkED9cssH6tONJ8yEpOGYlz5jWefCAZyML3uIi0JdY_XVw/s320/9dfc94dcf8a18e45144e654b687fe046.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>*I dedicate this post to those targeted, to those shot and whose lives were abruplty taken in</div><div> Langley, British Columbia~ for those the most vulnerable...there remains no justice. 💔💦💔</div><div><br /></div><div>VIDEO LINK: "Flying Without Wings" ~ Westlife</div><div><a href="https://youtu.be/vKPGxGCFgTs">https://youtu.be/vKPGxGCFgTs</a><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">By TL Alton </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-19594587276928163402022-08-07T11:01:00.011-07:002022-08-10T22:07:17.274-07:00Lost Luggage <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpGn-l-3JC97aCi8xHURS-N-TtVwepOvm18gr5BzAjkbVTS3KeXho8pqtB2BFEVN3r9YLM7YBQKsikDOSMxljndTxkL-0BBvrevUIwoBrJQOrrYMRMYm4VFhT4KYXOVQkmj_nZUkKuafwtKCNpnWuRNg6rroS4uv75qSxkNuWBtGWO9VxWlCHprRIRMw/s598/cdd4f4e064b6733aae161965bbf55643.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="598" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpGn-l-3JC97aCi8xHURS-N-TtVwepOvm18gr5BzAjkbVTS3KeXho8pqtB2BFEVN3r9YLM7YBQKsikDOSMxljndTxkL-0BBvrevUIwoBrJQOrrYMRMYm4VFhT4KYXOVQkmj_nZUkKuafwtKCNpnWuRNg6rroS4uv75qSxkNuWBtGWO9VxWlCHprRIRMw/s320/cdd4f4e064b6733aae161965bbf55643.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> Years ago, I remember friends of mine, who had spent a whole year planning a trip to a secluded Caribbean Island resort. <p></p><p>They spent hours pouring over the customs and cultural of the Caribbean people, their food, the activities offered and the paradise they would be immersed in. </p><p>When the time came for their departure, my friends, whose expectations were very high, boarded a plane and flew off into their next adventure.</p><p>What they had not counted on was their luggage, packed with everything they would need for their travels, did not make it onto the plane with them. In an airline mix-up, their luggage had been mistakenly put on a flight to Colorado. </p><p>Upon their return from their Island Paradise vacation, I remember sitting down with them in a cafe where the roasted, blended and filtered coffee layered the air,with a beautiful, aromatic, lingering. </p><p>I expected to hear of their many explorations, see endless photographs of their precious time away and hear captivating stories about the Caribbean culture, they spent two weeks, being a part of.</p><p>Having lived on a tight budget and saved up enough for their idealic trip, I was eager to hear of their life experiences, while in the Caribbean- the golden sands clinging to their sandle- free toes and of the exotic meals, they were blessed to eat. </p><p>Unfortunately, what I heard about for the next hour was all about their lost luggage. </p><p>Forget the tropical paradise they had been so fortunate to be a part of...they were consumed with sheer anger and frustration over their paradise being ruined, because she didn't have the itsy bitsy bikini with her- the one she had nearly starved herself a year for- and he didn't have his silk shirts that were folded and tightly packed like a layer of crisps.</p><p>They complained about the airlines mix-up, how they still hadn't been compensated, for their 'nightmare vacation' - as they referred to it! </p><p>Despite me asking questions such as how was the food, the resort and the Caribbean culture you both were treated to? My dear friends were focused on the negative so much so- that it swallowed the pristine beauty and paradise, they had spent time immersed in.</p><p>I have never forgotten this and it has proved to be a valuable life lesson.</p><p>Therefore, in sharing my thoughts on my time spent in Desolation Sound, I prayed over the words I would compose and share about my time there. </p><p>Instead of dwelling on the negative, unforseen circumstances I found myself in, I am choosing to write about the one day of pure joy, happiness and peace, I found myself surrounded by.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0MJAn66siAVGizhZSRBj_4TY30PEpdKmPD5RtAmY8B6wEi1Kt9oEc53A5pU8-dOhzcx-3GRPiaiLMsKpaKkmr_QqWZGYhG_l7-KXCgGAijXPl3emn-Ycj6pDyab-AJoOy3bNBpzpqrPocOuyZSyULKIY2kOVnXDsGUSpV_0h1NJDhHhyR2j0zXWB4w/s300/ce95c3f360776b5481e3c9b360f6c57f.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig0MJAn66siAVGizhZSRBj_4TY30PEpdKmPD5RtAmY8B6wEi1Kt9oEc53A5pU8-dOhzcx-3GRPiaiLMsKpaKkmr_QqWZGYhG_l7-KXCgGAijXPl3emn-Ycj6pDyab-AJoOy3bNBpzpqrPocOuyZSyULKIY2kOVnXDsGUSpV_0h1NJDhHhyR2j0zXWB4w/s1600/ce95c3f360776b5481e3c9b360f6c57f.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p>While working, I discovered CBC broadcaster Grant Lawrence would be reading from his best selling stories from his books, "Adventures in Solitude" and "Return to Solitude," interwoven with his highly-rated podcasts and infused with his beautiful wife, Jill Barbers vocals. Included in this special event, was Ashleigh Ball's singing, that filled the foundation of where we the audience, were privileged to be a part of. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSaKvGR0akylVMUmrWshFUdnojM2ScTeHv9CHUetWW-5f-txiOO4AbTSHWU_JjzS5yvOc5WXr-WuNuGn0mAcdETCCxhvGEnDynPowXubKxpOvol7qAkDfivc7SQQjFBlxbkoZXfoVegRD-dGjme_ihmsctrfeqmbAnrT79t3yiXAQDnY_ne1sjejQig/s2429/20220730_141804.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2429" data-original-width="1130" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSaKvGR0akylVMUmrWshFUdnojM2ScTeHv9CHUetWW-5f-txiOO4AbTSHWU_JjzS5yvOc5WXr-WuNuGn0mAcdETCCxhvGEnDynPowXubKxpOvol7qAkDfivc7SQQjFBlxbkoZXfoVegRD-dGjme_ihmsctrfeqmbAnrT79t3yiXAQDnY_ne1sjejQig/s320/20220730_141804.jpg" width="149" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosYcJC1dYojQU6z4M5UkjoDFJKy1dxa2J_btoagIj2PHADWRLPt-WEzp82p3Suohazh_TFuKS9lrlaiMUY7XhCg0zAjzGzo5CCJiWYQbBxaajbM79rPuUnhQmTFSn-AY53BA-irV4yCrfxjR_H7UztZ_bMe86JzLKXktiqznuBO2KZ68K3bdoPoI-rg/s4032/20220730_155130.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosYcJC1dYojQU6z4M5UkjoDFJKy1dxa2J_btoagIj2PHADWRLPt-WEzp82p3Suohazh_TFuKS9lrlaiMUY7XhCg0zAjzGzo5CCJiWYQbBxaajbM79rPuUnhQmTFSn-AY53BA-irV4yCrfxjR_H7UztZ_bMe86JzLKXktiqznuBO2KZ68K3bdoPoI-rg/s320/20220730_155130.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was blessed by the personal signing Grant wrote for me~ in his book I purchased, 'Adventures in Solitude.'</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">In between laughter and song, Grant- whose birthday was that very day, entertained us, while both Jill and Ashleigh lulled us into a soothing state, with their phenomenal voices, which carried over into the sea. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOJIUwAS_4HmU5VLUImMTvdndptf5DcEf6X2TshqZ6fj0ljmDL0WWJHgLFO1KNCnekRUMmhHdLanwZUK3gsFnunaYE3yX7ZoZQkpaBcDtcghwjOHT4za0Nv7sIWT8rYPlxTK3Tc6uqa9aJryJcH9gN7qeHO8hMqHUXNkPZfx6t34Rq4XT7V66n9UgHQ/s4032/20220730_134847.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOJIUwAS_4HmU5VLUImMTvdndptf5DcEf6X2TshqZ6fj0ljmDL0WWJHgLFO1KNCnekRUMmhHdLanwZUK3gsFnunaYE3yX7ZoZQkpaBcDtcghwjOHT4za0Nv7sIWT8rYPlxTK3Tc6uqa9aJryJcH9gN7qeHO8hMqHUXNkPZfx6t34Rq4XT7V66n9UgHQ/s320/20220730_134847.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>I imagined the outpouring of creativity colliding with the pounding surf, and being tussled among the waves, holding onto the harmonies. </p><p>Refuge Cove Gallery had brought Grant's "Stories and Songs," to a place where I had sought healing from my own prior health and life experiences. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr8nrMSfy4hGK_I40yT0fE8R3Y05ACZJFagLTROBqmVrUrNXDtAMjnuyWqvnjyHtuteq5cap47vTsba_YjKWP6BQN2DeNuvyUQlmzI1vKztKVuocMNaNkimY4KoYz6EEYWG92julvB4FOXsTmikFMPX5SBFE85j0T5qnQASJWsXlJW9IHExtUDRoQ20g/s4032/20220730_153018.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr8nrMSfy4hGK_I40yT0fE8R3Y05ACZJFagLTROBqmVrUrNXDtAMjnuyWqvnjyHtuteq5cap47vTsba_YjKWP6BQN2DeNuvyUQlmzI1vKztKVuocMNaNkimY4KoYz6EEYWG92julvB4FOXsTmikFMPX5SBFE85j0T5qnQASJWsXlJW9IHExtUDRoQ20g/w300-h400/20220730_153018.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt and Christine, proprietors of "Refuge Cove Gallery" who put on the outstanding event of Grant Lawrence and Friends.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>This place I had come to work and explore was for the same reasons others chose it...as a place of solitude and refuge.</p><p>Only months before, I found myself in the complete opposite situation- one of fearing for my life! </p><p>I had an open Police File, on a man who drugged me daily, scammed me of hundreds of dollars and assaulted me nightly- for a two week period, before I gathered enough strength to escape and contact the local authorities!</p><p>Inspite of my scars on my heart, and the battles I have overcome, I greeted every single customer I served -working in the general store- with exceptional service and a smile. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwRFObLbNJCXf0GR2ZDksIdKBqtMs8YtBg9c21HYX_Cu8OHXEUVuaXhPVdbDDCDLUkaNDwXcdBeNQJY8ZYeLC1Hb0NSES7ZIS4DODbE0YIHek4-IAEEqylA3DWPYdyK6FoFzWR3h6hiaD0uGbfShqzn_QcXQtCZLR6Ye7494Hwx7q1yXb3Ov8SwD486Q/s520/a02995635cff6238c86ef942e108ef89.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="434" data-original-width="520" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwRFObLbNJCXf0GR2ZDksIdKBqtMs8YtBg9c21HYX_Cu8OHXEUVuaXhPVdbDDCDLUkaNDwXcdBeNQJY8ZYeLC1Hb0NSES7ZIS4DODbE0YIHek4-IAEEqylA3DWPYdyK6FoFzWR3h6hiaD0uGbfShqzn_QcXQtCZLR6Ye7494Hwx7q1yXb3Ov8SwD486Q/s320/a02995635cff6238c86ef942e108ef89.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>I also found my 'wounds' cleansed by the deep sea and a connection to my late daughter, Shayla, here. Being born in February, she was a 'fish in water' and savored the ocean, and delighted in swimming, in Okanagan Lake. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbeF1ftYpz3_eXUxWXECh2sZlkqmHRS749BKKMxrx-mlKLRofbT3EkQfD5ycArub2W_Jodgbs81AKCOmjXTCnjHJpp8ZFgHjlv_QFvOExkhIXYnQDXaY3Tb5YeEcpr--2xhBrR9qRwB7aL1XGxaZXN3YTZN92W7lFIGPlfXAjreagJmBXAalJe1Nzrxw/s604/FB_IMG_1634707629153.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="604" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbeF1ftYpz3_eXUxWXECh2sZlkqmHRS749BKKMxrx-mlKLRofbT3EkQfD5ycArub2W_Jodgbs81AKCOmjXTCnjHJpp8ZFgHjlv_QFvOExkhIXYnQDXaY3Tb5YeEcpr--2xhBrR9qRwB7aL1XGxaZXN3YTZN92W7lFIGPlfXAjreagJmBXAalJe1Nzrxw/w400-h300/FB_IMG_1634707629153.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Her Heavenly presence was placed upon my heart in such a way, I felt as if she was 'protecting me' from the nefarious actions of others.</span></div><p>Having passed, before Christmas in 2011, from a sudden car crash at age 21....both her and I shared a common thread in standing up to our bullys. </p><p>On the difficult days I endured- crying myself to sleep over the bullying I had to put up with (despite my pleas for him to stop), I also took solace in knowing, I have survived the very worst day of my life, when my daughter's car entered the frozen reservoir...with her in it! </p><p>Nothing compares you, to having your only child pass away...</p><p>My tender heart has needed a whole lot of TLC, ever since then. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNZi83VcMQ66BOeUflJNtdk6mk6j_ueHI_ZAbZxVD8x1zNo1anDZ_k9DhSa4-sOMm8iKCOAiDZTSfZQamYcni_UIzyYt20JR2l4ox4vsCr-iGS7uRGKghMFWIDhjYcTIFBh9IxCp3z2qal2p_Lq4p6pgQPPXZfohnsRa7EuahZWNmhewuvjRvfR0HBQ/s2048/20201202_205801.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNZi83VcMQ66BOeUflJNtdk6mk6j_ueHI_ZAbZxVD8x1zNo1anDZ_k9DhSa4-sOMm8iKCOAiDZTSfZQamYcni_UIzyYt20JR2l4ox4vsCr-iGS7uRGKghMFWIDhjYcTIFBh9IxCp3z2qal2p_Lq4p6pgQPPXZfohnsRa7EuahZWNmhewuvjRvfR0HBQ/s320/20201202_205801.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First Aid kit I would need...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEindY0baq03Hc_zVoVfBlF0KTStK9OOflPZ0voafMMPdf5RLKRl-TO5mK4c3VxjFUBLMgBY6i7NlT9BAU_BA2TjIpOjGQHTt92MO9N4m2yAdAFfU6xI7428amxNQF5QHAYZakHYlzgfb3fu04pGYk7nncRavg_eXGLcVVjbnYtcqxoIEcZxY0NtC7QbTA/s2048/20191212_001054.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEindY0baq03Hc_zVoVfBlF0KTStK9OOflPZ0voafMMPdf5RLKRl-TO5mK4c3VxjFUBLMgBY6i7NlT9BAU_BA2TjIpOjGQHTt92MO9N4m2yAdAFfU6xI7428amxNQF5QHAYZakHYlzgfb3fu04pGYk7nncRavg_eXGLcVVjbnYtcqxoIEcZxY0NtC7QbTA/w400-h225/20191212_001054.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My beloved daughter Shayla Rae Dawn and I xo</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The day I spent listening to Grant read and hearing the intricate harmonies of Jill and Ashleigh, filled my weary spirit with healing and wellness. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Kk_sVbY6VGuOGg5zzR6xBKgX3F7mZp7UJbUqmVde0uvFKcpnBKraR0MeuI92enQLt0RcHqw3kxlb9v3sSMVu0SmmTknTXs720hpUXX7bo5vhKAPrE8goGQbXOqwY5Q2PF4IA0g7sgwTGvMabo1GgeNgpg9B7eKfqq81G3w4PW5HNYHNfmN9dZNQQvg/s4032/20220730_150844.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Kk_sVbY6VGuOGg5zzR6xBKgX3F7mZp7UJbUqmVde0uvFKcpnBKraR0MeuI92enQLt0RcHqw3kxlb9v3sSMVu0SmmTknTXs720hpUXX7bo5vhKAPrE8goGQbXOqwY5Q2PF4IA0g7sgwTGvMabo1GgeNgpg9B7eKfqq81G3w4PW5HNYHNfmN9dZNQQvg/s320/20220730_150844.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ashleigh Ball and Jill Barber wowing the crowd with their beautiful harmonies<br /><br />Jill Barber performed songs from her upcoming album, "Homemaker." </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I decided to try and focus on the positive and the blessings found in being surrounded by the brilliance of Island life! The first time, I slid off a dock and into the salty waters, I felt my built up tension... relieved. </span></div><p>I saw starfish, jellyfish and an abundance of sea life- everything except for whales, orcas and seals! </p><p>My daily highlight was to make clear, sweet water for the many hummingbirds that gathered outside my window. Their constant buzzing, was a gentle reminder that life can seem fleeting, so much that we need to slow down and appreciate the beauty in the littlest of things.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizL5k1kjoVoopG6PNMeRgd6wqyqQNx5Sp-uyqfWXs5_YxdAE-omhwW-w7-IsHwUfkFmH3DHWZZWjqZoMT6o6FdPWCx_zeiMKES_hchgfKaIWxkInNCCt7T5hBe_Q9tdHSyyklRUh_3IaA_bxKcWvVXto5csMGBkA73ORNz_xMD9dErudiKx1l9wyJYOQ/s3011/20220728_074423.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3011" data-original-width="1388" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizL5k1kjoVoopG6PNMeRgd6wqyqQNx5Sp-uyqfWXs5_YxdAE-omhwW-w7-IsHwUfkFmH3DHWZZWjqZoMT6o6FdPWCx_zeiMKES_hchgfKaIWxkInNCCt7T5hBe_Q9tdHSyyklRUh_3IaA_bxKcWvVXto5csMGBkA73ORNz_xMD9dErudiKx1l9wyJYOQ/w296-h640/20220728_074423.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><p>As I write this, I am drinking my brewed coffee, from the giftware I bought at the store where I worked~ a mug with the adorable depiction of a seal. </p><p>While working at the store, a combination of stress and the recent heatwave were causing havoc, on the GORE device, I have on my heart...to close a hole in it. I was born with the PFO (hole in my heart) and fortunate enough, after a Stroke and an Aneurysm, to have it surgically repaired, last summer. </p><p>I was thankful, when my best friend Judy sent me in the mail, more medications for my thyroid issue and for my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder , that I acquired...after my daughter was killed.</p><p>I also received an important phone call from Vancouver General Hospital, that the TEE Procedure I had waited a year to have done, was now scheduled for August 19th. </p><p>Originally, I had my flight on CorilAir, set for picking me up on August 15th. </p><p>Due to unforseen circumstances, I needed to leave 2 weeks earlier or risk having a heart attack, at a location, out in the middle of the Salish sea. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhds3wrK5ODaSXKY8RGU2yVJIZcM1ncaa8WistRoDb5MiZrO5S13_nYorFZan1BZAU9r9jvyKzVWL03Df0QRCidKmj3t83fug_UnTJoJj1azqA1_4sFoCfDYMY9p-INScTrX970x_mmGhROHe5ExJ8B7LmYWLN8X0jW3iSgmOx-psWoyRPiSkBtWt0UHg/s1136/2cf4c6f462afba6d331854edf51981a4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhds3wrK5ODaSXKY8RGU2yVJIZcM1ncaa8WistRoDb5MiZrO5S13_nYorFZan1BZAU9r9jvyKzVWL03Df0QRCidKmj3t83fug_UnTJoJj1azqA1_4sFoCfDYMY9p-INScTrX970x_mmGhROHe5ExJ8B7LmYWLN8X0jW3iSgmOx-psWoyRPiSkBtWt0UHg/w225-h400/2cf4c6f462afba6d331854edf51981a4.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><p>Prior to my departure, I had shared with my one roommate, Roman, about the loss of my only child and the last, poignant, journal entry Shayla had written, only 3 days before she died.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIOFtgUN-XjnwExUoDfl-hFVYEsGuWSpA99G6pe_jLlBtDeD-KWEDALIZgksacn2O30FCAAJBEw5Kxb_PBHRQn7NmafU77fkwOceT-Zjd4ipLv5MRPp9eNlJpfpgKQ2h_AVk7gylK6gP421v8msMEjdCeKUR9jhpj4KHwBMs1_6ixf3sRWNe_35xhtCg/s800/DSC07620.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIOFtgUN-XjnwExUoDfl-hFVYEsGuWSpA99G6pe_jLlBtDeD-KWEDALIZgksacn2O30FCAAJBEw5Kxb_PBHRQn7NmafU77fkwOceT-Zjd4ipLv5MRPp9eNlJpfpgKQ2h_AVk7gylK6gP421v8msMEjdCeKUR9jhpj4KHwBMs1_6ixf3sRWNe_35xhtCg/w300-h400/DSC07620.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /> Roman had requested I email it to him and I did so, as it has been shared world-wide. <p></p><p>Later that night, as I read my daughter's wise- beyond her years- words, I realized I hadn't been kind to myself and holding onto the heartache I endured while living, temporarily in a floathouse with two other men, who were also my co-workers. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVi5Gmkv4lpmCb5qlgX176eXFvGbdOPkdSHB6DpGQwlbeMkR4heCPi1BvprsdWtLeosa5nDYVG4GkWdPGy9VvcK7_FfJCF1QYMEZtqKA8TCisBOqiZYQ9Sl_sr-VP5a-iKlTFVNTqqiZCcwLCkaBpS4hT4qpODusIuB94-w1JSNIIM1cIiVeMLg--ew/s735/1c21a7225e6837974f8ba6d67904c0aa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="698" data-original-width="735" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVi5Gmkv4lpmCb5qlgX176eXFvGbdOPkdSHB6DpGQwlbeMkR4heCPi1BvprsdWtLeosa5nDYVG4GkWdPGy9VvcK7_FfJCF1QYMEZtqKA8TCisBOqiZYQ9Sl_sr-VP5a-iKlTFVNTqqiZCcwLCkaBpS4hT4qpODusIuB94-w1JSNIIM1cIiVeMLg--ew/w400-h380/1c21a7225e6837974f8ba6d67904c0aa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>I looked at what I had taped to my bedroom wall~ a quote that I always put on display, in every remote location I've ever worked in.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKyU_F5c0UWUbe1UKZx9pmRJPq6uXSZAlNth2AqNs2QVRe1osb4qV-824Gz6CnFdHYPWNsofDzMzLMrKQWVyJ8I3fVPotn-SzByNWENDj1ID0qVpEOfOHAhOjwRBXm0-48JCUuL50rrV4tLJDMkD9Ao-rMSeDcFApiSpnYG4J7bX7g7YiYUhiCW4QrGQ/s3024/20220731_160223.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2385" data-original-width="3024" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKyU_F5c0UWUbe1UKZx9pmRJPq6uXSZAlNth2AqNs2QVRe1osb4qV-824Gz6CnFdHYPWNsofDzMzLMrKQWVyJ8I3fVPotn-SzByNWENDj1ID0qVpEOfOHAhOjwRBXm0-48JCUuL50rrV4tLJDMkD9Ao-rMSeDcFApiSpnYG4J7bX7g7YiYUhiCW4QrGQ/s320/20220731_160223.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>These reminders, helped me to understand that I was not valued here any longer and my self-worth had depleted.</p><p>Despite greeting visitors, locals and guests with the community, with wonderful customer service, I was being subjected to tears- on a daily basis. </p><p>It was then, I realized my health and wellness needed to be my top priority and I booked a flight on the next floatplane (August 1st).</p><p>Flying over the vast blue sea, I remained silent while my kind- hearted pilot Shannon, navigated the course. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSMDyyb9y3GcEskoFDauzOxRr4fHYLzHLIkyRa-hJMPAB3FRAW93ahSOEUPow9Wgq-C78JnZMQET8RL2OZmyGHoshFTgYSurOIhxMaYwwRvkWRKKx7f8JxijPW0paiY70ZaBBLF1Fk_T2VrU2v1ZbUOv6eJAhpvdog2UyOcwUmm6y1y9xTuocMWnX9mg/s2535/20220801_080219.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2535" data-original-width="2449" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSMDyyb9y3GcEskoFDauzOxRr4fHYLzHLIkyRa-hJMPAB3FRAW93ahSOEUPow9Wgq-C78JnZMQET8RL2OZmyGHoshFTgYSurOIhxMaYwwRvkWRKKx7f8JxijPW0paiY70ZaBBLF1Fk_T2VrU2v1ZbUOv6eJAhpvdog2UyOcwUmm6y1y9xTuocMWnX9mg/s320/20220801_080219.jpg" width="309" /></a></div>The most extraordinary views from my floatplane seat...<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWwepXA8U4tea6zQSu5aoulNGSgFEM2dBL2QsrOzttELbMcoCofsPHC7BDGJgyuJ2m7jc5ki-guehj0RdZN5sdwBdLn-ZzcTmEQ1MWOuDg-XhA9kIJXIBt9DC_IxMGRXnWe2Ht5TQ9qSoCU5lNAEQMNJj6e0oX9zOufjp_Lkpq-UL98ptonhNAn_-_nQ/s4032/20220801_080227.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2045" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWwepXA8U4tea6zQSu5aoulNGSgFEM2dBL2QsrOzttELbMcoCofsPHC7BDGJgyuJ2m7jc5ki-guehj0RdZN5sdwBdLn-ZzcTmEQ1MWOuDg-XhA9kIJXIBt9DC_IxMGRXnWe2Ht5TQ9qSoCU5lNAEQMNJj6e0oX9zOufjp_Lkpq-UL98ptonhNAn_-_nQ/w203-h400/20220801_080227.jpg" width="203" /></a></div><p>She had shown up, to find me in great distress, on the morning of my 7:30 am departure!</p><p>My device, was once again set off, by the chaos and stress inflicted by a former co-worker.</p><p>Shannon had graciously packed in all of my belongings and I was deeply grateful for the chartered, private flight, paid for by the company I had worked for.</p><p>Once in the air, I felt my heart murmurs leveling off and I soaked in all of the beautiful visions I had been blessed to see! </p><p>My Neurologist had urged me to be in a place of little stress, prior to my TEE. Therefore, I was thankful when Roman wished me well with my upcoming hospital procedure. </p><p>It's true that often times things that are rooted in negativity can be simply turned around with the proper management. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggqVpEvaRQsn3zFRJOO2ILGFvnZ1xh4VVq3D7UBmXupYVj4WxAPQY5ttwtvZSazkmg1xMKyrIE7yxOO4EfTOb9iSrlMw96O7VNWa2psWF3ubqEq5QmQxG7VWXsHUNh8xp_xkPMFxM_TYh7Ojm3nn1tcRg-QJ9nl8UN9DqgybI8nj2XRQBwIDZKqtGf-A/s700/d5b841067c57b0610a794136fd172005.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggqVpEvaRQsn3zFRJOO2ILGFvnZ1xh4VVq3D7UBmXupYVj4WxAPQY5ttwtvZSazkmg1xMKyrIE7yxOO4EfTOb9iSrlMw96O7VNWa2psWF3ubqEq5QmQxG7VWXsHUNh8xp_xkPMFxM_TYh7Ojm3nn1tcRg-QJ9nl8UN9DqgybI8nj2XRQBwIDZKqtGf-A/s320/d5b841067c57b0610a794136fd172005.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>For me, I returned only to be sick for days, unsure what was the problem, I even took a Covid-19 test.</p><p> It came back negative.</p><p>My health issues were attributed to all of the negative space I had been surrounded in, while living in confined quarters with another roommate, whose daily bombardment, made it difficult to carry on in a positive manner.</p><p>However, the feeling of unwellness, finally lifted days later when I realized...</p><p>I was now in a safe place of transition and true healing. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQoTERZkqtD5bS6oDCQF1P8ievx-8jnE_xsgS0f6t7Edy6lPo_dsBTO2WpN-8cCnXW5mr5rtRsqhUZmKYvMLSdxGVnJvUjTEKxhVLwdno8_S5jHYztXgDJkSMZpQEatVQnb97m8YR1dSxTbE2RwSUXVk-9QoBb-z6AjXInSOwTLSkcr_eYbOalv4_cMg/s354/30498e8429870c7bc51fc94d32987b45.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="354" data-original-width="236" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQoTERZkqtD5bS6oDCQF1P8ievx-8jnE_xsgS0f6t7Edy6lPo_dsBTO2WpN-8cCnXW5mr5rtRsqhUZmKYvMLSdxGVnJvUjTEKxhVLwdno8_S5jHYztXgDJkSMZpQEatVQnb97m8YR1dSxTbE2RwSUXVk-9QoBb-z6AjXInSOwTLSkcr_eYbOalv4_cMg/w266-h400/30498e8429870c7bc51fc94d32987b45.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><p>For me, I now understand that the whole life lesson, was more about the journey- rather than the destination- in that what we often run away from still finds a way to cling to us....in a new way. </p><p>Within the sprawling countryside of where I am currently at, there is an honest feeling of refuge. </p><p>One where the next chapter of my life begins and as for my 'lost luggage'...I've handed it over to those who have a better authority over the matters that threatened to consume me, in such a place of paradise- I only hold the Joy near and dear to my weary heart.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrDMCKi9YZHdGpdzBw_ZVzs5icWu46mfeOw7Mh3Aj70rq0b4Bx91ueHXRxrKYig7PVzoDzNhMQi5LfpzzrRhQ-xIILDpGmmI8LpGi1NFaBzBAI99nEOde49g4HZ-sapr8m0zaPMB6wIdkpSJF5pkHRye9T3Y-PZZegMgufy5RtCI-MjRNZR4CCbGLhuw/s1000/He-is-the-strength-of-my-heart-and-my-portion.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="735" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrDMCKi9YZHdGpdzBw_ZVzs5icWu46mfeOw7Mh3Aj70rq0b4Bx91ueHXRxrKYig7PVzoDzNhMQi5LfpzzrRhQ-xIILDpGmmI8LpGi1NFaBzBAI99nEOde49g4HZ-sapr8m0zaPMB6wIdkpSJF5pkHRye9T3Y-PZZegMgufy5RtCI-MjRNZR4CCbGLhuw/s320/He-is-the-strength-of-my-heart-and-my-portion.png" width="235" /></a></div><br /><p>By TL Alton </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-2769281011511010672022-08-01T16:53:00.004-07:002022-08-01T19:48:38.655-07:00TRUTH~ Dial it in! <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfeV5NpP_KK-VUUlkMgFfzgOfb01t7rDQvydXqywHi24KtTiHw1XvjG3-ZLS7jX0O7dzXfbQRimzqS9DhfZX3cf_7qxY3cVtGIVs8dbHUeFohJPVg1knf8wTJQ2JooMvrA4SR20OGeXnzJiK_hSVNWfjLoeWabXEZVzyj6Q1N9aFMgfiwcHQSFePYKg/s390/5907a839871a85ffa235cd5b05d1a7e7.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="366" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsfeV5NpP_KK-VUUlkMgFfzgOfb01t7rDQvydXqywHi24KtTiHw1XvjG3-ZLS7jX0O7dzXfbQRimzqS9DhfZX3cf_7qxY3cVtGIVs8dbHUeFohJPVg1knf8wTJQ2JooMvrA4SR20OGeXnzJiK_hSVNWfjLoeWabXEZVzyj6Q1N9aFMgfiwcHQSFePYKg/s320/5907a839871a85ffa235cd5b05d1a7e7.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Your Perception – May Not be my
Reality</span></i></b><b style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">.</span></b><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-align: left;"> ~ William Shakespeare</span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Over thirty years ago, I was misdiagnosed with
an illness that saw me faithfully take a multitude of medications- that I did
not need. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">At the time, my family Doctor was perplexed at
what was causing my health issues and I was treated with various medications-
to the degree of an excess amount. At one point, I was prescribed OxyContin,
yet thankfully I had the foresight not to fill that prescription. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">For those who may not know, OxyContin is a
highly addictive, dangerous Opioid, which can lead to a potential, fatal
overdose. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Opioids are powerful drugs intended
to treat serious afflictions. Chronic pain changes the way people live their
lives and a prescription to a drug like OxyContin can give them a more normal
life. The issue is that in the past 20+ years, OxyContin has been
over-prescribed and over-sold as a low risk Opioid. The risks of OxyContin were
downplayed as much as possible in order for the new drug to play well on the
market.</span></i></b><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> Source: addictioncenter.com <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Thankfully, a change in doctors saw me be taken
off the regiment of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>my other daily
medications and soon followed a diagnosis of Bipolar. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As a patient, I was assessed three times, as
not one specialist could agree with the other that I actually suffered from
this mental disorder. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Seeking answers and wanting to be an accommodating
patient, I willfully began taking three new medications that would affect my
nervous system. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lithium can cause adverse effects
in the central and peripheral nervous system, even at standard therapeutic
serum lithium levels.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When my 21 year old daughter tragically passed
away in a car crash before Christmas 2011, my medications remained the same,
even though another doctor had prescribed another drug. Due to my research and
diligence, I discovered this prescription had the ill side effects of the
following:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Hallucinations, paranoia, suicidal thoughts
and insomnia.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, this was a powerful drug that was to be
taken by myself~ a grieving mother, whose only child had just died! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Again, I refused such a medication that would
seriously interfere with the bereavement process.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In doing so, the natural state of grieving was
allowed to run its course through the 7 stages of loss:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Shock. Feelings of shock are
unavoidable in nearly every situation, even if we feel we have had time to
prepare for the loss of a loved one. ...<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Denial. ...<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Anger. ...<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Bargaining. ...<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Depression. ...<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Acceptance and hope. ...<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Processing grief.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It has been ten years now since my beloved
daughter, Shayla Rae Dawn passed and one thing that remains the glaring <b>TRUTH</b>-
A parent never gets over the death of their child(ren). <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0yb0tPD2s_6E0PUOhE9VSCTsjb1Evev_NE61KFV1MbUrcwZaPdYn_bLm2CDid5bnC5JsmFLJz0c8KqCckPq5KXcf0fCil0Z73Dx0btpt-4IxVEQ6AwwQ6QPY1ADJ2B2g_hQiTYwurXjGtUAuERrPiRLEqAIFGtmPUN4OE_qARxqKW8-sJiRebiQoaWA/s728/c296a26bcedd02e19af75b682b91c67c.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="728" data-original-width="728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0yb0tPD2s_6E0PUOhE9VSCTsjb1Evev_NE61KFV1MbUrcwZaPdYn_bLm2CDid5bnC5JsmFLJz0c8KqCckPq5KXcf0fCil0Z73Dx0btpt-4IxVEQ6AwwQ6QPY1ADJ2B2g_hQiTYwurXjGtUAuERrPiRLEqAIFGtmPUN4OE_qARxqKW8-sJiRebiQoaWA/w400-h400/c296a26bcedd02e19af75b682b91c67c.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">This year, I could have not predicted a chain
of events that would lead to the realization that I had been misdiagnosed, for
over thirty years, taking medications that affected my weight, my health and my
wellness.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This past spring, I sought out treatment for
what I assumed was an urinary tract infection. Due to the backlog of the
pandemic, doctors and nurses were in high demand. I found myself at, a Urgent
Care Medical Facility. They handle the excess of patients needing medical care
in a short-term environment. I was not seen by a doctor, rather a nurse, who
proceeded to give me four, extra-strength Advil®- in a small, medicine cup. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As a mental health advocate for over twenty
years and someone who has sat on a Mental health Consumer Council, plus taught
the<b> B.R.I.D.G.E.S</b> course to others living with various mental health illness, I
also drew my knowledge from the years of research I had done on my medical
condition and how best to successfully live and manage a mental disorder. When
this nurse handed me the four extra-strength Advil, I simply remarked:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Are you sure these Advil®, won’t have a toxic interaction, with the Lithium
I have been taking for many years? <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Clearly the look on her face expressed how she
was not at all happy with me questioning her and tersely replied, “I am a nurse
and know better than you do!” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Therefore, in front of her, I took my bottle of
water and swallowed all four of the Advil® (ibuprofen). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This would prove to be an almost fatal mistake
on my part! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Research shows: <i>Nonsteroidal
anti-inflammatory drugs such as ibuprofen may significantly increase the blood
levels of lithium in some patients and cause lithium intoxication, which is
potentially life-threatening and may require hospitalization.<o:p></o:p></i></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As I relay this story, another important factor
was that due to two previous job losses-because of the pandemic- on December 1<sup>st</sup>,
2021, I became displaced - when I no longer had any income and needed to move
out of my suite and into my small, Nissan Micra car. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">While seeking other means of assistance, a dear
friend of mine, was the one who kept me from dying in my car. Since I was a
single woman- without any addictions or dependants- I did not qualify to stay
in a shelter. To show how cold it was in my cramped vehicle, a can of soda in
the seat of my car, split the aluminum can in two- from the minus, freezing, bitter, winter weather! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO03dBVGTrBeMqOmdBL4PrZoZGFOv_rwobI5OLVb9-ykaqYIcW8Ld0T9eEo6spqKh7sl1iPA2xqEIU4RQhlhIcWbAe4wn-DAkgV4VUU6vAtB8QJWrfW1pu6F2McVzkX5J6yEVYpvKZ71BVlv7XWaVLL8mz_Zq9JB4wMurKasdF4evFQbWprhatl_3H_A/s4032/20211227_114515%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO03dBVGTrBeMqOmdBL4PrZoZGFOv_rwobI5OLVb9-ykaqYIcW8Ld0T9eEo6spqKh7sl1iPA2xqEIU4RQhlhIcWbAe4wn-DAkgV4VUU6vAtB8QJWrfW1pu6F2McVzkX5J6yEVYpvKZ71BVlv7XWaVLL8mz_Zq9JB4wMurKasdF4evFQbWprhatl_3H_A/w300-h400/20211227_114515%20(2).jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">My friend Terry, who I met in church, many years ago... secured a hotel room for me, for a lengthy period of time.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Despite me having two vaccinations and a
booster (last summer, I had surgery to fix a hole in my heart and now wear a
GORE device on my heart), I still managed to be stricken with a bad bout of the
Coronavirus Omicron! I was gravely ill and had it not been for my dearest
friend Terry, securing me shelter, I would have certainly perished in my car! <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg80AApRzMwd0688Vo84EL5mHmkQerLBM-Y0Ri8-gYG-tRpc5hpLPJawRaJ-PzkAYZioJ_6u9GO0pY84rD2hCVYCexGio5M4wzeKm6S0xDYsg_5-btobAY6_TnWcwJj3dZfeDoAfwniHx-wmZlhlUkBDkA1lCuC3oHB3sNJEdOn8WZDwa3sP0v5BMYmRA/s550/866c659558080edabe7ef1aad803fa39.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="543" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg80AApRzMwd0688Vo84EL5mHmkQerLBM-Y0Ri8-gYG-tRpc5hpLPJawRaJ-PzkAYZioJ_6u9GO0pY84rD2hCVYCexGio5M4wzeKm6S0xDYsg_5-btobAY6_TnWcwJj3dZfeDoAfwniHx-wmZlhlUkBDkA1lCuC3oHB3sNJEdOn8WZDwa3sP0v5BMYmRA/s320/866c659558080edabe7ef1aad803fa39.jpg" width="316" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Moving forward, after taking the four
extra-strength Advil® administered by a local nurse, she also encouraged me to
take more... when the pain became too much to deal with. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Therefore, I was increasing my dosages- to the
point- where I became severely dehydrated, and a myriad of symptoms/side
effects began to present themselves: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When combined with lithium, NSAIDs
can increase lithium levels in the blood resulting in an increased risk for
serious adverse effects like confusion, tremor, slurred speech, and vomiting.
Examples of non-prescription NSAIDs include: Ibuprofen (Advil<a name="_Hlk110261559"></a><a name="_Hlk110259992"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk110261559;">®</span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk110261559;"> </span>or
Motrin®)<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I reached out to my friend Terry, as I grew
concerned as to what was going on with me? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">At the time, I had been at a hotel for one
night only and had pre-booked a local Airbnb for myself. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Another set of circumstances, would see me in
the hospital- fighting for my life! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In my state of delirium, I was misguided into
thinking driving to the local <b><i>Shoppers Drug Mart</i></b> for more liquids
such as bottled water, pop and juices to quench my severe dehydration was a
good idea! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Once I was at a nearby location of the
drugstore, I walked up to the till. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I explained my dire need for beverages and the
four extra-strength Advil® I had been given.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The head Pharmacist, a young lady, took one
look at me and said: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ma’am, I am going to have to call
you an ambulance.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I was in shock, as I had just checked into the
Airbnb and my car was packed full of my belongings!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I address in another previous blog, the instant
assistance I received both from <b><i>Shopper’s Drug Mart</i></b> and the <b><i>Buy-
Low Foods</i></b>, where my car would remain, while I was rushed by ambulance
to the local hospital. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Had it not been for the quick thinking Pharmacist,
who had also asked about what other medications I was taking? Again- I know- I
would not be here to type this post! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Once I was hospitalized and series of tests and
bloodwork ran on me, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the doctor on call,
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>came dashing in- clearly flustered as he
proclaimed: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You are suffering from lithium toxicity
and your kidneys and liver are under attack! You are only at a 9% functioning rate!”
<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The immediate response was to quit administering
all of my medications- at once! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I was left alone, in a hospital bed, where for
days I endured severe withdrawals- vomiting, I had diarrhea, cramping, body tremors
and was sweating all over! I had hallucinations and severe headaches, plus was
dizzy all of the time!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It was only much later, when I discovered to my
absolute dismay that a patient on Lithium should go through the withdrawal
process gradually over several months- not in a few days! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It's best to reduce your dose
gradually. Stopping medications suddenly (going cold turkey) can make
withdrawal symptoms worse, and for some medications can be dangerous. It's
important to get more medication in advance so that you don't have to stop
suddenly</span></i></b><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">. </span><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Source: mind.org.uk</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">After a week of hospitalization, I was seen by
a doctor, a psychiatrist and several Social workers. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I was shocked when I was being told that
neither of them thought I was Bipolar and there was the possibility... that I had
been misdiagnosed! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Combining the Advil® <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Ibuprofen) with the Lithium, I had been prescribed
and faithfully taking for over thirty years, almost proved to be a near fatal
experience! <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">At one point, during my hospital stay, a chaplain
came in- to pray for me- should anything happen.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Upon my leaving the hospital and wanting to
carry on with my life, I had been struggling with my (mis)diagnosis of my
Bipolar. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The very last chat with my family Doctor, he
suggested a complete reassessment of my mental health and wellness.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It bothered me a great deal that I had been
stuck with a label that sees the stigmatization of individuals happen within
society- especially in the workplace. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Now, there is no doubt I have dealt with depression
and anxiety before, yet to be given medications your body does not need, can cause serious health issues. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In keeping a journal for many years, I can see
myself wading into a miry pit of lows and times of anxious thoughts, which kept
me believing that I did actually have Bipolar. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This all said, being a mental health advocate
for over 30 years, having taught mental health and wellness courses, touring
with the BC Schizophrenia society and speaking to LPN's, nurses, human service
workers, plus having several friends with concrete diagnosis...<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">I've been talking to God, praying, researching
and I think at my lowest point in the hospital, when my kidneys and liver were
only functioning at 9%... as I thrust my arms to the heavens, tears streaming
down my face...I cried out to Jesus...</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Take this pain and misery from me Lord! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I honestly believe he did! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Once back on my feet again and getting accustomed
to no longer taking a blister pack of medications, I began re-assessing, certain
aspects of my life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Especially when it came to the book I had
written so candidly about and my Bipolar journey, along with the connection to my daughter and my creativity. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So then, since the 4th polished version of my
book <b><i>Under the Sitka Tree</i></b>, had been updated and released on
Amazon, I contacted my publisher and requested that <b>Bipolar</b> be stricken
from the book, both inside and out (on the back cover). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">My wise Publisher, Leon Oldale, suggested I
rest overnight on it, but he would do whatever I requested~ with regards to any
references of me having Bipolar. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The next morning I awoke, and prayed over what
was placed upon my heart...<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The following is what I felt God would say to
me about the whole matter…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">My dear child, you have lived most
of your life in a chaotic manner. When you were enduring all of the abuse you
suffered, I was there holding on to you, wiping every single tear you cried.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When at 31, the madness placed upon
you by the enemy was too much, you wanted nothing more than the ‘pain’ to leave
you… <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">You know what transpired that night
I fought so hard for you… <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I saved you...so you could go on
'saving' others. You were given this diagnosis because it was something you
would then learn from, acquire knowledge and find mercy, love and grace in
helping others who too suffered. <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">You taught courses, devoted many
years to those in need, you became closer to your daughter and wrote a poignant
story that was published. Shayla was so proud of you. You were able to be a
beacon of hope to those (like some of your friends) who were struggling as
well.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">To strike from your book, the
disorder I had you live with, is to deny the healing I brought you through. <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I am your loving father, who at
just the right time in your life, has lifted that disorder from you... but not
what all you have gained...because of it. <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Accept that you have been blessed
to be healed. Just as you lived your entire life, not knowing you had a hole in
your heart, embrace the truth, the way and the life.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Do not turn your back on something
I had you endure and learn from...go out and share, be humbled by all that I
brought you through. Grow from everything you were blessed with, because of the
diagnosis; rather than deny how it formed you into who you are. <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I am your loving father who will
continue to <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>offer redeeming love and
guide you...<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><i></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDKWnxoDjbZV50MjQlXtZwOj1Mi-ENTkekAqkckZyNqMEGXLFZ3lR4IPmATz4LGjBX9-G4BsAB1HeXjRAekLKBoNdeq4FBHME-SUKiXAxOmlnOjO4pMCZd2EiGlpWK-vxcFWOFlZH_SXGjOaOQanWF1WuK9oWzVZUrTVHRYvnd1W1m2mXd-u9fOda0g/s648/6bcf251507fb4a75b18b052737364fda.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="648" data-original-width="519" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDKWnxoDjbZV50MjQlXtZwOj1Mi-ENTkekAqkckZyNqMEGXLFZ3lR4IPmATz4LGjBX9-G4BsAB1HeXjRAekLKBoNdeq4FBHME-SUKiXAxOmlnOjO4pMCZd2EiGlpWK-vxcFWOFlZH_SXGjOaOQanWF1WuK9oWzVZUrTVHRYvnd1W1m2mXd-u9fOda0g/w320-h400/6bcf251507fb4a75b18b052737364fda.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></b></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">Therefore, the next email I wrote, was to my
Publisher Leon Oldale and I said:</span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Please leave the Bipolar
references- as is- for I need to acknowledge all that I have been blessed
with... is because of it.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Shortly after, I listened to the following song
that spoke volumes on what I was feeling inside…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"John Mayer – Say What You
Need to Say…” <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://youtu.be/kz8-U8ggQNU">https://youtu.be/kz8-U8ggQNU</a><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I could not deny that being given the (mis)
diagnosis of this mental illness, has actually given me opportunities to reach
out, share and want to support others, living with their own disorders. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Within my acceptance of all that has taken
place, I began to understand that sometimes our lives are taken down certain
roads… in order to give us life lessons that we need to endure, so as to grant
us a better understanding of what <b>‘taking a stand’</b>, truly means! <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiODo5rljhp7zCrpY-bbaWp6TzoG7H80wZODGfE5uQeHOgA0Qh2JfOCurWY5XVj7OiwWPH54qQuR8Cdx48L5AYFr5tvL1FtVQxD8kqclXFOUzL-9k01JRDEzFb3h9D2bcPNEzW_4FxwesEn6vp6vRnjLKFlDSuJnsCslhQ1OmfA0Ry-rge1DAGphxZv1Q/s554/307352e01a5fd84c5ff80f9a71c8dda6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="554" data-original-width="554" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiODo5rljhp7zCrpY-bbaWp6TzoG7H80wZODGfE5uQeHOgA0Qh2JfOCurWY5XVj7OiwWPH54qQuR8Cdx48L5AYFr5tvL1FtVQxD8kqclXFOUzL-9k01JRDEzFb3h9D2bcPNEzW_4FxwesEn6vp6vRnjLKFlDSuJnsCslhQ1OmfA0Ry-rge1DAGphxZv1Q/s320/307352e01a5fd84c5ff80f9a71c8dda6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It was not long after… that my life would take
another sudden turn, to a place where refuge was being offered…yet more
endurance would be needed…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">By TL Alton <o:p></o:p></span></p>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-54323819801257631872022-07-20T11:35:00.018-07:002022-08-06T10:50:50.612-07:00The Flipside of A Creative Life <p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEazh__nqoghjoD-BocgeFNlVjtvFVAsik_eqgr5EH-kbldOb8ffl8vUoCCoor26XbC_7fAT_iiGSqUoz9dqoO0DWaYG6hLnpVVxRCKjyjRQCluMhX3N0io1l6GOauOKl2pKT9eMaRTpZDFMcArvvAGqSIwLjBxuz0UBAE3czwROmWWz5163PEwE-Mjw/s1200/f0c13a4a82113007c11de2152a4add6b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="674" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEazh__nqoghjoD-BocgeFNlVjtvFVAsik_eqgr5EH-kbldOb8ffl8vUoCCoor26XbC_7fAT_iiGSqUoz9dqoO0DWaYG6hLnpVVxRCKjyjRQCluMhX3N0io1l6GOauOKl2pKT9eMaRTpZDFMcArvvAGqSIwLjBxuz0UBAE3czwROmWWz5163PEwE-Mjw/w225-h400/f0c13a4a82113007c11de2152a4add6b.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: 17px; text-align: left;">"The fullness of life comes from an identity on giving and joy." ~ Mary Pipher</span></div><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Everyday we awaken to a new slate - a chance to rewrite our story. With the seasons of change, we either find ourselves immersed in the throes of love and laughter, or the pain and regrets of our past.</span><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">If anything that the loss of my daughter has taught me, is that life can flip in an instant! I went from being a loving mother of the most unique, beautiful creative soul in my only child- to a Vilomah- the Sanskirt word for "a parent, whose child has died."</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifgyV7IdM9L6MmsJsuf3SHwCLaUDlaunXmwcxIbisSDikmR0u4Ds-cQ_S4a4cunYle4Bz413MZzJTNOtFklZfzMQCNboRZy_4rKbWv5DDUOhtlBXLqliE6pnsFmO5jhNAcMZazxxZQWAly-L2HB1fa7Nipq3ZSsLPD8sll3jBbtRWZop2o14liM9OuGQ/s800/20190222_210935.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="638" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifgyV7IdM9L6MmsJsuf3SHwCLaUDlaunXmwcxIbisSDikmR0u4Ds-cQ_S4a4cunYle4Bz413MZzJTNOtFklZfzMQCNboRZy_4rKbWv5DDUOhtlBXLqliE6pnsFmO5jhNAcMZazxxZQWAly-L2HB1fa7Nipq3ZSsLPD8sll3jBbtRWZop2o14liM9OuGQ/s320/20190222_210935.jpg" width="255" /></a></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 17px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 17px; text-align: left;">Throughout my ten years of sharing posts on my blogs, I've given my readers a genuine insight to my grief journey.</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 17px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">Days where my bereavement felt as if it would consume me whole- to times of beautiful releases- in the Heart 💖 Pebble Movement I created- to honour my daughter's passion for rockhounding. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">Recently, I have been sharing more about my beloved babygirl. Without realizing it, the grief that is forever etched upon my heart, began to re-surface and I was triggered. Before I knew it, a wave of emotions and swells of tears began to pour forth. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">Often, our souls that harbour our heartache, reminds us that we are only human- perfectly flawed and overfilled with emotions that can arise at any given time.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggoo513WideWnCtVlxYkR-5eJiTCtNU8WR2ldoBKMybD4LF9pWGfm2hZau0RXTRvB3JUhQhR2XQXz055uWQL3_e4JvcY8s0pXqfWoOaWdpjPccO04OmRxsCaIQfgq920uDJHBSaphFVw9nJsLs3ufLVTT4Izm6UWg40cZfWTgvt3qSz3Biccvl4D60gw/s280/6037999854e436c0747b4d18a10a0bd9.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="236" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggoo513WideWnCtVlxYkR-5eJiTCtNU8WR2ldoBKMybD4LF9pWGfm2hZau0RXTRvB3JUhQhR2XQXz055uWQL3_e4JvcY8s0pXqfWoOaWdpjPccO04OmRxsCaIQfgq920uDJHBSaphFVw9nJsLs3ufLVTT4Izm6UWg40cZfWTgvt3qSz3Biccvl4D60gw/s1600/6037999854e436c0747b4d18a10a0bd9.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div>During the time spent where I am working seasonally for the summer, I've awoken to sailboats moored outside my window of the floating house, I reside in.</span></div><div>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">In my workplace, I enjoy asking visitors/ our guests, where they have sailed in from? and where are they going to? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">I am fascinated by the boating world and have held unto another book idea that dwells in the heart of those taken with the open sea.</span>
<br /><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;">Another wonderful encounter, was when </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">a customer named Holly Vivian came into the general store, to mail off some of her magnificently created postcards ❣️</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">I fell in love with her whimsical designs and inquired if I could get her to create a half dozen postcards, for myself. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">Holly happily agreed and I shared my own personal website: </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="http://www.tlaltondesign.com">www.tlaltondesign.com</a><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;">.... for some inspiration :)</span></div><div><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Holly is also on Instagram. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">I love other creative souls who tap into their own passions and breathe life into their destinations- whether created on pieces of paper or carved into wood- their creations come to life in the beautiful designs that are formed by their hands and vivid imaginations! 💖</span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">In typing this, I've needed to take a day off, as I had an encounter with nature that saw my feet collide with a large protruding boulder- in the great outdoors! </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">As my body reminds me of my age, I am resting inside, while the sun shines all around me❣️</span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">I continue to remind myself how in an instant the flipside of life, can occur. </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">A lovely local woman, has kindly offered her massage skills, in a few days when the tenderness leaves me...</span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Being a part of the world that seems to be in its own natural state is such a blessing!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-nxWEH08OmUmJIQcZcFJoAdTEkYfV8uxIgrjw4UikR1xwpFaRwp3lgi1-8ffeNENihcCKSRJoqxXg832kEVRerPLnTKipao-LUPPBYUzJEpNNy64H4pUpKiyZfCe5BwPUp0E5TJKylbTVcoHjGSRKyrxusHm5YrfFkz7TVdMhCGaZh4_YOugfYUcWA/s740/b0e101e392e62134bcd9baf36334814c.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="740" data-original-width="735" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-nxWEH08OmUmJIQcZcFJoAdTEkYfV8uxIgrjw4UikR1xwpFaRwp3lgi1-8ffeNENihcCKSRJoqxXg832kEVRerPLnTKipao-LUPPBYUzJEpNNy64H4pUpKiyZfCe5BwPUp0E5TJKylbTVcoHjGSRKyrxusHm5YrfFkz7TVdMhCGaZh4_YOugfYUcWA/s320/b0e101e392e62134bcd9baf36334814c.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Today, I pre-purchased a ticket to an upcoming event, I will journey to attend. </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Canadian Author and broadcaster, Grant Lawrence, will be sharing some of his brilliant stories~ collected and penned into his books.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi36CT1qmAwyjuQnpviHHeTCIym8iY17_jhS5iMryv6WI0bl0ZpgChC-6unX1I5Ccqy-QIlxfyvcxUjgbPE8-egpdRjkLHBhkITQP3hfQWutZv_Zg3xUWqiNHPwu3xjj6409SiDOdIygpOVDcTMFCQxcPzJt6ojAEvIn-emD_bLTbpvzw0_4UfNv4MXHw/s4032/20220716_153439.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi36CT1qmAwyjuQnpviHHeTCIym8iY17_jhS5iMryv6WI0bl0ZpgChC-6unX1I5Ccqy-QIlxfyvcxUjgbPE8-egpdRjkLHBhkITQP3hfQWutZv_Zg3xUWqiNHPwu3xjj6409SiDOdIygpOVDcTMFCQxcPzJt6ojAEvIn-emD_bLTbpvzw0_4UfNv4MXHw/s320/20220716_153439.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">As well, his beautifully talented wife, Jill Barber, will be performing/ singing.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;">Video Link: <a href="https://youtu.be/K8m6c9ON8fI">https://youtu.be/K8m6c9ON8fI</a><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">In checking out her music videos, I was enthralled by her silky smooth voice, with beautiful tones that are reminiscent of a cascading waterfall, pouring into the vast blue sea!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Where I am right now is meant to be...as I share about Sitka, I am now hearing- to my absolute delight- customers/visitors sharing they have heard of my novel, "Under the Sitka Tree." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">This humbles me to a place of utmost gratitude, for keeping the 'pinky promise' to my late daughter, Shayla, has always been my intentions as her mother. </span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1-dD5eD0LJFUxO32CfkJIQvQn-mmkJLQDa5agU1ZSh8IHYztLMFaiqPy4B7XN1RgLoZVPz_ZsYfG9DBCNETJWv_m8nO_N-ZIoCddYQURQrbdU8-uwOA-kA-EpFQN5B-GoW6Yo8xoZVMw4JmkfGWOSbsZlxSiVAHJXuBdJLHT1IC8bFe9aRLdZbbsHxA/s1308/deee49a37024bbf45d9c8690840232c1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1308" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1-dD5eD0LJFUxO32CfkJIQvQn-mmkJLQDa5agU1ZSh8IHYztLMFaiqPy4B7XN1RgLoZVPz_ZsYfG9DBCNETJWv_m8nO_N-ZIoCddYQURQrbdU8-uwOA-kA-EpFQN5B-GoW6Yo8xoZVMw4JmkfGWOSbsZlxSiVAHJXuBdJLHT1IC8bFe9aRLdZbbsHxA/s320/deee49a37024bbf45d9c8690840232c1.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><div><span style="font-size: 17px;">Where I am, is a beautiful reminder that the door that was before me, I chose to open as wide as I can...to see me connect with other remarkable passionate beings, each who </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;">are finding ways to pursue their own lively dreams...</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;">"Morning, I see You in the sunrise, every morning. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">It's like a picture You've painted for me...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">A love letter~ in the sky..."</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">- Chris Tomlin 'Nobody Loves Me Like You do.'</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">By TL Alton</span><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"> </span><!--/data/user/0/com.samsung.android.app.notes/files/clipdata/clipdata_bodytext_220720_113055_973.sdocx--></div></div>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-6222448565404137682022-07-15T13:25:00.010-07:002022-07-15T19:41:19.920-07:00 My Fantasy Island <p><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBGQ8Gpx7MizxA0HaSuFOtJYOdHpEq8DHZv1RCQMfpzpnj-C-nbNRCPewzwzX4fqeAj_y17KFu-dcNXqp1dxOeRteMHviQfbbzPC3gKWfwZ9hzigXl45lkB8jgh0z7kXUkgwzD2ZuM6NU1g7yEhMbE6G-ABWACckLnUuibSx7WJhojQPleHoueIpXzw/s920/11e4bba6ca153acbd2c9d1e83213ce29.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="920" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBGQ8Gpx7MizxA0HaSuFOtJYOdHpEq8DHZv1RCQMfpzpnj-C-nbNRCPewzwzX4fqeAj_y17KFu-dcNXqp1dxOeRteMHviQfbbzPC3gKWfwZ9hzigXl45lkB8jgh0z7kXUkgwzD2ZuM6NU1g7yEhMbE6G-ABWACckLnUuibSx7WJhojQPleHoueIpXzw/s320/11e4bba6ca153acbd2c9d1e83213ce29.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br />Hearing a floatplane, take off on the ocean blue, outside my window in the floating house I am staying in...is something so amazing and surreal, my eyes affix to the beautiful vision, before me! ~ TL Alton<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOMsdvUVQWuCKVF-VQbIVEc66UenYiagUqhgNb64WtbzKBO92AeLXMaAiXISW9SIl45PC1jGqSUXAvK_93i7tSpTxtWpE4ucx37qvgxOdhsGhiM6OzFyCjHsIbkk-3XIuoH_wHGELG4r33qYjH5ZWdFvkWDr0OOSaRBSum8hRaicg7HSnr4OBDLnZRA/s4032/20220715_121419.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOMsdvUVQWuCKVF-VQbIVEc66UenYiagUqhgNb64WtbzKBO92AeLXMaAiXISW9SIl45PC1jGqSUXAvK_93i7tSpTxtWpE4ucx37qvgxOdhsGhiM6OzFyCjHsIbkk-3XIuoH_wHGELG4r33qYjH5ZWdFvkWDr0OOSaRBSum8hRaicg7HSnr4OBDLnZRA/s320/20220715_121419.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><p><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></p>Everyday I awaken, I feel as if I am living a dream and in many phenomenal ways I truly am!</span><p></p><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Over a month ago, I answered a work ad that were looking for good reliable, friendly people to work as a team, in their remote general store. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">When I say remote...it took me over half a day of driving, a freight delivery truck, a skiff loaded with my belongings and three ferries to get here!</span><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">For I am blessed now, to be part of working within a fabulous team of others, serving a remote community of locals and boats of visitors- from all over the world!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF01LA1NdJ7fajzjaNPYb2Ock2BFavrO6z2vgV8TwlaLfRkhhce2EDDnbBhBHVsxSNSUeOkLESMlzRBr4Iy1dG3_yInq0rCWiF9I67JlLH2xXYDVg7gG2YNQqIICPeuWdR3wdiOlRG49yz91kabJwDN2i-OMRaHzQCTcMzuM_huR-hpCge9HrIH6ZAfQ/s467/19f9c71ed7367c20c73bf50388650c59.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF01LA1NdJ7fajzjaNPYb2Ock2BFavrO6z2vgV8TwlaLfRkhhce2EDDnbBhBHVsxSNSUeOkLESMlzRBr4Iy1dG3_yInq0rCWiF9I67JlLH2xXYDVg7gG2YNQqIICPeuWdR3wdiOlRG49yz91kabJwDN2i-OMRaHzQCTcMzuM_huR-hpCge9HrIH6ZAfQ/s320/19f9c71ed7367c20c73bf50388650c59.jpg" width="274" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div>They have come seeking peace and the pristine beauty of the area; a refuge where supplies and necessities, along with a variety of treats awaits them.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">Reflecting on the past few months of constant upheaval, dealing with my stress and health care, I have arrived into a Cove where even the birds seem to have a more inviting chipper.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">As I write this, hummingbird birds are feeding off the sweetness offered in a hanging feeder, right outside my window. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">Returning to the workplace, after many independent jobs, has seen me once again flourish in customer service! I love people...I love connections and I love to hear where people have sailed in from...and where they are going.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">My previous work in caregiving, landscaping and as a house/pet sitter has seen me shine in a sector where nurturing is essential to me.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">Not having any children or grandchildren, due to my daughter Shayla tragically passing away at 21, has left such a void in my heart and soul. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">Now, as I serve a bevvy of delicious ice cream to wide-eyed children, I marvel at how I am able to extend beyond my customer service, to see the pure joy and smiles that greet me, as I scoop...and scoop 😀</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: 17px;">Those that know me, also know I am an 'open book,' and much to my joy and gratefulness, my team leaders/ bosses have welcomed me sharing about my first novel I've written: "Under the Sitka Tree"</span><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.tlaltondesign.com">www.tlaltondesign.com</a><br /><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">To my absolute delight, I've had many of a visitor share how a loved one or a friend they know, have lived in Ocean Falls, BC.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">This is the small, once thriving community, which inspired the setting of my book. </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">As I have just completed five days of working in a wonderful general store and the most recently celebrated 50 years of Refuge Cove being established, I am in awe of all they offer and the fabulous services provided such as fuel, showers, laundry, food/supplies and a postal service!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibvJk5hPU4VVUbgOPP__Ba1qKHMStndhxEJH3A8YRc6KsKerdv06Dllbgaz7M5a7stfPeuPgVaj1Ijerfx4t_LftzqaQ3loYBYmRTgn1WLlZ_qawKLonYHN75RnZTBWXcbXuswr07FNjuHo0gig0ObAU8SbyUj7-ZKu3VRPZfYapZ-bVVCMmW2o5rYmA/s735/c7eb84a3eddfa6b633ac0fb711d26bbb.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="616" data-original-width="735" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibvJk5hPU4VVUbgOPP__Ba1qKHMStndhxEJH3A8YRc6KsKerdv06Dllbgaz7M5a7stfPeuPgVaj1Ijerfx4t_LftzqaQ3loYBYmRTgn1WLlZ_qawKLonYHN75RnZTBWXcbXuswr07FNjuHo0gig0ObAU8SbyUj7-ZKu3VRPZfYapZ-bVVCMmW2o5rYmA/s320/c7eb84a3eddfa6b633ac0fb711d26bbb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">On my first day off, I set out to do my part in keeping my newly shared space clean, as I am a person who does not get along well...with alot of germs.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">This all said, when I arrived here, the floating house was wonderfully beyond my expectations! Freshly painted and outfitted with three bedrooms, an open kitchen/living room space and a bathroom...the old Atco trailer I once shared (working in the Provincial Parks) with a multitude of characters...seems far more 'rustic' than my current, beautiful seasonal residence! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">In bringing over what seemed like 'everything, but the kitchen sink'...today I re-aquainted myself with my Mr.Clean, Lysol and sanitizer spray...scrubbing every surface until sparkling ✨️ 😊 </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">I made sure to keep open the many windows, to allow the brackish sea, to settle within the home, I share with a fellow co-worker :) </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">During my two days off, I plan to dive into my new book, which seems perfectly suited for my environment...</span></div><div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisxCzvLRkNeqygIPXV8vIpVDa0wiXP6IpeQNVEiQsXCLddBW0ucM7wePaw8o5eTvAW4f3RdLLA483F57J2juNjp8WR3Y7NYLx7LoCoaSwVDepXpW4kNSyUbgHX6IqWCWyEGfqvE8yMe1uWnq-W_bRLE1b7BmlIhntapSiv9BxSekXEoBWuQJxU722cmg/s4032/20220715_083243.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisxCzvLRkNeqygIPXV8vIpVDa0wiXP6IpeQNVEiQsXCLddBW0ucM7wePaw8o5eTvAW4f3RdLLA483F57J2juNjp8WR3Y7NYLx7LoCoaSwVDepXpW4kNSyUbgHX6IqWCWyEGfqvE8yMe1uWnq-W_bRLE1b7BmlIhntapSiv9BxSekXEoBWuQJxU722cmg/s320/20220715_083243.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">As I finish typing this, I think of the five, glorious days I spent on a magnificent acreage in Mission, BC, prior to me starting my job. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">At the owners/hosts beautiful 1904 place of residence, I was treated to homemade meals, endless stories, and a fantastic array of song and guitar playing! A lovely chocolate lab named Cocoa, playfully brought me her frisbee to toss.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">One of my first nights spent in the sprawling farm/ countryside, saw me sit in my camping chair, gazing up at the blanket of shimmering stardust that enveloped me! </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">In the past month up until now, I have found my self-worth again, a purpose in returning to serving others and a pure joy in making some amazing connections! </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">In serving up some ice cream, a visitor asked about my journey and I replied...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">"I live a Nomad life." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">Shortly after, another visitor named Chris came back and inquired what it is like to live how I do?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEpDKDDZjLrJyRjwL341Vkq0orMtymGX8vUqXQmpZo_j26deSjlhmJGCIGThEq1FOfX41qxRlbIK5btCjhbrhn2Ej_SEwEe9DQfhrsGw2oeJ7YeKM5yV2Xg4oe_3S51EdmWZ9QzB9VtOdCeX6tcJzlznrxx5WzPqIhfG3Tdu8WoK7JTxY9PeoHC5lDA/s2878/20220715_083453.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2878" data-original-width="2765" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEpDKDDZjLrJyRjwL341Vkq0orMtymGX8vUqXQmpZo_j26deSjlhmJGCIGThEq1FOfX41qxRlbIK5btCjhbrhn2Ej_SEwEe9DQfhrsGw2oeJ7YeKM5yV2Xg4oe_3S51EdmWZ9QzB9VtOdCeX6tcJzlznrxx5WzPqIhfG3Tdu8WoK7JTxY9PeoHC5lDA/s320/20220715_083453.jpg" width="307" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">To me...I am a constant traveler; a believer and empathetic soul...an explorer and vivid storyteller...one who is now both embracing this beautiful chapter of my life and finding my worth among people who are also 'living the dream.' </span>
<br /><br /><br /></div></div></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgscUFlY7L2Xnfvo91rOesIQwDu_sKed1lGLHER5pXkm32UvrfBMjJGarol4f1qBM4umQehOtx3ITqS-B1i3XBznA8LYhLh1bXt1t03RaYbGH2DppmsOCoOGJKx-2f_CqU5MLwSOnX20LcCj1hPZCmnBSMSYW3Ls7QTBcfLcgUeAX2Q-OLi3WWGKzp63w/s4032/20220715_121419.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgscUFlY7L2Xnfvo91rOesIQwDu_sKed1lGLHER5pXkm32UvrfBMjJGarol4f1qBM4umQehOtx3ITqS-B1i3XBznA8LYhLh1bXt1t03RaYbGH2DppmsOCoOGJKx-2f_CqU5MLwSOnX20LcCj1hPZCmnBSMSYW3Ls7QTBcfLcgUeAX2Q-OLi3WWGKzp63w/s320/20220715_121419.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">By TL Alton </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-21405163678738862022022-07-06T08:04:00.003-07:002022-07-15T16:12:59.649-07:00Walk Away...<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrxOTVVokaOs5OuhfkLs-qISWngG8x_VkwXhgB1AN_cmNUZyCqvOx6zYhBGyXndjEQ6ntxEv_abnZqNc5XJS1Z1mbSi0WDQYtKfF9KqXQeOFCZTaHpsGbsLGGqG-UoVBuqaHlybOCuBvg_NyUQ2BHjbqz4NWztasimEztwL0S7_XafKaC8DxgECl-EA/s960/9e6a90960355927ed67c3402c023cf81.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrxOTVVokaOs5OuhfkLs-qISWngG8x_VkwXhgB1AN_cmNUZyCqvOx6zYhBGyXndjEQ6ntxEv_abnZqNc5XJS1Z1mbSi0WDQYtKfF9KqXQeOFCZTaHpsGbsLGGqG-UoVBuqaHlybOCuBvg_NyUQ2BHjbqz4NWztasimEztwL0S7_XafKaC8DxgECl-EA/w266-h400/9e6a90960355927ed67c3402c023cf81.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>I've seen people holding onto nothing...</p><div dir="auto"><div dir="auto">Broken dreams and broken chords</div><div dir="auto">Running on empty, losing sleep</div><div dir="auto">It's true...I've earned these cracks upon my feet...</div><div dir="auto"><br /></div><div dir="auto">Walk away from all that you know </div><div dir="auto">Walk away and hold your own...</div><div dir="auto"><br /></div><div dir="auto">And I've seen people holding onto something</div><div dir="auto">Smiling, with no place to call Home...</div><div dir="auto">In you, I see something so familiar </div><div dir="auto">My dear friend, so nice to have you home...</div><div dir="auto"><br /></div><div dir="auto">And this all seems unreal</div><div dir="auto">Just how far we've come</div><div dir="auto">Look in the mirror</div><div dir="auto">Not sure who I was...</div><div dir="auto"><br /></div><div dir="auto">Walk away from all that you know</div><div dir="auto">Walk away and hold your own... </div><div dir="auto"><br /></div><div dir="auto"><br /></div><div dir="auto">When you bow your head and wonder...</div><div dir="auto">Tell me now, will it all become real?</div><div dir="auto">Fill me in as I sometimes sit and wonder</div><div dir="auto">Wonder how you may ever find your feet? </div><div dir="auto"><br /></div><div dir="auto">Walk away...</div><div dir="auto"><br /></div><div dir="auto">~ Xavier Rudd </div><div dir="auto">"WALK AWAY" </div><div dir="auto"><br /></div><div dir="auto">VIDEO LINK YOUTUBE: </div><div dir="auto"><br /></div><div dir="auto">https://youtu.be/7GQvdgT6Eh0<br /></div><div dir="auto"><br /></div><div dir="auto"><br /></div><div dir="auto"><br style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: large;" /></div></div>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-48897924793882687142022-07-01T14:36:00.010-07:002022-07-01T14:45:49.067-07:00Next Chapter...PLEASE!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMAhpba7ztldhtwmOVL21uTXkZlEcB8gtsTi28ZK7PIYB5qIeavIaCed6ESt0zxakU30Yxt8gRkE1gzisnwdyV1GjEj3DWE4e5uq8pBQ3rfyCSTsnKD-8D1FiyqtZw5xqBeZwQuNpLflhdqPtBJEhlUzkhgKeDV2fHLOsHY7K_NdQznhUakqCKN0o6w/s295/12688051_1646694568925830_1111086065416554011_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="295" data-original-width="236" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMAhpba7ztldhtwmOVL21uTXkZlEcB8gtsTi28ZK7PIYB5qIeavIaCed6ESt0zxakU30Yxt8gRkE1gzisnwdyV1GjEj3DWE4e5uq8pBQ3rfyCSTsnKD-8D1FiyqtZw5xqBeZwQuNpLflhdqPtBJEhlUzkhgKeDV2fHLOsHY7K_NdQznhUakqCKN0o6w/s1600/12688051_1646694568925830_1111086065416554011_n.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><span style="font-size: 17px;"><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div>I have travelled many a mile, in order to return to the one place I am at home within...the pounding surf fills me with the brackish sea and I feel my heart is complete. ~ TL Alton </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">There is no place I'd rather be than feet covered with the wet sand, caressed by the waves of the ocean.</span><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje9IhOtuTle2Sd8D4zNMWCmjaDXwhNbRtZb0BvoQHh0Ji7MOrq0ewSozSZph1RXIF3EX_jzJaBJPfeH0iTJvr9GnQ3UjkzuI2Xez1Hcqhyh7-u8ltlnBWLJ5fZxchVLsTY5xG7z_DRJ9vsOCWathrJO3fm8csKBIKGEf9a_to6at2XpmIhuJ4nECV3cw/s567/ee042cdf9df820cb1c2cb28fa46a681b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje9IhOtuTle2Sd8D4zNMWCmjaDXwhNbRtZb0BvoQHh0Ji7MOrq0ewSozSZph1RXIF3EX_jzJaBJPfeH0iTJvr9GnQ3UjkzuI2Xez1Hcqhyh7-u8ltlnBWLJ5fZxchVLsTY5xG7z_DRJ9vsOCWathrJO3fm8csKBIKGEf9a_to6at2XpmIhuJ4nECV3cw/s320/ee042cdf9df820cb1c2cb28fa46a681b.jpg" width="305" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div>In the past six months of uprooting myself, I have dealt with my health, faced my fears and stood my ground on many things.</span></div><div><div>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">If I am to be honest, I've back slid in areas connected to my past and found myself surrounded by the shadows, while I desperately fought to hold onto the threads of my spirituality.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHBj9VHsIbYp_8qRh4EhobUp9W702DPnQPv62iPnnd1N0zB0-_08FIQUql8K1oLZ_kt6d2S0t7sl15BW3vQVfDkPLTDGR4FeBDY81c62-2LZV-gYf254MUHqEvTWBchmKLHA7jilq7qTECZ59ZmPVekEkCmJdAo05fZhoErN6GkicCPw0VwbdX7hXuHQ/s640/dd95186bedaf901a886de9a09aed3451.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="427" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHBj9VHsIbYp_8qRh4EhobUp9W702DPnQPv62iPnnd1N0zB0-_08FIQUql8K1oLZ_kt6d2S0t7sl15BW3vQVfDkPLTDGR4FeBDY81c62-2LZV-gYf254MUHqEvTWBchmKLHA7jilq7qTECZ59ZmPVekEkCmJdAo05fZhoErN6GkicCPw0VwbdX7hXuHQ/s320/dd95186bedaf901a886de9a09aed3451.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div>When I walked back into places I had already been pulled out of... I was reminded that No matter what I've done that Nothing can separate me from the redeeming love of God!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">For He is for me...not against me!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">Along my journey, I've always carried in my back pack a tattered, stained piece of paper, I was blessed to rec</span><span style="font-size: 17px;">eive years ago - back in Port Alberni.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">A complete stranger walked up to me with the most beautiful smile and said: "Here, this is for you."</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXg33tvuO9SelxLcAjk1NM3msw9NgRDq0ZVJM7OiTu0skKq0e6vAn5p6aYkgVXCqTCSunm4MWVFwGcB6Z2iRAhpIwVe9gme8ia1mxjP50ML9VOho-TW49CwZpDQEnbvEPhWbnVeqbRzRneL1byVgCYzpok7x1WE-R7IeLA6-9x_2OrNRD9ngf-xG-xRw/s4032/20220701_143717.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXg33tvuO9SelxLcAjk1NM3msw9NgRDq0ZVJM7OiTu0skKq0e6vAn5p6aYkgVXCqTCSunm4MWVFwGcB6Z2iRAhpIwVe9gme8ia1mxjP50ML9VOho-TW49CwZpDQEnbvEPhWbnVeqbRzRneL1byVgCYzpok7x1WE-R7IeLA6-9x_2OrNRD9ngf-xG-xRw/s320/20220701_143717.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div>Over time, I have sat in the quietness of my car at night and wept upon this piece of paper, filled with God's words.</span></div><div>
<span style="font-size: 17px;">I have took it out in my tent, when I could not sleep and held it in my trembling hands. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">When I have revisited my sordid past, and things seem too overwhelming, I have recited out loud the words on a page that is much like me- worn...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">Yet the fire that burns within...is stronger and I find myself fighting for that little girl who yearned for the proper love of her earthly father. </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">To be held in caring arms and told I am a daughter worthy of the Heavenly Father's love.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2KNg061s-5tRT0I9qsjO3Eeox_BTbDU9ru54RKN3DJXRK7c_48SLE5KIdwCqW0SPXwhbvOPLYPwWX0H0OXJnOGh-JuAcQScmp57F8PcUxhdJuVTDPSUimRu2j_9Tt1LNf4G31Pm_2sUFiJaAprMIR-W1jj75UYIRpd03c0VW5Sgm7pDN3rwOt3RfcpA/s843/d329658935b4bd73e74b31f208477a22.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="843" data-original-width="735" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2KNg061s-5tRT0I9qsjO3Eeox_BTbDU9ru54RKN3DJXRK7c_48SLE5KIdwCqW0SPXwhbvOPLYPwWX0H0OXJnOGh-JuAcQScmp57F8PcUxhdJuVTDPSUimRu2j_9Tt1LNf4G31Pm_2sUFiJaAprMIR-W1jj75UYIRpd03c0VW5Sgm7pDN3rwOt3RfcpA/s320/d329658935b4bd73e74b31f208477a22.jpg" width="279" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">My next chapter has come about only because I never gave up on myself...that the words of Psalm 147:3 are something that has a stronghold in my life! </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">When I trust in the Lord to lead the way with all my heart...I am NEVER disappointed! </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">I am embracing all of the new beginnings about to take place...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 17px;">Knowing that when I have been brokenhearted, God's always been there with me...all along. </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">Taking a line from P!NK...I need the Courage to change...in order to reveal the strength within me. Most of all...I need to continue my daily prayers for myself and others who need them...</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0a8A2nRcpbTMIEwaXD1UD9nRIeIguJl0DJrHJuFntWr9plI2fA0eq-V01VW0nk_d5QAfy2E4dUzMZenapDVKByon92qq4OrPmjnudOb7nbIAsg_x-ZEG8OjkvC9BsR4kHWbtLD0Z60apcArYJL1GNSDeEJdD_kPMDmrA-Bxx0nqoHQ3igNz4e2DsSuQ/s1008/f86aa0816743d77e2a720fc208ad6b73.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1008" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0a8A2nRcpbTMIEwaXD1UD9nRIeIguJl0DJrHJuFntWr9plI2fA0eq-V01VW0nk_d5QAfy2E4dUzMZenapDVKByon92qq4OrPmjnudOb7nbIAsg_x-ZEG8OjkvC9BsR4kHWbtLD0Z60apcArYJL1GNSDeEJdD_kPMDmrA-Bxx0nqoHQ3igNz4e2DsSuQ/s320/f86aa0816743d77e2a720fc208ad6b73.jpg" width="234" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div>Recently, I had an outpouring of references given on my behalf, for an amazing and brilliant opportunity.</span></div><div><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">As I sat there reading the kind, compassionate words from others describing me, I felt the tears of Joy release...for I am my harshest critic and often do not give myself enough credit, for all I have endured....and...Survived! </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">As I pack up my things, once again on the move...this time I carry those meaningful passages from dearest friends and former employers and I let them settle deep within the cracks that need to be filled up with light 💖✨️</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 17px;"></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirj3g_VWDW2XM7CtfNyG_ooy2k22-eQVaZ9OtQa0YGodedZJncHpQGaLpMY9sJLacMxk1a_33-TilKy9J0kzItEzuuIFQN2YprnenmGsXKdH4cwLMC-t4t2phOjJ5xdpBK8NvnuL3RfzoGj3sUpRKqcsZY28bue33qIIcmPR9VlYkAbtXnCFzzTRnymA/s1040/8826bd8dae2de6f8c5037374f057a231.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1040" data-original-width="735" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirj3g_VWDW2XM7CtfNyG_ooy2k22-eQVaZ9OtQa0YGodedZJncHpQGaLpMY9sJLacMxk1a_33-TilKy9J0kzItEzuuIFQN2YprnenmGsXKdH4cwLMC-t4t2phOjJ5xdpBK8NvnuL3RfzoGj3sUpRKqcsZY28bue33qIIcmPR9VlYkAbtXnCFzzTRnymA/s320/8826bd8dae2de6f8c5037374f057a231.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 17px;">They are my 'travelling companions,' on the next adventure that will see me rejoicing and relishing my new surroundings! </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">For when I delight in the Lord, he provides the real desires of my heart! </span>
<br /><br /><span style="font-size: 17px;">By TL Alton ❤️ </span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><!--/data/user/0/com.samsung.android.app.notes/files/clipdata/clipdata_bodytext_220701_142517_127.sdocx--></div></div></div>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-70099139542286494282022-06-24T08:30:00.000-07:002022-06-24T08:30:02.113-07:00She Use to be Mine…<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: red; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She Use to be Mine…<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: red; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Song by Sara Bareilles<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: red; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Lyrics: <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">It's not
simple to say<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">Most days I
don't recognize me<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">These shoes
and this apron<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">That place
and its patrons<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">Have taken
more than I gave 'em...<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">It's not
easy to know<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">I'm not anything
like I used to be<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">Although
it's true<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">I was never
attention sweet center<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">I still
remember that girl<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">She's
imperfect but she tries<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">She is good
but she lies<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">She is hard
on herself<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">She is
broken and won't ask for help<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">She is messy
but she's kind<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">She is
lonely most of the time<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">She is all
of this mixed up<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">And baked in
a beautiful pie...<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">She is gone
but she used to be mine<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">It's not
what I asked for<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">Sometimes
life just slips in through a back door…<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">And carves
out a person<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">And makes
you believe it's all true<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">And now I've
got you<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">And you're
not what I asked for<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">If I'm
honest I know I would give it all back<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">For a chance
to start over<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">And rewrite
an ending or two<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">For the girl
that I knew<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">Who be
reckless just enough<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">Who can hurt
but…<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">Who learns
how to toughen up when she's bruised<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">And gets
used by a man… who can't love…<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">And then
she'll get stuck and be scared<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">Of the life
that's inside her<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">Growing
stronger each day<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">'Til it
finally reminds her<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">To fight
just a little...<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">To bring
back the fire in her eyes<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">That's been
gone but it used to be mine...</span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">She is messy
but she's kind<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">She is
lonely most of the time<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">She is all
of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;">She is gone
but she used to be mine…<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><i></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxMHaqiVn_o2GnEUxULNFNRe7Nz9UswgP51D8BgDrjfSmDrICsypULU7XZ2MgK_7-hVZ6xYMaifjtioB34rtv8j0KmuHuIwAKtXa33QPQvqnRXMT69ljp9j3GgD-_u6kHGLhQyttl5hHIVit5tSYaFTrfERmnM3FGql0-OGBBFCbdnBap6TvLJemVejQ/s2944/20220622_094721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2944" data-original-width="2208" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxMHaqiVn_o2GnEUxULNFNRe7Nz9UswgP51D8BgDrjfSmDrICsypULU7XZ2MgK_7-hVZ6xYMaifjtioB34rtv8j0KmuHuIwAKtXa33QPQvqnRXMT69ljp9j3GgD-_u6kHGLhQyttl5hHIVit5tSYaFTrfERmnM3FGql0-OGBBFCbdnBap6TvLJemVejQ/w300-h400/20220622_094721.jpg" width="300" /></a></i></b></div><b><i><br /><span style="color: #4472c4; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: accent1;"><br /></span></i></b><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Powerful Video Link to song "She Use to be Mine...": <o:p></o:p></p>
<a href="https://youtu.be/53GIADHxVzM">https://youtu.be/53GIADHxVzM</a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-79419492769773513302022-06-19T12:04:00.002-07:002022-06-19T12:04:33.591-07:00Only with...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDArh6IDiWPC0ZitQz_vC5YTuU8_43mD2dS7gFlrRJc8zL74XCRcRIkegyCK1kq4mqiCnQSR32h7imMoLi0nEzk1EKZ2YfX6VWbjSg9GctN6corqdEBPr4Hj4SiwdgUCcnwWSnQmosFzLAWWcVdsD2wYRD8ZJm3cysuV-_BfmHMPP28tVX4av1mCL8Lw/s960/288896ee7150c334481d05d5d74fd01f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDArh6IDiWPC0ZitQz_vC5YTuU8_43mD2dS7gFlrRJc8zL74XCRcRIkegyCK1kq4mqiCnQSR32h7imMoLi0nEzk1EKZ2YfX6VWbjSg9GctN6corqdEBPr4Hj4SiwdgUCcnwWSnQmosFzLAWWcVdsD2wYRD8ZJm3cysuV-_BfmHMPP28tVX4av1mCL8Lw/w426-h640/288896ee7150c334481d05d5d74fd01f.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-65047390564057696802022-06-19T11:59:00.002-07:002022-06-19T11:59:14.688-07:00Writers...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBY0JkFBK7L4rt4FEXoUp-jxcqsQ2gzef8aAtrWCQXHJ7zgSs2EspLD5UN5glPVRc-ufAbE3jC6_nZ2ZGXOVgECSjDc7deg_m5b8AAb1kCpF-l1mBCKHy5dyXHsahoRn_hzg2Aj4jBW839MXejsRm-3pDp8KAYK6SAi5emKuAf1D2U2UGsph0FQa7qJQ/s912/d942d002d515dc0556013770cc20cc31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="736" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBY0JkFBK7L4rt4FEXoUp-jxcqsQ2gzef8aAtrWCQXHJ7zgSs2EspLD5UN5glPVRc-ufAbE3jC6_nZ2ZGXOVgECSjDc7deg_m5b8AAb1kCpF-l1mBCKHy5dyXHsahoRn_hzg2Aj4jBW839MXejsRm-3pDp8KAYK6SAi5emKuAf1D2U2UGsph0FQa7qJQ/w516-h640/d942d002d515dc0556013770cc20cc31.jpg" width="516" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-76577140974677768682022-06-18T15:43:00.002-07:002022-06-18T15:43:42.797-07:00Enough<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhveYqJDKBTINTSXA1_68SFBYj36auKytswinoheG-PsIgzLR09pYOBR-T4w7f1wLr5mQzmKGarBHyUv79aZhLsLRgCGiZespzz6LjU5e3yhd0EYjCShwsPrbVYvW55f_Ipkhz6etzwE5MnYBhsVLjNpid2h-7aAtuxrq3-4MzG-YsU1bzeUqT_2QLj_Q/s1023/e0d54e49b5bf9cdb8f322c14ee91f9d1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1023" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhveYqJDKBTINTSXA1_68SFBYj36auKytswinoheG-PsIgzLR09pYOBR-T4w7f1wLr5mQzmKGarBHyUv79aZhLsLRgCGiZespzz6LjU5e3yhd0EYjCShwsPrbVYvW55f_Ipkhz6etzwE5MnYBhsVLjNpid2h-7aAtuxrq3-4MzG-YsU1bzeUqT_2QLj_Q/w450-h640/e0d54e49b5bf9cdb8f322c14ee91f9d1.jpg" width="450" /></a></div><br /><p></p>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-13828806437977864842022-06-17T10:15:00.005-07:002022-06-18T15:52:43.446-07:00NEVER SURRENDER <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Bk-6l1B31lw8EDMFnP2v1QcEPzp3SdBC84ssshR7oVDELPkBZ4nBrsAOZNeKxCx57qrHQQ3UHIicpcF_c44TN8GvZKjqIDIFWqXT_tYusQTyE8I8aJQ0G1NBqxzsTMriNjxQofEIAugIg0iRcHDNLNc5uRscG8y1wgXqGufoF4-0NhyFRNFUnqqMRw/s1598/Screenshot_20220121-215212_Gallery.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1598" data-original-width="1056" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Bk-6l1B31lw8EDMFnP2v1QcEPzp3SdBC84ssshR7oVDELPkBZ4nBrsAOZNeKxCx57qrHQQ3UHIicpcF_c44TN8GvZKjqIDIFWqXT_tYusQTyE8I8aJQ0G1NBqxzsTMriNjxQofEIAugIg0iRcHDNLNc5uRscG8y1wgXqGufoF4-0NhyFRNFUnqqMRw/w264-h400/Screenshot_20220121-215212_Gallery.jpg" width="264" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s a line from the movie, “Redeeming Love,” where the character
Michael says to Angel:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You didn’t choose the life you had…but you CAN choose the
life you want.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We ALL have to make that choice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Growing up, without a proper father figure- having a distorted
view of what role men would play in my life- saw me chase after a forbidden
cycle of seeking love, all in the wrong places. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Time after time, I found myself going back to a place where I
no longer had a right to be! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I risked my own soul, imprisoning myself into a box, where I
struggled to break free out of. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I rejected any aspect of real love, in favour of the abusive
kind that I had entangled myself in, since a little girl. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Pushing those away, who were genuinely caring, I clung to
those that stripped me of my dignity, staining my darkened soul, with their own
convoluted needs. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In writing this post, it is to take responsibility for my
role, in walking myself into invisible cells… that I gave the trusted key to
those, who had their own bandaged wounds, leak into mine. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">At times, the guilt I have carried, has threatened to consume
me with its shame.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I now understand, I have been grieving the loss of innocence,
the childhood stolen from me and the little girl who was subject to horrendous
role playing...only an adult should have known. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I could see the fragments of my brokenness- a reflection in
the waters, I was so desperate to cleanse myself of! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Then, God blessed me with something so precious…that I was
given a second chance in the life of my beloved daughter. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I would strive to protect her from the ‘monsters in the closet,’
and yet…years later, reading through the 29 journals Shayla left behind…I
realized I had at times, failed her just as I had been let down. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Did I love my child beyond measure? Of course! Did I try to
never surrender to my own past demons, in order to make good on my promise to
love and protect her….most certainly! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Yet, as I look back at particular moments in my past, I can
see where I failed my daughter miserably- and own self, in the end. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This is why my own personal, spiritual relationship with my
Heavenly Father, has never been an easy one! For most of my life, I never saw
myself worthy of being held by God’s loving embrace. For I simply did not know
that throughout my own existence. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Then, as I escaped yet another toxic situation with a man (Colin),
bent on my destruction- I realized the role I have sought so hard after- has
always been there! I have a Father God, who knows the immeasurable loss of his
son, Jesus and the ultimate suffering he was put through…for my sins, for the
world’s transgressions. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Since my displacement last December, it now has been ½ a year
I have lived- without a proper home…I have needed to dissect the broken parts
of my life and see where it is that I went ‘off the rails’ and trusted the
wrong person to be a part of my life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I have also needed to acknowledge the harsh truth in that I
have never felt wanted, loved or fully accepted by a man. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">How could I look up in my prayers to the Lord, when I looked
down so ruthlessly on my own self? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Although I wanted to be free of repeating such viscous cycles…I
also yearned to be wholly loved for who I am. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">What came as a surprise, was the pure love I have always
sought hard after…was literally already mine! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I exist, not to be an object of lust or to fulfill someone else’s
needs….NO! I exist to fulfill the purpose that God has for me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I was also blessed with the joy of being part of something
bigger than me; a role that would see my words used for healing, forgiveness
and release in a pure way…in the writing of my novel: <b>“Under the Sitka Tree.”
(UTST)<o:p></o:p></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Having no real sense of roots, Sitka gave me a community of
people that I consider ‘family.’ <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">For every character, reflects on someone I either have known
or are a part of my present life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Ospero Falls, was created out of love, a place where HOPE thrives,
and people look out for one another. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It is my safe haven. A place where the seeds of healing have
taken form and among the characters in my storyline… I EXIST.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I give thanks…Praises to a God that never left my side, nor
gave up on me! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I did not have to ‘win him over’ or offer parts of me that I
felt were a bargaining tool.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">My faith has come with ‘no strings attached.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It is a place of Unconditional love, patience and dignity that
has been restored through the blood of the Saviour, Jesus Christ. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">My sobering moment of understanding my self-worth, has come
only after much suffering, sorrow and loss…all things the Lord knows well. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Recently, my formatter Leon Oldale, from Oldale Publishing worked
‘along-side’ me in going through UTST and making any revisions necessary, in
order to speak the language I have always intended too. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In doing so, I came to understand how my faith has always guided
me- from the darkness- into the LIGHT, with a story that is etched upon my
fragile heart.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Another source of inspiration has come from Canadian Poet/author,
Rupi Kaur, whose book “Homebody,” is a declaration to my soul. Her boldness to write
of things unspeakable, is a testimony, to her own personal story of overcoming
and resilience. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Y7JMg_Bj3Nw13utxr5P0wQutE8x9qSA2LJG1UvT6_uUFcX3kU8dJZgmUI3nCXyOuaE7XUA7IIvQMpfOGs1Dqc4U-A_3WSNl-IF7eP6-0GFB59iWskcwVmmLsQwhi0frKywHV1sVq0fIe9bZ7ewKaHhwglZ_bA3nG73Q4XaDNegXXBhzc33279CGOXg/s800/210616142a83db906f74aea89b61510d.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Y7JMg_Bj3Nw13utxr5P0wQutE8x9qSA2LJG1UvT6_uUFcX3kU8dJZgmUI3nCXyOuaE7XUA7IIvQMpfOGs1Dqc4U-A_3WSNl-IF7eP6-0GFB59iWskcwVmmLsQwhi0frKywHV1sVq0fIe9bZ7ewKaHhwglZ_bA3nG73Q4XaDNegXXBhzc33279CGOXg/s320/210616142a83db906f74aea89b61510d.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As one season has closed and another one beginning, I
continue to explore the many intricate and complex parts of my life…knowing
that the shame has now shifted and replaced with an understanding that I AM
WORTHY of LOVE! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">God’s Love has always been engrained with me; I simply needed
to reconnect with the core of the little girl, who was so eager for love… she
was blinded by the distorted versions of it! <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPTPhqnbvPnZPC3-vK01qYdLeqhk0IHir3DRc9YplxLiW-4XMil7g2GdrUYw85jmA4iy6LKoHb3XrgWKtISTXvlP1IBQK3V8acDlZsO2QBMbWwrdemOQ9QozmxGRUciRjtOPINjis-QaqzlcSHtUDGSTn1ca9wDZ3HW_V3ffWcweGc_P6aQLvzMjKyQ/s1673/Screenshot_20220205-152250_Google.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1673" data-original-width="928" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPTPhqnbvPnZPC3-vK01qYdLeqhk0IHir3DRc9YplxLiW-4XMil7g2GdrUYw85jmA4iy6LKoHb3XrgWKtISTXvlP1IBQK3V8acDlZsO2QBMbWwrdemOQ9QozmxGRUciRjtOPINjis-QaqzlcSHtUDGSTn1ca9wDZ3HW_V3ffWcweGc_P6aQLvzMjKyQ/w223-h400/Screenshot_20220205-152250_Google.jpg" width="223" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">By TL Alton <o:p></o:p></span></p>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-84270110492173444112022-05-31T20:15:00.007-07:002022-05-31T20:31:14.868-07:00Try Losing One...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYObZ-7nbwcJAMTICC8zdM_FehQB-RH8hoWF6dqCMOUbWna6C0ON3xaEFCLnwKTX1Pq9WqG651s3nwttri5D2WEbijmKWuA1lJYXCXHm31TzZwdJ_PN-Euv7N3-jFL6uHLZRASQKXSmBXVzIdMquo-pW5EK4KYnJDoKftj2YxCHCX2Jr84g2PBmYGPQ/s731/aa357c25f71edfec466afaf233dbab1e.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="731" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYObZ-7nbwcJAMTICC8zdM_FehQB-RH8hoWF6dqCMOUbWna6C0ON3xaEFCLnwKTX1Pq9WqG651s3nwttri5D2WEbijmKWuA1lJYXCXHm31TzZwdJ_PN-Euv7N3-jFL6uHLZRASQKXSmBXVzIdMquo-pW5EK4KYnJDoKftj2YxCHCX2Jr84g2PBmYGPQ/s320/aa357c25f71edfec466afaf233dbab1e.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> If I had a dime for everytime I've had a man say to me..."I will never put you thru the Hell the last guy put you through..." 💔💦 <div>I'd probably have a place to call home.</div><div><br /></div><div>In my life, I have met so many woman, who have devalued themselves, lost their identity as a woman and given into paths of placing themselves in violent, narcissistic relationships that I could actually form my own tribe! </div><div><br /></div><div>At the very top, would be a leader whose own scars on the inside,would cover me whole on the outside...</div><div><br /></div><div>I've spent most of my life processing my latest mistakes that when I'm knelt in prayers, I ask God to reveal my purpose. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then...I will have a day like today that stands out so clear as to what defines me, I can't help but feel my heart shine unto others! </div><div><br /></div><div>The most beautiful aspect of our journeys is that we get to climb into the 'raft of our lives', and ride the wild waters...until that day when we do not return.</div><div><br /></div><div>For me, I have packed more adventures, loved the hardest my heart could give to another and learn time and time again...the power of forgiveness. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5F6KzAePppIJbS1KDHXy1IL7teRklGFqc8qbtxYDimDrpT90xlDscVOMcKt6N4vVQ9HQOBRyy03O6qUuhqHtqICl_htnsBNHPi-rcM6UakHw4gJVKDfrGV3VBQr6gl5k5eR-p2kJeSh10eTFDg1ETblrIMuOsiUT7O4S8AV_us-SUKDlBjLr47Qq5Lw/s612/0f02f37280c297aa7235a9e598e11baf.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5F6KzAePppIJbS1KDHXy1IL7teRklGFqc8qbtxYDimDrpT90xlDscVOMcKt6N4vVQ9HQOBRyy03O6qUuhqHtqICl_htnsBNHPi-rcM6UakHw4gJVKDfrGV3VBQr6gl5k5eR-p2kJeSh10eTFDg1ETblrIMuOsiUT7O4S8AV_us-SUKDlBjLr47Qq5Lw/s320/0f02f37280c297aa7235a9e598e11baf.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Recently, a dear friend sent me a wonderful photo notecard and an important reminder that there is absolutely NOTHING I can do, which would separate me from God's LOVE ❤ </div><div><br /></div><div>So, as I let go of my fears, nursing the wounds that are slowly healing, I embrace Philippians 4:6~7 with all I have left to give. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh504sXmhOJ6u6pDVjRr6hXbigngWVDRYRXX02RzyHl85Hmm65SODPQBTxNAtFp1Qa1lYqmuKg4Siti9vBf-0m9Jl8XdxbhdzHbxW7Yxjtto9qKEtc7LvpVQTlIGywP-H-FPxHKiw1F4zdiP-hu4wyg7JK1I8I52R-EQd3mJDbcQoqjChBKWr61yZUjhw/s600/fda110ed2ede933e1c6390d4b02c9c3b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh504sXmhOJ6u6pDVjRr6hXbigngWVDRYRXX02RzyHl85Hmm65SODPQBTxNAtFp1Qa1lYqmuKg4Siti9vBf-0m9Jl8XdxbhdzHbxW7Yxjtto9qKEtc7LvpVQTlIGywP-H-FPxHKiw1F4zdiP-hu4wyg7JK1I8I52R-EQd3mJDbcQoqjChBKWr61yZUjhw/s320/fda110ed2ede933e1c6390d4b02c9c3b.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Tonight, I heard a song that was so specific and relatable to me...I thought he penned the lyrics knowing what I've not only experienced...but also Survived!</div><div><br /></div><div>This is for those who have had the rare opportunity to find a woman of faith, loyalty and strength...</div><div><br /></div><div>"TRY LOSING ONE..." </div><div>~ Tyler Braden</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://youtu.be/WVi93FwdOAc">https://youtu.be/WVi93FwdOAc</a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>In speaking with a someone today, on the phone, who has been helping me sort thru the messes of my life...they said this: </div><div><br /></div><div>"Tomorrow, we get a new page- a new chapter and while it is unwritten for us today...</div><div>makes new way for our fresh tomorrow's!"</div><div><br /></div><div>For every man out there who has 'lost forever' that one remarkable woman who shone in their lives... stood by them, and gave everything she ever had... this ones for you...💟 </div><div><br /></div><div>By TL Alton </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><p></p><p><br /></p></div></div>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-44250934272222976782022-05-25T10:08:00.002-07:002022-05-25T10:12:27.898-07:00Love and Immeasurable Loss in TEXAS<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLxah9LLUUH7DCXYa3xgjqDC4ZhDj6BInT9IGAMGA5KyPjp4zSVBzMEl5656hQttaSZEIrzy1EQeIV5u7JIMp8N_CE6h3s7EqKjiKQIbm853K1noUqh-kYk9mtgOUBergeY8S_rhyW5KQCxRAG0PQNEGU0BoDLQXqHeG2X-w5C0VtbprNZVCVPwUfvg/s480/crying-eye_1_orig.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="471" data-original-width="480" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFLxah9LLUUH7DCXYa3xgjqDC4ZhDj6BInT9IGAMGA5KyPjp4zSVBzMEl5656hQttaSZEIrzy1EQeIV5u7JIMp8N_CE6h3s7EqKjiKQIbm853K1noUqh-kYk9mtgOUBergeY8S_rhyW5KQCxRAG0PQNEGU0BoDLQXqHeG2X-w5C0VtbprNZVCVPwUfvg/s320/crying-eye_1_orig.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We can never makes sense or come to terms of acceptance, when a child dies...especially in such an evil, unfathomable way! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG2ZA8mAfjHPwnq8YXsoPgnuTE046stasT4jJwiOaZ_SuogNt5pypbXEvomVlmbrDOD7v3Jd_jsz_A7O-kk0nnjmAFfTPcep9K145U4RIm8U8bW70Bya503ceRLSGki-K73jkHQVckRRgwzIwfr4lmr-Kx5pN_wJ7qkQvl2v_JufzD_QKN4hyV6UArpA/s1078/Screenshot_20220525-092959_Chrome.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="884" data-original-width="1078" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG2ZA8mAfjHPwnq8YXsoPgnuTE046stasT4jJwiOaZ_SuogNt5pypbXEvomVlmbrDOD7v3Jd_jsz_A7O-kk0nnjmAFfTPcep9K145U4RIm8U8bW70Bya503ceRLSGki-K73jkHQVckRRgwzIwfr4lmr-Kx5pN_wJ7qkQvl2v_JufzD_QKN4hyV6UArpA/s320/Screenshot_20220525-092959_Chrome.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Source: President Joe Biden </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8PIQVd_DnpqKOa4W8iU7BBTCCXrcaM0MJjN3HYRFn2V800Jy6cKn7CXPF0hJPEWJ7j95VGYR0nJssaeaSkqaUOysNpeDVTri5_cyq-odAavoRoyMh-yIJ1VLUaXrnu6--IJnlF59EwZlc8lmyjBTl78OD1QEVixn6aNE2lf5lN_tvZOztEx-f74DZ3w/s602/d1dd384e75b6a4cbe23c35955f45a847.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8PIQVd_DnpqKOa4W8iU7BBTCCXrcaM0MJjN3HYRFn2V800Jy6cKn7CXPF0hJPEWJ7j95VGYR0nJssaeaSkqaUOysNpeDVTri5_cyq-odAavoRoyMh-yIJ1VLUaXrnu6--IJnlF59EwZlc8lmyjBTl78OD1QEVixn6aNE2lf5lN_tvZOztEx-f74DZ3w/s320/d1dd384e75b6a4cbe23c35955f45a847.jpg" width="319" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I cannot comprehend the unexpected tragic losses of innocent, little children, their lives ending on the soil of an Elementary school! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My heart is broken for their unimaginable losses and my hands are folded in prayers. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There will never be justice, closure and a chance to understand what truly happened that horrific day! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">From my heart to all of Texas, I send my LOVE❤....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">By TL Alton </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-37953420795251043852022-05-24T00:55:00.012-07:002022-05-26T07:41:02.091-07:00The Lessons We Carry <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5afs5kc6GpwwjTJoFeHbzxU8kmGOoovzC6hcJUAnjmDjYzDKisCouuBHIEdxHwgKI_oAfK-v9InF_CTGqJBY97ep3kmBGgsejPwHzKyePJxAZUaI1Il3tPWPZuWMKAfUUtrv3hY-K0jLL9kkA7V15L3aAoT6sUiLIcGqCbzjDlUcuW3gkRJ_VD6PB7g/s1136/83f6cd9eb49fe44c30d01cd9c31a36ba.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5afs5kc6GpwwjTJoFeHbzxU8kmGOoovzC6hcJUAnjmDjYzDKisCouuBHIEdxHwgKI_oAfK-v9InF_CTGqJBY97ep3kmBGgsejPwHzKyePJxAZUaI1Il3tPWPZuWMKAfUUtrv3hY-K0jLL9kkA7V15L3aAoT6sUiLIcGqCbzjDlUcuW3gkRJ_VD6PB7g/s320/83f6cd9eb49fe44c30d01cd9c31a36ba.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Where I am at right in this moment truly shines on the darkness of the shadows that follow me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I am letting the days unravel... settling into a place of unrest within. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Surrounded by light, I breathe in through the cracks, seeking peace, shelter and better health and wellness. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The following words are of great comfort as I process all that has unfolded in such a short matter of time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG52l4LqL8-MKH7dr-R6imgYufxjlfPu69bXkSz-Tmn6LRpLWgcurrIkpHuanoyDB4rtKnsSNAP65DTOZuUqlYIl-FF89PwGdvenwbLc-xxjxBsKV2e8b5SSNjzoH-jgjf_19VxaCmLynWqSrUII2RkyJcI9OqoyCI6g-XCuFFp67WHdsgz0e6HWR0KA/s1067/Screenshot_20220517-060710_Our%20Daily%20Bread.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="508" data-original-width="1067" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG52l4LqL8-MKH7dr-R6imgYufxjlfPu69bXkSz-Tmn6LRpLWgcurrIkpHuanoyDB4rtKnsSNAP65DTOZuUqlYIl-FF89PwGdvenwbLc-xxjxBsKV2e8b5SSNjzoH-jgjf_19VxaCmLynWqSrUII2RkyJcI9OqoyCI6g-XCuFFp67WHdsgz0e6HWR0KA/s320/Screenshot_20220517-060710_Our%20Daily%20Bread.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">From the confines of my vehicle, as the neon sign flashes "All Are Welcome," my tired eyes hold the words and let them settle unto my weary heart. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Recently, I removed my last two blog posts about Colin Newell, not because I was asked to or forced to do so...I did it as my point had been made very clear...that it does not require much too overtake a person's life...I KNOW... as it happened to me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>At a previous place of shelter...I was greeted by the opposite sense of disconnection. A beautiful sanctuary, where the poster on the wall spoke volumes: <div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTVYkIR8FPrulNmk0BEcuAo0p-PwgHZ1vRShe1eSUa73krvzftDzpB71e-dmu6k7_2eIsdQX7eUoC4C5uj3M9bNa01GwdEeQEuCY29NVc7krri3xWK8Wg85w9Q1BatqS09fDNydhn1Ugic55LJdzF1DFdO1Oxay6duFHSxR6Z_-rxoTpyE3vQnmrE9w/s3949/20220516_174605.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3949" data-original-width="2962" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTVYkIR8FPrulNmk0BEcuAo0p-PwgHZ1vRShe1eSUa73krvzftDzpB71e-dmu6k7_2eIsdQX7eUoC4C5uj3M9bNa01GwdEeQEuCY29NVc7krri3xWK8Wg85w9Q1BatqS09fDNydhn1Ugic55LJdzF1DFdO1Oxay6duFHSxR6Z_-rxoTpyE3vQnmrE9w/s320/20220516_174605.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I am reminded of the little four year old girl, who had no idea that over three decades, she would endure abuse, trauma and loss that were coming her way.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In my reflecting... every mistake I've ever made has been clearly written upon the wall...of my biggest regrets. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today, was no exception. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As the heaviness of the anniversary of the grim and tragic discovery of unmarked graves- peppered with the scattered bones of Indigenous children- reminds us... as a country we are stained with the wounds, which flow from those, who had so much taken from them. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As a nation, we need to come together collectively and unite with those, whose children's cries rises from the scorched earth... trodden on by the feet of those whose vows are now ripped apart by the ugly, tragic, truth of residential school abuse. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">To this day, much like the holocaust, there are those who deny these deadly secrets our world has harbored- ever happened! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yet, I've looked into the dark pools of emptiness that echoes generations of pain, mistrust and horrid abuse... among those scarred... generations later. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today, was also a painful reminder of those who deny the sufferings placed upon myself, growing up. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Those who cannot fathom my journey, nor would have endured such misery. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It is then I fold my hands in prayers, as I Am a child of God, who is reminded the Lord's heart breaks over these hortible things, which have taken place.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdnfyOmswoKpoL3D3l7b1yFl0KwCvboleqSQyqiNPS6B6llcpo1rHZ9bZGLPobkAPGLsjAw1qiWe_bYCw4mGZ-7rh7eehCeXF7uyqtW5Tfz27IeoO4h74EcDg2HWXa4A2wMdk9TmMfDD3yrdxKn1ESzb9gHSjf-X9McVi2NFd29PYJzXIoLGTlxQF9bw/s736/e143b52fef62b2107fc55b27b45cd91b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="736" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdnfyOmswoKpoL3D3l7b1yFl0KwCvboleqSQyqiNPS6B6llcpo1rHZ9bZGLPobkAPGLsjAw1qiWe_bYCw4mGZ-7rh7eehCeXF7uyqtW5Tfz27IeoO4h74EcDg2HWXa4A2wMdk9TmMfDD3yrdxKn1ESzb9gHSjf-X9McVi2NFd29PYJzXIoLGTlxQF9bw/w200-h200/e143b52fef62b2107fc55b27b45cd91b.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">At 51 years of age, it is no longer my responsibility to convince others of the hellfire I have walked through.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">What is important... is that I acknowledge I sometimes miss the mark myself in understanding the mishapen paths of others. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I get so wound up in my own heartache and sorrow that I sometimes forget, others are also suffering.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Over the years, writing my endless posts and investigative articles, I've been given an insight to the darker side of things and the life lessons, it has taught me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtRsxt94rCDwjfLB8vK1elC33n8kZ25oFR4rIHzQwjwtOLoQmd2AITubbnyxtgkevJY-ZXGoB9ORC6d3Jcg5gkcwAf--TLrCHJOLNGZmRugquKvbD0_HTzlBWY0Ie4l9btRmkj86YPVclC-GthAoC7P7pE9JXjOJd-qMG6p5i3x-E87XC4WVeh5zF3Q/s1067/Screenshot_20220524-000955_Google.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="872" data-original-width="1067" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtRsxt94rCDwjfLB8vK1elC33n8kZ25oFR4rIHzQwjwtOLoQmd2AITubbnyxtgkevJY-ZXGoB9ORC6d3Jcg5gkcwAf--TLrCHJOLNGZmRugquKvbD0_HTzlBWY0Ie4l9btRmkj86YPVclC-GthAoC7P7pE9JXjOJd-qMG6p5i3x-E87XC4WVeh5zF3Q/s320/Screenshot_20220524-000955_Google.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So, as the golden arches near me, are a reminder of all those served...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I pause to reflect on the</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> challenges of our fallen world and those</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> residing in it...including me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Seq17ylrrTleYfhpRZDWEL9duH9EvhahI1nf-srUGhJQOzulAw7JwzGIcxd91Pco6fNIrOKsASNNmRxdk7dCtfHSru6SY-pbG9E3xONcTswDl3u982dBFIy1YxDT9KZmqesvcui5DpqFkaWzjI6QuYL2xITrxMqK0imG3uc6FDSCIVzPJXT6SpFvVw/s852/8900e9441c6fcc175a532f39ac17d68d.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Seq17ylrrTleYfhpRZDWEL9duH9EvhahI1nf-srUGhJQOzulAw7JwzGIcxd91Pco6fNIrOKsASNNmRxdk7dCtfHSru6SY-pbG9E3xONcTswDl3u982dBFIy1YxDT9KZmqesvcui5DpqFkaWzjI6QuYL2xITrxMqK0imG3uc6FDSCIVzPJXT6SpFvVw/s320/8900e9441c6fcc175a532f39ac17d68d.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">By TL Alton </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /> <p></p></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-19931784169372033562022-03-01T20:13:00.001-08:002022-03-03T16:23:38.396-08:00My Deepest Love, for Ukraine <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlmpyCDzXPZe16SUswLoYWJNEUwXvYAb5izAvqh9D2sK-GvDehKW2X_IVJpOpKN0AYvvn0lLr8MITBxf0hPtPnJPmzYwR4UCgMzug7EUBz1RGDmnOIIUyZ5tP_u8UrIOrA0RlbhwpkPP7LrYk9yfyHrlMj4sVzf8hUg2mE_NYjCeATeammkSoW00A9hg=s960" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="618" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlmpyCDzXPZe16SUswLoYWJNEUwXvYAb5izAvqh9D2sK-GvDehKW2X_IVJpOpKN0AYvvn0lLr8MITBxf0hPtPnJPmzYwR4UCgMzug7EUBz1RGDmnOIIUyZ5tP_u8UrIOrA0RlbhwpkPP7LrYk9yfyHrlMj4sVzf8hUg2mE_NYjCeATeammkSoW00A9hg=w258-h400" width="258" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">My heart is shattered, much like a basket of pysanky, fallen
to the ground</span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The missiles, are wiping out future generations, of those
whose lips have been silenced <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As convoys carrying death, are streamlined across the world…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am numb. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Frozen by images that embody the spirit of loss, spilling
forth onto the daily news<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am deafened- by the unimaginable horror of a one-sided war-
consumed by greed<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">5, 514 miles separates me from the two choices those families
have to make…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Cages or Wings? <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I ponder with sarcasm… how in only travelling 3, 212 miles…</p><p class="MsoNormal">I
could be in the ‘Happiest place on earth’...</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Yet, there is no joy found in bunkers, air sirens and in the
loss of thousands of innocent lives…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">As the droves of the true walking dead march onward toward
hope<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My connection to
their world is lit up with carnage, sorrow and battle<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">These are the only options that now bleed into my social
media<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For them… surrender to the white, blue and red or trade in
their lives for their wings? <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I look at the cracked egg in my trembling hand and say a
prayer, as I step forward<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">With my deepest love and support, along with others,…for Ukraine. 💞🌻🌻🌻<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLe8_3dBRIjAY6c5eQkBOAkcjsQ6nQTuJiveQ7dIhkjaVq092aztV6YQDGpLo5BrviMN7yuIKRcvyv2Q6zDbhREFHer1WqrwE7AKAWfTbliseo40oCfm07oP-yfJ2RX24z6nDRwTN0_ACJy7RhcicCoCuSKJ5pJAui9jz075G6Jpcj3w5LcIiK8T0IOQ=s275" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLe8_3dBRIjAY6c5eQkBOAkcjsQ6nQTuJiveQ7dIhkjaVq092aztV6YQDGpLo5BrviMN7yuIKRcvyv2Q6zDbhREFHer1WqrwE7AKAWfTbliseo40oCfm07oP-yfJ2RX24z6nDRwTN0_ACJy7RhcicCoCuSKJ5pJAui9jz075G6Jpcj3w5LcIiK8T0IOQ=w320-h213" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">By Tonya Hancheruk<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-21945300417360664322022-02-23T22:17:00.004-08:002022-02-24T02:36:27.663-08:00Dancing Among the Stars<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhMAhoZ_8HaEzz8Va5J6s52dWjN54qyI9Dd3RkEUIUxioXqi5JHM06F6fONTAWrftOaEJKXE0tRDFeZHKl_yx2xSUflaegnRT8M1V0XLZUiClgjBF7J5iMIQ7OviV_Iz9tnt88TUo-vEpHvEiv4YkTFO4moj-1oPr_KdqpeWml5C_rtGE1faqpKkACh_A=s2260" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2260" data-original-width="1911" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhMAhoZ_8HaEzz8Va5J6s52dWjN54qyI9Dd3RkEUIUxioXqi5JHM06F6fONTAWrftOaEJKXE0tRDFeZHKl_yx2xSUflaegnRT8M1V0XLZUiClgjBF7J5iMIQ7OviV_Iz9tnt88TUo-vEpHvEiv4YkTFO4moj-1oPr_KdqpeWml5C_rtGE1faqpKkACh_A=s320" width="271" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“There has not ever been a time when I have been
lacking the material for a post. For the threads of humankind , always find their
way of weaving into my soul, their beautiful purpose.” ~ TL Alton <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In all of my posts, I always feel my daughter’s birthday, the
one where I take the time, to sort through quotes, pictures and memories
connected to the day Shayla was born. For this special day, when she arrived into
the world, saw precious moments unfold… over the next 21 years of her life. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3ePNniyKDfbeBSqpsELvv83PUK4_gpySpwvOdo-gjniW35cpHwByjXYq1FBOuV5NYkJrtljOYX0ZrMgSgrEB3Pc6vkm9mLLq6Cc-bwDK50fFOitd4atno5JISVJHmh4AV8_wQNi8D-FMyEapkXQNA8SCE4PFXUK42UQxc3o9vrBT4KeksS9USLzIFTw=s636" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="558" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3ePNniyKDfbeBSqpsELvv83PUK4_gpySpwvOdo-gjniW35cpHwByjXYq1FBOuV5NYkJrtljOYX0ZrMgSgrEB3Pc6vkm9mLLq6Cc-bwDK50fFOitd4atno5JISVJHmh4AV8_wQNi8D-FMyEapkXQNA8SCE4PFXUK42UQxc3o9vrBT4KeksS9USLzIFTw=s320" width="281" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">While everyday I miss her, the day Shayla Rae Dawn, came into
this world at 10 pounds, 10 ounces and 2 feet long, the heavens parted and she
was blessed with many things, I am sharing here. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiACpeIexLHH02cAQ3Qeg-JHPgc4SCD3has-IVJp18fwJnxkkC4sWHa4T6douBVibKVhbSpq6bwYOp6ReEJAgHl_XUq7i4sgPYSTK3JHD5gdCg4xOyUUzRFKviTsjzWsdHht-SdKwPsio_goYyK0slJW_yJBGGl9ReyqCkaH3Rr_mvrti5qjSGJOBePxQ=s3072" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="3072" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiACpeIexLHH02cAQ3Qeg-JHPgc4SCD3has-IVJp18fwJnxkkC4sWHa4T6douBVibKVhbSpq6bwYOp6ReEJAgHl_XUq7i4sgPYSTK3JHD5gdCg4xOyUUzRFKviTsjzWsdHht-SdKwPsio_goYyK0slJW_yJBGGl9ReyqCkaH3Rr_mvrti5qjSGJOBePxQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">The top image of Shayla, on my 2</span><sup style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">nd</sup><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> wedding day. She was such a beautiful F</span>lower girl<span style="font-size: 12pt;">. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When
I think back, I close my eyes and re-imagine it was her wedding day- to her one
true love - long before 2011.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Shayla’s namesake was something that connected her to the
world of the Fairies~ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the Irish Gaelic
version means <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“fairy palace.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJb74aKr2bzhKrWZTko2mYCbnkj1jvFSyZsHlRRhNgw41734Kx1A7jPYfr6HIb1-Hq_pKHChp3BAhOJ8J-944ztyJ1xa730ynPVE6bfNuZ9edzCMZ1dX6AFzEr-sclBIikASdslDu3oimKmaBo5zZrHsAwyC9LdQOMxvXyXjb6YrRFIvE23kh9MAHHXg=s713" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="713" data-original-width="570" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJb74aKr2bzhKrWZTko2mYCbnkj1jvFSyZsHlRRhNgw41734Kx1A7jPYfr6HIb1-Hq_pKHChp3BAhOJ8J-944ztyJ1xa730ynPVE6bfNuZ9edzCMZ1dX6AFzEr-sclBIikASdslDu3oimKmaBo5zZrHsAwyC9LdQOMxvXyXjb6YrRFIvE23kh9MAHHXg=s320" width="256" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">One of her favourite places to go to, was at a park that had a Fairy
forest. Many times we went there, whenever she came to visit.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Shayla also had a wonderful sense of humour. Whenever
something made her laugh, her face grew rosy, and a deep laughter grew from the
tip of her toes. If she posed, it was likely to be some funny expression or
doing something that would make others burst into laughter. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjcLANNlTJugCEd_oY6CVTLK01hJdL6umnU_2pMpxqyGOHT91nbOm1psDO_uzjYeAZwp49CGxz3QcIwB4hUXIoyADq0aQHLCbXdhHZKHnJ9tPkpHHbYJTb5L02BpAbKeCYRFB3iYpXcnxniSacLu_y0W3916HibfMRaADTfKzLr0M1NIuU6Ezodsit5w=s604" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="604" data-original-width="453" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjcLANNlTJugCEd_oY6CVTLK01hJdL6umnU_2pMpxqyGOHT91nbOm1psDO_uzjYeAZwp49CGxz3QcIwB4hUXIoyADq0aQHLCbXdhHZKHnJ9tPkpHHbYJTb5L02BpAbKeCYRFB3iYpXcnxniSacLu_y0W3916HibfMRaADTfKzLr0M1NIuU6Ezodsit5w=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wearing funny nose glasses at a bus stop, a bus pulled up and the driver was in stitches over Shayla's 'disguise.'</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijI4s8U5dbm_6wseAzLmL64wy7Nkk_RXgYyEaYGgOYd0YZfjOehIrgN5U5kVhwi9_763XS1sWNNbbntSZijdi-h-O6aSVGa66lkmluOOLJNaug_6gjUIiHsXWxX1jVRWT6vHzwFsdgMSNaYbZvj9lCAV5t4o2lip6AGeYLK_YU4dWoMcykKqVZk0Pqsw=s480" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijI4s8U5dbm_6wseAzLmL64wy7Nkk_RXgYyEaYGgOYd0YZfjOehIrgN5U5kVhwi9_763XS1sWNNbbntSZijdi-h-O6aSVGa66lkmluOOLJNaug_6gjUIiHsXWxX1jVRWT6vHzwFsdgMSNaYbZvj9lCAV5t4o2lip6AGeYLK_YU4dWoMcykKqVZk0Pqsw=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At a Nature Park, Shayla got stuck in the turtle shell. </td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">I have recalled and written about a note I found, after she passed away.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It was in reference to a dessert that I would make annually
for Thanksgiving or Christmas. I always assumed Shayla loved it, as she would often
ask for seconds. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In discovering her note, I realized the reality as she had written:
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Mom, remember that Bisquick pumpkin pie dessert
you made us for the holidays…well, I would go in the backyard and bury the
second helpings and I burned the recipe card so you wouldn’t make it again…so
Nah, I didn’t like it, but didn’t want to hurt your feelings. </span></i><span face=""Segoe UI Emoji",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Georgia; mso-char-type: symbol-ext; mso-hansi-font-family: Georgia; mso-symbol-font-family: "Segoe UI Emoji";">😊</span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The other passion in my daughter’s life…was dance! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Shayla spent seven years immersed in the world of dance and
between her laughter and silliness, the girl was born to dance! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It brought me much joy when she would have her performances
and I was able to see how she lit up the dance, with hip-hop, lyrical, jazz and
even ballet. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">While I have many DVD’s of her past recitals, I no longer have
the means to play them and right now, I would love to see my daughter ‘in
motion.’ <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">February 24<sup>th</sup>, would have been Shayla’s 32<sup>nd</sup>
birthday. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I miss seeing her blow out her candles, open her gifts and turn
to me with the biggest smile . <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">While I was gathering things for this post, I was reminded of “<span style="color: #ff0066;">Pink Shirt Day</span>.” The annual awareness for showing
support of those who have been bullied. Sadly, Shayla spent most of her years
at the torment of those who caused her to devote an entire black covered journal.
Reading her words of heartache, sorrow and anguish, I have a better, more painful
understanding of what she endured…and still smiled. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjX2LLajQCmiTzMuoH0GrZBsetmWQIRVz1DpFjPY_KRnjNLr0Y8io54U0N6JCNX89azdpyosFLYFqstU0lQaTOS_FQqNf-xllDhwjjuyLeEZsh9nsxJdMjx4c4ujTtdCIIEFg5LGcvfmlV_YxqHyEBg11J0iW0hJXmbkuST4BKQPbhimEygesxB5DJwTQ=s2814" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2814" data-original-width="2801" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjX2LLajQCmiTzMuoH0GrZBsetmWQIRVz1DpFjPY_KRnjNLr0Y8io54U0N6JCNX89azdpyosFLYFqstU0lQaTOS_FQqNf-xllDhwjjuyLeEZsh9nsxJdMjx4c4ujTtdCIIEFg5LGcvfmlV_YxqHyEBg11J0iW0hJXmbkuST4BKQPbhimEygesxB5DJwTQ=s320" width="319" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pink Shirt Day 2022 </td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">The other day, I found a display in a store that also reminded
me of my ‘pinky promise’ to my dearly missed daughter- the one linked to my
novel.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVYMtwauvW0pGQMbFYHIQzoTU_3whibLWUlvucUeOTnd_e3VhMs6AVAftruRim42Qc4UXPQYgk_0rsdehaWiN7MPKXOzvrT7iKoe4B12fmmb6q3cG1mlhK0UbkeSiTh780th8ATliN94qYutCeHExVePkilMmZgedvnbxFc1NWLVkQxnoPOkKgimCeGA=s3669" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3669" data-original-width="2951" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVYMtwauvW0pGQMbFYHIQzoTU_3whibLWUlvucUeOTnd_e3VhMs6AVAftruRim42Qc4UXPQYgk_0rsdehaWiN7MPKXOzvrT7iKoe4B12fmmb6q3cG1mlhK0UbkeSiTh780th8ATliN94qYutCeHExVePkilMmZgedvnbxFc1NWLVkQxnoPOkKgimCeGA=s320" width="257" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg2dq6vifwq6MU8NHXgVi-jGasqyl0lhgVHPPwy9xG9Z-B2jf0856VPC7_cL_SpFBTvDE0lvunmEY3NmSyvO2XV9P0dJMK8cOYdM0uJIl67yg0ESFLiVdvbM3Wddm0r7RgiA20b_bs2z_0t-C0Cj_-qH_s-EbQS4668WQ84FhHlmoJRKgLoMOBF1JpAww=s1334" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg2dq6vifwq6MU8NHXgVi-jGasqyl0lhgVHPPwy9xG9Z-B2jf0856VPC7_cL_SpFBTvDE0lvunmEY3NmSyvO2XV9P0dJMK8cOYdM0uJIl67yg0ESFLiVdvbM3Wddm0r7RgiA20b_bs2z_0t-C0Cj_-qH_s-EbQS4668WQ84FhHlmoJRKgLoMOBF1JpAww=s320" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I painted my own nails and thought about the perfect timing.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This past week, I read of another person’s passing, whose music,
smile and lovely persona, was an inspiration to the world. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Her name was Jane Marczewski. She was a free-spirit, a talented
singer and a beautiful soul who died at 31, from breast cancer. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgesRIKXLUTKvAq_rFuNiqGhWs8je0JbVxn5eHgtHSwDvA8kXZHRsQ2Uz0CtCbCJbfx9gQ15dONoUrDhuIbxwJDSFXjFPdxzUDQ3iZXxhBJEWiA6KeosJ4PBlK-8nSwGNRCvzZH0dgVVFqutzNMhzpXP0KfJvG8Quys8C2Wsr08gpDm2b3nW7g2B9PLeA=s350" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="284" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgesRIKXLUTKvAq_rFuNiqGhWs8je0JbVxn5eHgtHSwDvA8kXZHRsQ2Uz0CtCbCJbfx9gQ15dONoUrDhuIbxwJDSFXjFPdxzUDQ3iZXxhBJEWiA6KeosJ4PBlK-8nSwGNRCvzZH0dgVVFqutzNMhzpXP0KfJvG8Quys8C2Wsr08gpDm2b3nW7g2B9PLeA=s320" width="260" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nightbirde</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Gracing the stage of America’s Got Talent, people’s lives were
deeply touched by her heartfelt journey, as she battled her cancer while still
writing and preforming songs, with the name Nightbirde.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Her spiritual relationship, was something I also connected
with. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_FxDrBCPJrsilgij8329pOGN36rjmtEv4XSlTQs0qdt4umVRwQAfMvFZgAfJDkhsohvyWIghouz7pLzaCMdaLcSLzodPv99x8qsGSAVYl-aqRKxzbkQYTsBylGVwa6r29HUGdYCiPwF7t-LY36dG7JgKijBIWBtGeG_nkCwxAKTrWIfzkhNLVXAQwXQ=s1594" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1594" data-original-width="1071" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_FxDrBCPJrsilgij8329pOGN36rjmtEv4XSlTQs0qdt4umVRwQAfMvFZgAfJDkhsohvyWIghouz7pLzaCMdaLcSLzodPv99x8qsGSAVYl-aqRKxzbkQYTsBylGVwa6r29HUGdYCiPwF7t-LY36dG7JgKijBIWBtGeG_nkCwxAKTrWIfzkhNLVXAQwXQ=w269-h400" width="269" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source: Instagram</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Nightbirde wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and she had such a magnificent
shine that saw her glow.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipUP5zknTHUiRcQUVGdNYa08FAp_hBQ9BoNlIHxzNehl66K2Sl73Lx3UxW1amUhIOtaSQ40k9_UCvJ-3hIaEnDiiB3iKz3eYr3fSHBiPjqs46HyvRSFbh_19h8n1tPRZXrQQ6W53FkJ3pDyEC-Q21pVWXLyUf6pCpWqSGjUxktWV0FwR_SbYB5qbFZbQ=s1070" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1070" data-original-width="1063" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipUP5zknTHUiRcQUVGdNYa08FAp_hBQ9BoNlIHxzNehl66K2Sl73Lx3UxW1amUhIOtaSQ40k9_UCvJ-3hIaEnDiiB3iKz3eYr3fSHBiPjqs46HyvRSFbh_19h8n1tPRZXrQQ6W53FkJ3pDyEC-Q21pVWXLyUf6pCpWqSGjUxktWV0FwR_SbYB5qbFZbQ=s320" width="318" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In sharing the song she penned, “It’s Okay,” I feel as if she had
met my heart full of love.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Golden Buzzer: Nightbirde's Original Song Makes Simon Cowell
Emotional - America's Got Talent 2021<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://youtu.be/CZJvBfoHDk0">https://youtu.be/CZJvBfoHDk0</a><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Tomorrow, I have special plans. Turns out the temporary
shelter I am at, is having their annual inspection. I need to be gone from
10am- 5pm. I have thought about where it is I will go or what I should do?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Then some place which holds special memories. While its not a
place of fairies ( I don’t think so), it has wonderful qualities of another
place, where (Tonya) mother and daughter,(Shayla) use to stroll. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Every year, since Shayla passed, I have still bought a birthday card- one that I would have given her. I fill it with my personal sentiments, then place it at amazing locations throughout our world. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJXJU-npRQaIn591ma5FxI6DS3fmSKhTY6TpUj134aDUS9JyRHpdz36I9mFI-E-jNesxFkG7ioJEiVgtHsKao2M1Oj4x8LUSJ5Xz8Hmh1Xkxr3YaXaw25Wjjo1RLCcQRErLS_fFUKya4M8yZYQM5DHJN_S0b2Crc6kf7hDZAfREo-J5M5EKfK6XICc-Q=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJXJU-npRQaIn591ma5FxI6DS3fmSKhTY6TpUj134aDUS9JyRHpdz36I9mFI-E-jNesxFkG7ioJEiVgtHsKao2M1Oj4x8LUSJ5Xz8Hmh1Xkxr3YaXaw25Wjjo1RLCcQRErLS_fFUKya4M8yZYQM5DHJN_S0b2Crc6kf7hDZAfREo-J5M5EKfK6XICc-Q=s320" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A kind of release that helps a little... on a rather emotional day. </span></p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">This February 24th will be no different. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Although it will be a quiet day- without the celebration of 32
years- I can look back and treasure what we were able to share… in such a short
amount of time. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I think back to years ago when I was in Maui. I was brought to
the perfect location, in the Pacific ocean, to spread my daughter’s ashes.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Tomorrow, I will reconnect with another special spot, where
memories have been made. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The one where I told my daughter, she would always have my
heart as her mother. As I kneel by the water’s edge, I will close my eyes. Once
again, I will imagine Nightbirde’s angelic voice singing <i>It’s Okay,</i>
while Shayla’s performing, a lyrical dance and I will think of those within our
family , who have passed away- aunties, uncles, mothers and fathers, grandparents, friends and also my
nephew, Matthew. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Everyone will be shining their beautiful smiles, as Matt's stardust, along with theirs, is cast across the heavens…for ALL to see </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">them dancing ... among the stars. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj47Zvt95F0b9tKKwffRQoF6s6MGdOeX1IdkYT0ym9qJVOZ-DR5QxQiNGIg9IDLV6NeYLd1QqftpaUsEPevyTe27x-9Y13UFAZGgCpZcIkNFWwEmOLDWxjswPyje7wY-2k9Sz291DcewaWYQyevpmXJp74c92uqmbYjixqsONbvJ3aoTAR12zWDce4pEA=s1104" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1104" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj47Zvt95F0b9tKKwffRQoF6s6MGdOeX1IdkYT0ym9qJVOZ-DR5QxQiNGIg9IDLV6NeYLd1QqftpaUsEPevyTe27x-9Y13UFAZGgCpZcIkNFWwEmOLDWxjswPyje7wY-2k9Sz291DcewaWYQyevpmXJp74c92uqmbYjixqsONbvJ3aoTAR12zWDce4pEA=s320" width="213" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">By TL Alton <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-10035479080252235602022-02-20T18:14:00.008-08:002022-02-20T19:00:25.777-08:00CYCLES <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJdyY1U_ezNIsr9eyD6xsD469mEarc5rEEZSPNg4iACgzwoDP5Tdl9kEHIqq775gFeD6k1HhDHsJut8SQJybD4fD3rSbAZeC5nScENCA9hyGdu7ut54WxL2a0mW4qIiGUGXMmzMcUvmooh2n2QCqXwMfOD4rqyvKGkQ0-LCZlYCKiGEIsi7SFA0aW1rA=s709" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="677" data-original-width="709" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJdyY1U_ezNIsr9eyD6xsD469mEarc5rEEZSPNg4iACgzwoDP5Tdl9kEHIqq775gFeD6k1HhDHsJut8SQJybD4fD3rSbAZeC5nScENCA9hyGdu7ut54WxL2a0mW4qIiGUGXMmzMcUvmooh2n2QCqXwMfOD4rqyvKGkQ0-LCZlYCKiGEIsi7SFA0aW1rA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Last week, I had an experience so profound that it settled
within my soul, to remind me that the humans are capable of malice, yet most of
all… </span><b style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: red;">Compassion</span></b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In the last post I wrote and openly shared about my Post
Traumatic Stress Disorder. An illness I acquired after the death of my 21 year
old daughter, Shayla. I have explained how any amount of pressure added onto my
daily life, can cause me to break into fragments- where my kryptonite is
stress. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">However dark the pain and sorrow was presented, I
found God met me at the crossroads of my suffering, time and time again, to
untie me from the railroad tracks, I had bound myself too.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In the year I spent, travelling with others and speaking to
various people: teachers, students, LPN’s,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>and Human Service Workers, about my two disorders (Bipolar and PTSD), my
own symptoms were alleviated. The courage it took, for the group of us to stand
before rooms and often gymnasiums of strangers, to lay before them our darkness…
we often tend to forget. This is due to the anxiety and depression, wanting to
keep us locked-in the hidden rooms- of our own minds. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBSXJ4MfXNBtVVx3ssf885iUWBRVFIwBsTvq03BmgwROWanBPjNxTxVVTlp-86Su1Aaw5opwL2qmznR3yL0k7SEeAKoC6hBWgTx3MeUoCh7as_hRgz6dE_-tjdLhjxFkrwR_U8Kv6mdXhtHnfUbkhepIv2J3JTO5VvzowaUNyuyO2ilHw9T9rsXZmrFA=s283" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="283" data-original-width="236" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBSXJ4MfXNBtVVx3ssf885iUWBRVFIwBsTvq03BmgwROWanBPjNxTxVVTlp-86Su1Aaw5opwL2qmznR3yL0k7SEeAKoC6hBWgTx3MeUoCh7as_hRgz6dE_-tjdLhjxFkrwR_U8Kv6mdXhtHnfUbkhepIv2J3JTO5VvzowaUNyuyO2ilHw9T9rsXZmrFA=w267-h320" width="267" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Yet, there was a strength within each one of us. That saw
each individual, remove from their travelling suitcases, ‘the dirty laundry
from their lives.’</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A dear friend of mine shared this video with me, which speaks
more about this…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">– <i>The Soul is like a suitcase,</i> Dr. Rob Reimer <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">SOUL CARE:<a href=" https://youtu.be/UybtzshH0Bg"> https://youtu.be/UybtzshH0Bg</a></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwHi3QkEEbDFNdETqsNxXLxEHPndGQ4G6H3VFpInhI2EUEB2EKIHLpHX4REpJov3VP1G7-8OkQDwY-DmZ0y71StdDF2mcyDPd-jzxFNZD_E91mXvJdlMXCkXxgAgVkabbPqqW31Z8keQD0Yfn7SACjDs8ngoSpyh9oKC0wmiPghT82lxzGbGrPgQqp2w=s720" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="576" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwHi3QkEEbDFNdETqsNxXLxEHPndGQ4G6H3VFpInhI2EUEB2EKIHLpHX4REpJov3VP1G7-8OkQDwY-DmZ0y71StdDF2mcyDPd-jzxFNZD_E91mXvJdlMXCkXxgAgVkabbPqqW31Z8keQD0Yfn7SACjDs8ngoSpyh9oKC0wmiPghT82lxzGbGrPgQqp2w=w320-h400" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Sometimes though, even with my best intentions, I find myself
in a place of darkness that triggers my PTSD, in such a menacing way- it
literally takes days for me to ‘recover.’</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In relaying the following incident, which took place, I am
not mentioning certain aspects- as I do not want to give any attention to the
company/employees that were involved with my vehicle.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Last week, I dropped into Staples for photocopying. I parked
my car, in front of a sign that I thought said: </span></span><b style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">30 minute Parking. </b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">While I take full </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">responsibility</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">, I mistakenly thought the sign meant 30 Minute parking, for all vehicles. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Once inside and copying, an older man walked up to the
counter and started to yell at the two ladies working! He started to berate
them, saying they weren't working fast enough, where was his order etc.?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I felt sorry for the employees as this man berated them! Not
wanting a confrontation, as soon as he walked away out of the store, I promptly
went and spoke with the two staff members. They were shaken and I shared how
they did not deserve to be yelled and treated like the way he did. I said they
were valued and deserve to be respected! I also shared how much I valued them
being there! They appreciated my words. I paid and only after 15 minutes of
bring in the store, I paid and left the store. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Upon leaving the store, it was then I discovered my car was
gone! My first thought, was my vehicle had been stolen! Turns out, I mistakenly
parked in front of a Residential area and my car had been towed away by a local
company!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">I broke down in tears and a man, who had been behind me in
the store line approached and asked if he could help?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The stress of the situation triggered my PTSD and I thought I
was having a heart attack! All the meanwhile, the man offered his assistance. I
explained I have Bipolar, PTSD and a device on my heart. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">After I was able to catch my breath, he offered to take me to
get my car, which was a few blocks away. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I have decided to keep this man’s first name he provided
anonymous. He is a married man, father of one, who stepped into a stressful
situation, when I was in crisis. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He suggested I call the towing company, for directions, to pick up my car. I am NOT mentioning the name of the towing company I had direct interaction with. My post explains why. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I was told my vehicle would cost $XXX.XX amount of dollars to
get it out of the compound! </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Also, if it stayed impounded, it would cost me
another $XXX.XX to pay daily for it! Suddenly, it dawned on me that all of my
monthly medications- I had picked up earlier for my heart, Stroke and disorders - were in
the back of my car! Deep inside, I was worried about the GORE device I have on my heart and how all of the stress was affecting me. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8lTIC4XBUroVRafRlC9ghPVPbwwSbiY9PCAdJr_Vw9cuYRxriRF58BMcpbyRBDaODL2ELo-vWJRhsckTSWgRUqK42VGkt2MPSCy1zf52IcOovgm9t0P3QbrraPyX-iLJHCrv0JWB1eCAHN0k15_T6TVAK1Y7eAuh1PAQDB1yDGEMY2kRhxcsy9SNX3A=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8lTIC4XBUroVRafRlC9ghPVPbwwSbiY9PCAdJr_Vw9cuYRxriRF58BMcpbyRBDaODL2ELo-vWJRhsckTSWgRUqK42VGkt2MPSCy1zf52IcOovgm9t0P3QbrraPyX-iLJHCrv0JWB1eCAHN0k15_T6TVAK1Y7eAuh1PAQDB1yDGEMY2kRhxcsy9SNX3A=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of four packages of my medications in my blister packs I take for my heart and other illnesses, that were in the back of my towed vehicle! This is the backside, which contains my daily prescriptions. </td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">The company itself was horrible to deal with and before
anyone lays judgment on all tow truck people, I have a side note to add to this,
towards the end… after I share what took place at this one.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As I sat, a passenger in a strangers vehicle, I was in tears
again, as I explained to the man that I did not have any money to pay for my car.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He was calm and reassuring.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Once at the towing company, I shared how this man- who I did
not know- was willing to help me out by driving me there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though, I was letting them know that a
stranger was showing me kindness, they proceeded to treat me terribly! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I had to step out in tears and when this man came out of the
office, he looked at me, with receipt in hand and said: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">"Your bills been paid in full!" <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I was in shock and stood there. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I stammered out, "Thank You So Much!" <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I shared my website with him, as a means of seeing who he
helped out and asked inside for a copy of the receipt- but due to privacy
reasons I couldn't get it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We said our goodbyes and I gave thanks for an angel to be
sent to me, in my time of need. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Once the bill was sorted and after getting paid, this towing
company was still horrible and rude to me!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In order to pick up my vehicle, they asked for my driver’s
licence. I was filled with anxiety, as these were three, unprofessional employees, badgering
me. I did not want to hand my ID over, yet I had to.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">I then went to locate my car….the one that has the lettering
I put on the back of my window:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Nova Scotia Strong</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">, for those
who were killed in massive gun violence. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The car that has a large Indigenous sticker that says: <b><i>Every
Child Matters </i></b>in support of <b><i>Orange Shirt day</i></b>…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">and the vehicle that displays a magnet for my book I wrote- a
promise to my late daughter Shayla; covering topics of racism, domestic/child
abuse, inequality and faith. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">If ever a car was a beacon of light; my little red is it! <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4lVQzOptjtOKetqnCJ5tKBG04PHe29Q8PywsYkcj2Mn3-PW0ly7YZhQMy6y18fwul3ZxnLfi-KnDykAnyptMhClzua-RuPKk9CD5uNyGWKCcM7DeXvvo9pB2twEl3h71FnBpgCWAi_T4pJTwHJ9n2Dg_pgtDyOp7ZBVyr1SioSJ3H_tHEgN0vIHo6bw=s1200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4lVQzOptjtOKetqnCJ5tKBG04PHe29Q8PywsYkcj2Mn3-PW0ly7YZhQMy6y18fwul3ZxnLfi-KnDykAnyptMhClzua-RuPKk9CD5uNyGWKCcM7DeXvvo9pB2twEl3h71FnBpgCWAi_T4pJTwHJ9n2Dg_pgtDyOp7ZBVyr1SioSJ3H_tHEgN0vIHo6bw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Once back inside my vehicle and in clear view of the three
employees standing there- seething that I was reclaiming my car, I folded my
hands in prayers. I gave thanks to the Creator for shining grace and favour
upon me, I prayed for the man that had restored my faith in humanity by paying
my large bill, and as I went to offer three single prayers…I saw them press a
button that saw the compound gate close on me. Despite being paid, in view of
my praying, they stood with menacing smiles, as I rushed to start my car and
drive safely away!</span></p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">In sharing (I've included a picture of the sign, but not the
company). I also wrote a review of </span><b style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Staples</i> </b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">in North Vancouver</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">,
asking people not to park in front of this area, or they will be towed)! If
even one person reads my review of Staples and does not park in the wrong area-
avoiding their vehicle being hauled away- then I feel I have paid back the
stranger.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Later that night, I suppressed the urge to write a not so favourable
review of this towing company. This is despite the fact that I have been a
Google Reviewer for ten years. I prayed and realized I could do more good, by
simply posting under Staples, not to park here or you will be towed away! I
receive updates on the amount of views and my review has been seen over a 100
times! I give full credit to God, as he prompted me to not lash out in anger,
but to help others avoid such a painful and costly lesson! For not everyone,
will have a stranger, willing to step in.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The next thing I did that night, was to research and read the reviews of other towing companies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I was elated to find a local, tow truck company, which has a
compassionate heart and who after speaking with <b>Steve</b> the owner of<b> <i>Big Man Towing</i></b>, I would highly recommend over the others! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><b style="font-style: italic;">Big Man
Towing</b> is<b style="font-style: italic;"> </b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Not at ALL</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"> associated with the other towing company- who actually towed and impounded my vehicle!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Right away, as Steve and I spoke, he was kind and empathetic, to my other negative
towing experience. Steve is also a family man and was understanding of what
took place. The more we talked, I began to see clearly that this is a man whose
positive reviews, reflects on the company he operates, with knowledge,
professionalism and dignity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In our conversation, we talked about health, as my own
wellness had been greatly affected. Steve did not know that only recently, a
relative had passed away. I also shared how my own life has been impacted by cancer, in the death of my
father. He died from the disease, at the young age of 41.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I appreciated Steve's time and consideration, in speaking with me. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">A few days later, t</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">he after effects of what happened with the actual company who towed my car and impounded it, would see my disorders be triggered and ‘take me down’ for days.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Despite all of this, on the weekend, I wrote in my journal the following…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“You may take my car, you may take a stranger’s
money, but as I sat in your compound, tears flowing, heart racing, while you
pushed the button on your gate to force me to leave…the ONE thing you could not
take from me, was my hands folded in prayers, for Each of YOU!”<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">I decided to also include Steve’s company, </span><b style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">Big Man Towing</b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">,
as a way to pray it forward. To share he has a reputable and wonderful towing company, while also understanding the stress the can occur in these kind of situations. </span><div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">To continue on the thread of positivity;
instead of feeding the hounds of negativity via social media. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I didn't want to be happy for someone paying my bill and that was it. I felt compelled to react in the way that I know would bring release, to a difficult situation and free me from the grips of the enemy.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I easily could
have written an awful review and yet I wanted to pour light over the darkness
and shed the beauty that while certain destructive things can come in
‘cycles’…so can <b><span style="color: red;">Compassion.</span></b><span style="color: red;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;">“Usually we are judged by what we do…but I find what we don’t do…is what haunts us.”</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 17.12px;">-Last Measure</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBIHlMWhQ0TSkIX7SNxd1y2Vy-DaI9GGi0tUhWycnqNEmKj7z0A1JzAMSS_mEw6datN8ILn6JdbUuSyZcnwL1X4A6sbUr4nI99aD8sFEF6_MC9hcYMEJkFe9igy8CKBsUg5xS9_YEBz-o68xJbS9GCo8OjLSBoJc5qO1QoO-Ah352KwszCK3O3xYKD6g=s880" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="880" data-original-width="672" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBIHlMWhQ0TSkIX7SNxd1y2Vy-DaI9GGi0tUhWycnqNEmKj7z0A1JzAMSS_mEw6datN8ILn6JdbUuSyZcnwL1X4A6sbUr4nI99aD8sFEF6_MC9hcYMEJkFe9igy8CKBsUg5xS9_YEBz-o68xJbS9GCo8OjLSBoJc5qO1QoO-Ah352KwszCK3O3xYKD6g=s320" width="244" /></a></b></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My sincerest thank you to the stranger who stepped in, when I
felt my world turned upside down!</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I am grateful for Steve’s valued time in speaking with me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There is much appreciation for a dear friend of mine, who sent
me the following video… this speaks to my tender heart and reflects on the
cycles in my own life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Watch "Jonathan McReynolds ft. DOE - Cycles
Lyrics (Lyric Video)" on YouTube<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://youtu.be/6o2zd8VDHN0">https://youtu.be/6o2zd8VDHN0</a><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">By T.L. Alton <o:p></o:p></span></p></div>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0Vancouver, BC, Canada49.2827291 -123.120737520.972495263821152 -158.27698750000002 77.59296293617885 -87.9644875tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-8108427102558339482022-02-11T16:58:00.000-08:002022-02-11T16:58:38.119-08:00Walking my SOUL back to where the Love lives… inside of me <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8t5oslb2hnXZ4eu4HheJYnZp3A_MqRw5xv3xuTGH7xjxUC77ibqsiCBhsq4iOVOPQANjJgCLiaqWPp2thOQDgOTxjTUnHn7_pQlYtkg6mm3QlR2laPJDAr1B7EUHxsEbA3XSKlTsvohM3RfdmErqqfz3b53x5SM2yPXV52LqRWEE2R98LXaD3fvnUEA=s736" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="308" data-original-width="736" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8t5oslb2hnXZ4eu4HheJYnZp3A_MqRw5xv3xuTGH7xjxUC77ibqsiCBhsq4iOVOPQANjJgCLiaqWPp2thOQDgOTxjTUnHn7_pQlYtkg6mm3QlR2laPJDAr1B7EUHxsEbA3XSKlTsvohM3RfdmErqqfz3b53x5SM2yPXV52LqRWEE2R98LXaD3fvnUEA=w400-h168" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You Cannot change your past, but you can change
your perspective.” ~ Last Measure <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I began this post, prior to a beloved relative passing away. I
decided it was then best to set aside my pen and allow their death to settle
within the open crevices of my heart.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In doing so, the depression I was already masked in, gave way
to my building anxiety and my PTSD was triggered. I thought I was doing myself
and everyone a favour by retreating from social media and delaying this post.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The truth is: <b><i>Nothing will stay hidden forever- as the
truth always comes out.</i></b> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqIleBD9pyJGnAr_osieFxu36gle8ckzarCcLzTUUN8-Ix-DzAFPdgVEiqG8BKm8ISrEDt8gHrNpA6ftLKNi_JqM2N15xzTCGnkaVGi9Z3GmVQP4O-5yYNv1X_IbMaMdJdSGrEY78Teu-HFjprWn2Ms8UEGBbqvABPDnKOSIIdu8XoRwC5r25Uq3zFAg=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqIleBD9pyJGnAr_osieFxu36gle8ckzarCcLzTUUN8-Ix-DzAFPdgVEiqG8BKm8ISrEDt8gHrNpA6ftLKNi_JqM2N15xzTCGnkaVGi9Z3GmVQP4O-5yYNv1X_IbMaMdJdSGrEY78Teu-HFjprWn2Ms8UEGBbqvABPDnKOSIIdu8XoRwC5r25Uq3zFAg=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></b></div><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><b>Poem from Canadian Poet Rupi Kaur ~ Homebody </b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">So instead of dancing around my emotions, I chose to release
them. Turns out, that happened to be in the midst of a laundromat, while I
pulled my clothes out of a dryer. I found myself weeping in a mound of towels.
Knowing I had stepped on the tripwire of my grieving emotions, I did my best to
gather my things and take off to the city streets. Once in my car, I felt a
panic attack ensuing and </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">had to remember
my breathing techniques from prior therapy. </span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For death is to me what darkness is to light- a suffocating
shadow that threatens to overcome. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In amongst the sudden losses of valued life, there are the
unexpected tragedies that I have come into my life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Having to explain the connection between the three that
intertwine one another- death- PTSD- grief is like giving a painful testimony,
in front of a packed courtroom. This I would know from my past experiences. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHoQ4ZeV1dYX19erlFoNKdP5d43GRTzYDIBX7wZXdDSZByrXMkLETwiHnV1HSAQPYWFmUo5iVAa5q8n6eEm250MtWPHwU66qSYFf020CBggcplGj5rn5UGvLkkh1glseZv3qPXyNUDi00brXSIFsGHGDgZUEcuflOp3izvhYjltRWZGxOeZ5tqNuWXmQ=s718" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="718" data-original-width="492" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHoQ4ZeV1dYX19erlFoNKdP5d43GRTzYDIBX7wZXdDSZByrXMkLETwiHnV1HSAQPYWFmUo5iVAa5q8n6eEm250MtWPHwU66qSYFf020CBggcplGj5rn5UGvLkkh1glseZv3qPXyNUDi00brXSIFsGHGDgZUEcuflOp3izvhYjltRWZGxOeZ5tqNuWXmQ=w274-h400" width="274" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Yet, I am also a believer of the light that can overcome the
darkness and rise above all things nefarious.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For each of us, we respond to loss in our own individual ways
that helps us to process the grief and heartache. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One of the most inspiring stories of a man, a true survivor of
war and torture, was Louis Zamperini. His story of loss, courage, PTSD and
redemption were featured in a two separate books by Laura Hillenbrand, Louis
Zamperini and David Renin. Also, the films Unbroken and Unbroken: Path to
Redemption. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhV4cI_NZVhoKxLORWewlFgmhBBhpDgfrQuBk7UFJ4Ol6495dcAmqHASo8-3Gsn9g7Zkx9B6RKCCCvoDQZURxMAryr10UETkveTHAVp8-6KBNLcP8ZrPN5Z5MjSsYVb0z6xeCNQGXvE9xW8VO23kqEc9ixSDc-BkHXmRDed_gQb97GDx2ZOlPsLTJzrSQ=s562" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="562" data-original-width="380" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhV4cI_NZVhoKxLORWewlFgmhBBhpDgfrQuBk7UFJ4Ol6495dcAmqHASo8-3Gsn9g7Zkx9B6RKCCCvoDQZURxMAryr10UETkveTHAVp8-6KBNLcP8ZrPN5Z5MjSsYVb0z6xeCNQGXvE9xW8VO23kqEc9ixSDc-BkHXmRDed_gQb97GDx2ZOlPsLTJzrSQ=w270-h400" width="270" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">One film captured his resilience, the other featured his
resistance, in dealing with his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0HeK19JXvU32vKysHlh5o529AdnDhKftSnPxpxmwY41ZPKvfKRCi5kiYgdZoJhoTMYsJGfClS-7QlXwGY_Nl8DsNmfDLwsgnbIrBPhBCNMEbh9wo2_gg2Ud_tf3gHAS3wR-j8U5BSP8qjOtTlWVVBkYgtAKH6VZINe-iAmko31S7jSfZqsgjnJH-SYg=s540" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0HeK19JXvU32vKysHlh5o529AdnDhKftSnPxpxmwY41ZPKvfKRCi5kiYgdZoJhoTMYsJGfClS-7QlXwGY_Nl8DsNmfDLwsgnbIrBPhBCNMEbh9wo2_gg2Ud_tf3gHAS3wR-j8U5BSP8qjOtTlWVVBkYgtAKH6VZINe-iAmko31S7jSfZqsgjnJH-SYg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>The one thing we have in common; is going to war within the
borders of our minds.</span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The recent passing of a beloved relative, was coupled with my
PTSD. Prior to their death, I had been dealing with Night Terrors- a common
symptom of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Night terrors are vivid nightmares, re-living traumatic
experiences, which seem too real to believe, they are not. What follows in me,
is a feeling of being ‘trapped in the moment,’ profuse sweating and extreme
anxiety. I wake up struggling to breathe and re-focus on my surroundings. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I also awaken to feel I am living the night terror in real
life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This causes me to have a hypersensitivity to death and all
aspects of loss, including intrusive thoughts and flashbacks. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Acknowledging it to myself is one thing…to openly take hold of
the truth and share with the world is another. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yet, if anything I’ve learned in the 11 years since being
diagnosed with PTSD, is that there is Hope even among the darkest of nights. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Around 50- 60 % of people in North America will
experience severe trauma, at some time in their lives. One in 10 goes on to
develop post- traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), which is permanent in a third
of the cases. Yet some people who have lived through major traumatic events,
display an astonishing capacity to recover.” <o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNw2zf1BZnUsVsrpaT9rA8yKAK5_n6q8GIhjBGKJEXZRq3zRwfhK1TnCTuKzv5XBxHM3nO84_YA-FOy-tb3TurqrHxW092u5pdOPDkkXJF4huYaklMB-bwnnYfv2Q3wsisItvTCKuend25uPPLFrcx5Skbno5vf-KnOkcDoOkxCwcyoSvVYJYpHbYt-w=s736" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="736" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNw2zf1BZnUsVsrpaT9rA8yKAK5_n6q8GIhjBGKJEXZRq3zRwfhK1TnCTuKzv5XBxHM3nO84_YA-FOy-tb3TurqrHxW092u5pdOPDkkXJF4huYaklMB-bwnnYfv2Q3wsisItvTCKuend25uPPLFrcx5Skbno5vf-KnOkcDoOkxCwcyoSvVYJYpHbYt-w=s320" width="320" /></a></b></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">This is where the light switch goes on. I am understanding
that I need to be aware of what is happening in my surroundings. I also
recently learned the hard way that in the midst of going through my bout of
PTSD, I answered the phone to a dear friend of mine. Her voice, to me is, is
full of reassurance and I was desperate to speak to her. Unfortunately, she was
unprepared for my endless flow of tears, my pain and what I was enduring. To be
fair, she called on the worst night of my mourning.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In wanting to impart some light, I had recently sent her some
tea and a book of mine, which seemed ripped from the pages of my own tumultuous
life.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0EtShRQsavDFzp3XRTNWUP7ry4oyRaXQi5m2G3BuQhwQeKucOeu1KSmojiIrB53fx2iDhdaq61i2HxbRdfYlJZ9_b9ASn26xN6HEW60DP8dSaoSXkLtlwYTZukOsTpkmH4YUsntZdoMZWymgfarS0JCSHq5SRBbRT1GD2wLBd8cwew1IOE40rlCZfnA=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0EtShRQsavDFzp3XRTNWUP7ry4oyRaXQi5m2G3BuQhwQeKucOeu1KSmojiIrB53fx2iDhdaq61i2HxbRdfYlJZ9_b9ASn26xN6HEW60DP8dSaoSXkLtlwYTZukOsTpkmH4YUsntZdoMZWymgfarS0JCSHq5SRBbRT1GD2wLBd8cwew1IOE40rlCZfnA=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><b><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">For every word spoken in truth and opted for
release, I sought to free myself from the darkness that I had made myself a prisoner
of.</span></i></b></p></span></i></b><p></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In having Bipolar and PTSD, I never claim it as my own-
instead I share I have these illnesses- but I am <i>not</i> these disorders. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKIPXek60VikIhMvA6Kiw1wYQZ1d_EwL0GC3GVB5cBbSyYYE2arZxcE0Ra8atdMIV11iBm5HdSGQ25Df3NsmP_yAoV6emqiQjqOt1f28S_t7F301pLn0lOaueuLywaGBMZoqxL78KHe7i37YAbctns0w4jWS1AhLxfYY0glO9EvMybVzJdwYmQUgSxOg=s888" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="888" data-original-width="550" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKIPXek60VikIhMvA6Kiw1wYQZ1d_EwL0GC3GVB5cBbSyYYE2arZxcE0Ra8atdMIV11iBm5HdSGQ25Df3NsmP_yAoV6emqiQjqOt1f28S_t7F301pLn0lOaueuLywaGBMZoqxL78KHe7i37YAbctns0w4jWS1AhLxfYY0glO9EvMybVzJdwYmQUgSxOg=w248-h400" width="248" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">For me to walk into the light and share that I am seeking
Counselling again, does not make me weak…it means there is still a huge part of
me, which feels I am deserving of loving myself.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">If anything in the reactive mode I am in, I am stepping up to
acknowledge my hypervigilance, to speak up instead of shutting down and to
breathe in the hope and light that comes with seeking help…that can save a life…my
very own.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzLlehfnT2kltMbRab5i7Yv1VASIhweoTaPU-yhwkzkRHurfMU-mJnqyFAdHYZS_FbujDgY1NUb2IAk8aCE8o7pFxaPwKsE8IpWhwneI5XEWGXCgCfZzTPFb87WBBWOjg7zSXyMDJchOrmEvhgICkyCjtPUJURpJBXNFv4XCqJ99CoqGEQq1gFL4MtFw=s1308" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1308" data-original-width="736" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzLlehfnT2kltMbRab5i7Yv1VASIhweoTaPU-yhwkzkRHurfMU-mJnqyFAdHYZS_FbujDgY1NUb2IAk8aCE8o7pFxaPwKsE8IpWhwneI5XEWGXCgCfZzTPFb87WBBWOjg7zSXyMDJchOrmEvhgICkyCjtPUJURpJBXNFv4XCqJ99CoqGEQq1gFL4MtFw=w360-h640" width="360" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By TL Alton <o:p></o:p></span></p>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0Vancouver, BC, Canada49.2827291 -123.120737520.972495263821152 -158.27698750000002 77.59296293617885 -87.9644875tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-5225748749782038532022-01-16T21:42:00.000-08:002022-01-16T21:42:12.104-08:00Women of Courage, Strength and Purpose <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKd1MWHUF-QMx0YhZuRMlDKqozGLkVfUhOrgBKPkT4MYxDN6CMYbgTkkatuaRUWycoQ0OvMHS-olJphanZvPf-9090lBD0Ipp5eNX3DbwDYOOwMxTgqpslo13pUS5VmE-kOmM5Jb0NZmzEIT5MfggesTThlDKKG1nZXux_Fc9ao68ja50VUrQVTdkPhg=s775" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="775" data-original-width="570" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKd1MWHUF-QMx0YhZuRMlDKqozGLkVfUhOrgBKPkT4MYxDN6CMYbgTkkatuaRUWycoQ0OvMHS-olJphanZvPf-9090lBD0Ipp5eNX3DbwDYOOwMxTgqpslo13pUS5VmE-kOmM5Jb0NZmzEIT5MfggesTThlDKKG1nZXux_Fc9ao68ja50VUrQVTdkPhg=s320" width="235" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This past month, I’ve been given many reasons to reflect and
be grateful for those who either helped me along the path of life, or came
alongside me, in their continual support of friendship and prayers. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I also want to thank those within my own family, who reached
out and helped me along the way. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">God bless the broken road…for some it is a difficult one. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYHHsnnsDYTqjVhy19fXB8u4-vXun3elebVx77x4RznKi6tT5ZHZRlC5GAbFGDStIKDN0D_CIUr4iWGZ5yD2LYA0NxEAcD0TFG0fce37Rcf--G2v_r5CPJgsb_spk8yZJNosSVljudvyhM2H8NMIu88lx5fQdb5UiDTOr4G-DwRPj27jDZ9w-neFfflg=s736" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="733" data-original-width="736" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYHHsnnsDYTqjVhy19fXB8u4-vXun3elebVx77x4RznKi6tT5ZHZRlC5GAbFGDStIKDN0D_CIUr4iWGZ5yD2LYA0NxEAcD0TFG0fce37Rcf--G2v_r5CPJgsb_spk8yZJNosSVljudvyhM2H8NMIu88lx5fQdb5UiDTOr4G-DwRPj27jDZ9w-neFfflg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I was inspired to write about some of the incredibly strong
and unwavering spirits- an array of women who embody the true meaning of
<b><span style="color: red;">Resilience.</span></b></span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This blog I dedicate to All Mamie’s in this world, who have
suffered and sacrificed in ways- unimaginable. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In December, I received a most beautiful, heartfelt email
from a young lady in Kamloops. I had made contact with the two sisters, who I
heard of through media and <b><i>The Kamloops Shoebox Project. </i></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The local chapter is headed by sisters Marisa and
Taylor Bertoli – who hope the boxes can lift the spirits of women who might be
going through a difficult time, or have been impacted by homelessness.</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> <b>- Dylana
Kneeshaw</b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFB_tpOWPe0tOonOKEv1Q3ChU2wCD5YSMAN5Ri0RCXlNRxvZ9BbgWJ_w5MHFxYpxJ8r23rGKoI7UF0m5DBajW0917CaNmIbhpthWOqOlY5yqL35Ie-s7reUZOz-imRxsL74PKaHKBaGnYpY3gCLk6HO1NAwai8eZLLhVSE_2iiYOtIsVSu0exGywuWfw=s564" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFB_tpOWPe0tOonOKEv1Q3ChU2wCD5YSMAN5Ri0RCXlNRxvZ9BbgWJ_w5MHFxYpxJ8r23rGKoI7UF0m5DBajW0917CaNmIbhpthWOqOlY5yqL35Ie-s7reUZOz-imRxsL74PKaHKBaGnYpY3gCLk6HO1NAwai8eZLLhVSE_2iiYOtIsVSu0exGywuWfw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Taylor took the time to send me a won</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">der, kind-hearted
response and share more about the project and who benefits the most.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A recent visit to their new site displays the amount given to
<b><i>The Kamloops Shoebox Project</i></b> for</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Women.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizovBkAEIdNKBtV6dQCho00yZwZsnzYIdv13ELGcXyw9plMHD4Fh6lSuDf34o1NIPd4No-T3YwkoqPItqmV2va_jOnPmRlEzjeXTrvyFZeUnJAujslwZ0tbhA_L1tUSTCvjHETgDO02bdX9n1RGw7u5RgyKkr0GqqLq9fRkQoKTGkcWtgyaozOlxKL_Q=s225" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizovBkAEIdNKBtV6dQCho00yZwZsnzYIdv13ELGcXyw9plMHD4Fh6lSuDf34o1NIPd4No-T3YwkoqPItqmV2va_jOnPmRlEzjeXTrvyFZeUnJAujslwZ0tbhA_L1tUSTCvjHETgDO02bdX9n1RGw7u5RgyKkr0GqqLq9fRkQoKTGkcWtgyaozOlxKL_Q" width="225" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="background: white; color: #e86161; font-family: "Lato",sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Thank you Canada!
$1,457,485 worth of holiday gifts & essentials were delivered this holiday
season.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What impressed me the most, was the time given and
consideration in Taylor’s response to me, which was greatly appreciated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are several options to make a donation: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.shoeboxproject.ca/ways-to-give/main#donate">https://www.shoeboxproject.ca/ways-to-give/main#donate</a><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The next lady of inspiration is the steadfast, women of
courage~ Mamie Till-Moberly. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFAc5tNZFqyxDY9D_GWUNvKi30NA5q59D3qQ7Wq1uxvyjqyV3lp1AtNJW5xGkI-Z777hkgmJkp0RBznea92w1ghvL5jDqQUb5JTI5O4O6VVwvhvCvVjJPdxheWablSudagTSbXOsuF8XnEdDNcexa1Tnv9bxPF88uuFIVLhHvjfWgIb0oxBAbUdkHT1g=s1200" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFAc5tNZFqyxDY9D_GWUNvKi30NA5q59D3qQ7Wq1uxvyjqyV3lp1AtNJW5xGkI-Z777hkgmJkp0RBznea92w1ghvL5jDqQUb5JTI5O4O6VVwvhvCvVjJPdxheWablSudagTSbXOsuF8XnEdDNcexa1Tnv9bxPF88uuFIVLhHvjfWgIb0oxBAbUdkHT1g=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Mamie Till Moberly is the mother of the late Emmett Till. Mamie's courageous words and
actions in how she allowed a nation into her personal grieving, her strength in witnessing what had been done to her son and the ultimate loss of Emmett, made history.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I am not going to repeat certain details of the story, as I
feel it is important, for people themselves to <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>watch the series on television, and also do
their own research as to the facts of what happened. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I will give my own opinion as this: It is unconscionable to
grasp the sheer revulsion of a criminal system— bent on covering up appalling
transgressions, which took place in the south, in the 50’s.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are many shocking moments in this series, where I was
struck with the sheer horror of what happened. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgGvK7yVQCRx9kMiFJeLgoC-f9EC-QwaJgdD6-t_mPiMDgGHAZYVaOcLKWfGdtADDlFgiOvUbeDVe4SER8-i875K1vM2jpfrP3Gqc2hVMhsKQWpTpAkNQU4Y7zmJ0yqQtK-dERL2btH_wszU5dQxoD1J_S2CnxpBomK9a5hvuTQ8jBuGP0Ula8CbrkgHA=s681" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="383" data-original-width="681" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgGvK7yVQCRx9kMiFJeLgoC-f9EC-QwaJgdD6-t_mPiMDgGHAZYVaOcLKWfGdtADDlFgiOvUbeDVe4SER8-i875K1vM2jpfrP3Gqc2hVMhsKQWpTpAkNQU4Y7zmJ0yqQtK-dERL2btH_wszU5dQxoD1J_S2CnxpBomK9a5hvuTQ8jBuGP0Ula8CbrkgHA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I leave that up to the reader to discover themselves, however
there was something I will mention that I had never seen before either…in court
their was a bible clearly marked:</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“For Coloured People.” <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For those seeking retribution for what had been done against
a 14 year old boy, named Emmett Till, there would be an on-going commitment to
hold those responsible, for what had taken place. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In 1955, Mamie Till was unwillingly thrust into
American history. The murder of her son, Emmett, catapulted the quiet Chicago
civil service employee into a lifetime of advocacy, starting with seeking
justice for the death of her son. -PBS <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another unlikely hero was a young seventeen girl named Lisa
McVey. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I watched the Lifetime movie called: </span><b><i><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Believe Me: The
Abduction of <a name="_Hlk93257945">Lisa McVey</a></span></i></b><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk93257945;"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and sat in complete
awe of this girls strength and bravery. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The
real survivorship of this true crime story, is the fact that what had Police
and leading investigators baffled for months, because of Lisa McVey, she ended
the terrifying reign of a serial killer targeting women. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">What
astonished me also was the way Lisa was originally unfairly treated by some of the Police;
despite the incredible details and what Lisa did, in order to survive her horrible
ordeal.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-uTVZbI6m89Ollc5EYtYaz4Csn0yvHscuiWjVnJsaX9oJfNzIPceu0_Zbe16FDiA6Po1GVOowp0FZ0uvObe0QC4F_sFU-lvWlwYRzx1mCYVe0Fxpxh25PIUIpeYFzgc1aaW-DqKNrXQZaehaNI-_D_1gguvgNa3rkfnmAgId5AfhzdIsBX1048EfArQ=s564" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="560" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-uTVZbI6m89Ollc5EYtYaz4Csn0yvHscuiWjVnJsaX9oJfNzIPceu0_Zbe16FDiA6Po1GVOowp0FZ0uvObe0QC4F_sFU-lvWlwYRzx1mCYVe0Fxpxh25PIUIpeYFzgc1aaW-DqKNrXQZaehaNI-_D_1gguvgNa3rkfnmAgId5AfhzdIsBX1048EfArQ=s320" width="318" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>The
ending was shocking and is an harrowing account of what a human being can endure- in the
midst of crisis.</span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I
want to end my blog on a thoughtful note by mentioning someone who I shared my
birthday with and who would have been turning a 100 years old. The legendary
star of “Golden Girls,” the late Betty White- who passed away at the age of 99,
devoted her life as an animal rights activist. Many contributions Betty gave of
her time, energy, support and funds to improving the conditions at the Los
Angeles Zoo and other endangered species. </span><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3dal6-XMRehYJ-CnATmZgbjbc4PgHmfXeJ0a6REOIz58Q9L8Qb8PauJ-A5SM-4zhx-PO__jIrwhOiidTGD2hw4eVcoxdBtV18fKSdv_hrJhgAV7GtTzRHuPs6pyIfH5DVVgnwrbn6VAx5kACAGmDiEoOvSKzuv2ZQVHBU3jvRAIyY2RlVYWcOMhCLOA=s534" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="368" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3dal6-XMRehYJ-CnATmZgbjbc4PgHmfXeJ0a6REOIz58Q9L8Qb8PauJ-A5SM-4zhx-PO__jIrwhOiidTGD2hw4eVcoxdBtV18fKSdv_hrJhgAV7GtTzRHuPs6pyIfH5DVVgnwrbn6VAx5kACAGmDiEoOvSKzuv2ZQVHBU3jvRAIyY2RlVYWcOMhCLOA=s320" width="221" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I acknowledge
Betty White, as there is a kindred connection to those whose lives were saved
and protected by Betty’s pioneering activism.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">All
these women I’ve written about have various degrees of strengths, heroism,
courage and unwavering spirit. Despite some of the subject matter being
difficult, I can see in these women fearlessness. A willingness to take on
serious issues such as poverty, homelessness, violence against women and
children, and the plight of those who cannot speak for themselves. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">To
me, these are the precious gifts that should not only matter on the day you
were born, but also throughout the year. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I
can be most grateful for women placed in my own life: Nurses, Doctors,
Pharmacist, Teacher’s and helpers, Caregivers, Mothers, Aunts, Cousins, Sisters
and dearest friends who have seen me through another year. To the one's whose heart I've encountered before and to those who've been a solid rock of support, I am deeply gracious for all I have received! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">As
I look forward, I treasure the things that no amount of money can buy….to those
fierce butterflies that take flight, never knowing where their journey may transform
them too.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Thank you for bringing me to another birthday...in spite of being by myself, I feel all of you in my heart. 💖</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUOKf5FrPJ1T2kl0_alLT_0hsewSuK7TopKtWmuf2xxAFUOJOLnTA2-MNO0nz2iYnEz5naE5itCkxyftvJnsLiS7UODMpcDfEmbQEkOxk56DSnL1a9nfkGAH72gQaouDlj6CsrWrrym-6Fjg7ni9VXvotLYKBMCnCvVikkpYp5ur-WywatMm7Sl-7Xbw=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUOKf5FrPJ1T2kl0_alLT_0hsewSuK7TopKtWmuf2xxAFUOJOLnTA2-MNO0nz2iYnEz5naE5itCkxyftvJnsLiS7UODMpcDfEmbQEkOxk56DSnL1a9nfkGAH72gQaouDlj6CsrWrrym-6Fjg7ni9VXvotLYKBMCnCvVikkpYp5ur-WywatMm7Sl-7Xbw=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #202124; font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">By
TL Alton</span></p><br /><p></p>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0Vancouver, BC, Canada49.2827291 -123.12073759.36399138506183 166.56676249999998 89.201466814938158 -52.808237500000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-21300520600570549952022-01-10T20:43:00.003-08:002022-01-11T10:19:40.257-08:00Unwrapping the Shack Part 2 *Trigger Warnings <p><span style="color: #0b5394;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhv865jDZk48tQSvJ59Q0E22Mt0dwi-koY9Kddh-3Dd_qopOnu4G4Fg6xv8-WdPZhov_UoHagj_9Rbocb_1c4ijaQ-jLzjFc0wKHRlvenmXAsNEdzNcApBfOVR7D1HWAsPgax9BMWKA78QUBflsBZwBdB-oHNyYVq3rypPOLJk-bZe6YkFoO6Ve4aAyfw=s800" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhv865jDZk48tQSvJ59Q0E22Mt0dwi-koY9Kddh-3Dd_qopOnu4G4Fg6xv8-WdPZhov_UoHagj_9Rbocb_1c4ijaQ-jLzjFc0wKHRlvenmXAsNEdzNcApBfOVR7D1HWAsPgax9BMWKA78QUBflsBZwBdB-oHNyYVq3rypPOLJk-bZe6YkFoO6Ve4aAyfw=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><b style="color: #0b5394;"><p><b>The thing about healing...is you have to go back to the shack. </b></p></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f">
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</v:imagedata></v:shape></span>Paul continues to explain, “<b><span style="color: #002060;">Going
back to my own Shack, I am there to tear down the walls that years of abuse,
deadly secrets, and the infusion of darkness had poisoned the interior. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">In my discovery….I found…<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">That God never loved the
façade at all…instead, He always loved the shack, complete with its
devastation, complete with its shame, complete with its guilt, complete with
it’s self-hatred and loathing. But it was ME and my heart. It was My Soul and
God was in love in with me. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">It was inside my own Shack
that I have always been pursued and have always been embraced by relentless
affection; the kindness and grace of God that is our Only hope in Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">So often we’re waiting on
someone else to change- before we’re willing to take the steps, to change
ourselves.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">***<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">As I type
Paul’s raw, honest words, I think of my mom…the cycle’s of chaos created
within, her secrets, the poison released unto her children…built up over the
years and I see her inner child, is shattered into a million little pieces so
badly…they never came back together…yet the toxic environment of her own shack,
affected the roots of her son and daughter, in ways that saw her shack implode,
from the inside out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">This is when listening
intently to the words Paul is sharing…he says…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">“We’re each uniquely damaged
and we’re each uniquely healed.” <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b>If I am to believe this, then the
next generation- which I am part of- then there is Hope. Also, we are not to
point fingers at those who are struggling themselves, but remember where we
ourselves have been… <b><span style="color: #002060;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">When you finally hit that
rock bottom, it’s finally a place where you can stand, but it’s a devastatingly
hard place to be. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">***<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">Throughout
the series, Paul references a C.S. Lewis Term: “God- The Grand Interferer.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">A God who is not content to
sit back and let us continue in our misery, our lostness and our suffering, and
our darkness and our blindness. But dives in with us and joins us in the middle
with us, even when we can’t perceive his presence.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For me to be hearing this, coming through all I have
endured, it’s like my lantern has been re-lit. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijSF4bzZW4i4aHb_MwJt-m5pKS40mIKjsxwUpBvRbqu7_s2stLbMRHg7qWb8x0wMTNNQ6rhkWIJTsVPQKO07G7B6dmk1NxoGlN9uGTg4U6qxta2Xj19d5c9-IF5jcHkhQ2Mf9WwscyewE1IvQ0oOlqCYBLEXXWyIaQbLTY7YdCNH9qhOnDh1O5ognVGQ=s600" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="401" data-original-width="600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijSF4bzZW4i4aHb_MwJt-m5pKS40mIKjsxwUpBvRbqu7_s2stLbMRHg7qWb8x0wMTNNQ6rhkWIJTsVPQKO07G7B6dmk1NxoGlN9uGTg4U6qxta2Xj19d5c9-IF5jcHkhQ2Mf9WwscyewE1IvQ0oOlqCYBLEXXWyIaQbLTY7YdCNH9qhOnDh1O5ognVGQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">In reference to this, within my book there are several
instances of light sources. There is one main character, who purchase an old
lantern that doesn’t work. Again, mystery surrounds the actual lantern and
later the reader is left to determine the actual purpose.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">Revelations
21: 23 The city does not need the sun or moon to shine on, because the glory of
God is its light, and the lamb is the city’s lamp.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #1f4e79; mso-themecolor: accent5; mso-themeshade: 128;">***<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There is a remarkable connection in the literal sense of
‘being saved,’ connected to Wm Paul Young’s mother, on the day Harold Munn was
born. Paul has a marvellous way of sharing his personal stories. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Harold Munn was born in Victoria where he did his
university education at UVic. He subsequently taught for three years in Malawi,
East Africa with CUSO. He took his theological training at Trinity College,
Toronto.<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In my posts, I have purposely left all stories out, as they
belong to Paul and his family, not me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
enjoyed hearing them, despite some very painful ones. I’ve even listened to
some, a few times over, as I watched “Restoring the Shack,” I discovered on
Amazon Prime. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Part of Restoring The Shack, is to see the many layers
deep, the novel takes the reader and quite often…the author themselves. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One discovery I did make in connection to those in need, is
that Harold Munn opened his heart to them. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i>When homelessness is on the doorstep, you can shut the
door or you make the decision to advocate,</i></b> says Nestegaard Paul. “<b><i>Harold
chose the latter</i></b>.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">RELATIONSHIP IS EVERYTHING.
WE ARE DESIGNED FOR RELATIONSHIP. -Wm Paul Young<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Having lived in Victoria, BC for eight years, the most
blessings I received, was the years spent helping those in need. I never had to
pretend I was someone I’m not, with those living on the streets, the walls came
down and as we shared a sandwich or coffee together, I’ve never felt more at
home than when I was in their presence. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As I continued to enjoy hearing the many stories of
connection; with God at the center, I would discover another link to my
story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My book was written in 2000 and I looked for a strong
beautiful name for Christian’s mom, Jack’s wife; a woman of wisdom. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was then I discovered the name Sophia.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In 2022, <b><i>Episode 15 The Cave</i></b>, Paul Young
speaks of his character <b><span style="color: #1f3864; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;">“Sophia,” and how the Greek word for wisdom is Sophia. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For me, as a writer, things are relational. While I don’t go
looking for connections, these sharing’s are proof when parts of another
creative soul find its way to you, then without a doubt it’s a God connection. <o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGgcm9uYMHGAnyfN89LEoxpNKtRagSsHisuRQgjE3sIMZRpMCURNI8GfC3iNEF00afrriMuDeIzARatYxDDMhufLOha9TNOIlM8TdaWXu_LZzOPLbaMemKCVnJOmG-SwZWL9t6TL6bA_CGzMT5iW9FeY89MngP41YsPHbDNvy3JCJkPLqy3Ntvg_K35g=s3029" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3029" data-original-width="2867" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGgcm9uYMHGAnyfN89LEoxpNKtRagSsHisuRQgjE3sIMZRpMCURNI8GfC3iNEF00afrriMuDeIzARatYxDDMhufLOha9TNOIlM8TdaWXu_LZzOPLbaMemKCVnJOmG-SwZWL9t6TL6bA_CGzMT5iW9FeY89MngP41YsPHbDNvy3JCJkPLqy3Ntvg_K35g=w379-h400" width="379" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At one of the lovely places I stayed overnight, the owner, Melissa, has this beautiful artwork she created on the bedroom wall. For me and my heart, it spoke of and was reflective of my book.</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">The Only time you will find
God in a box, is because God wants to be where we are.</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">That is beautiful to me... <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Episode 16 and the revelation of The Trinity, spoke straight
to me. After, Paul shared a harrowing story of another courageous survivor.
This prompted me to recall a time when I had survived a horrific attack and the
bravery it took in order for me to endure and live through it. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As the episode unfolded, I was struck with the pure truth
that I hadn’t acknowledged before: <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I hadn’t saved myself; God was the one who honestly saved
me. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The author goes on to share…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">God’s intent is to heal
us…even though it is ‘AS Through Fire.’<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">WE need the activity of fire
to expose our hearts and heals us<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">Fire is restorative<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">Fire purifies us.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">God is a consuming fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">How often are we rich in ways
that matter, than we don’t even know? <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">Thankful for a God that
climbs into our circumstances to be with us. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">***<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The truth of my times of survival, I have always felt a
surrounding presence. An unwavering belief that I will get through this and yet
for me verbally to give up all control is like stepping out to a double edged
sword- -one side dull and the other side sharp. There are parts of me that
loves the danger, the risk and the other wants to play it safe, keep everything
‘inside the lines.’ <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Throughout my life and because of my system of tangled
roots, I have made terrible choices that placed me in times of darkness. Having
Bipolar and PTSD is like inviting an army of fire ants to your sandbox. You
know your going to experience pain and yet it is a place of comfort to you- all
you have ever known. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">Paul shares about trust and
control:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">When you have FEAR <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in your life, you can either TRUST or CONTROL.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">Let go of control and joy can
be a constant companion rather than an occasional acquaintance. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">We only get grace one day at
a time. I’m spending real grace on things that don’t exist. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">So what would it cost me to
let go of that CONTROL…IT’S THE RISK OF TRUST.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">I have dealt
with trust issues all of my life; in fact, in fifty years, there is only one
relationship where I was graced with their faithfulness to me. ONLY ONE. My
response? I ran as far away as I could from this person because I could not
fathom, someone would remain devoted to me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">Sometimes the path for
healing from fear is into the fear itself. - Wm Paul Young<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">I’ve written
about it before- growing up having a poverty mentality. How I felt more
comfortable having less, as it is my security blanket. I have shared about the
guilt tied to my daughter’s untimely and tragic death. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never been able to explain it in a way,
so others could understand, what it is I am wanting to convey until I heard
this…</span><b><span style="color: #002060;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">Paul shared he had an orphan
heart, in that orphans don’t believe anything actually belongs to them. They’re
just waiting for someone whose more worthy, to come along and take it. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">There is the
profound truth- the cornerstone of my broken walls of mistrust, my cycles of
poverty and the feeling of being unworthy of anyone’s love. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">“We don’t know there is
something GOOD in us that we are worthy of being loved, we’ll be caught in a
cycle of religion trying to perform our way into the approval and affection of
God.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’ve spent most of my life, scared of the woman who brought
me into this world. As I watched this series, I wondered if I had ever told her
that I thought she was a good woman? While I lamented over never being told, “I
am proud of you,” I was stopped in my tracks, if ever I had said the very same
to her? When was the last time, my mom had ever heard those words or when last had
she been blessed with the title of motherhood? <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">“I’m furious at the things
that are wrong and keep people locked into bondage that are hurting them.”-Wm
Paul Young<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When we grow up absent of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘proper parenting’, we grow up absent of feelings, emotions and
characteristics that makes us all unique. I knew I was stupid, lazy, no good
for and useless…never did I believe I was worthy, loved, accepted and wanted.
Yet, I have a strong sense that neither did my mother. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjDAFc_rnD4-ayMDj3kxnCCPV0CvgOxsTTIlCHUs2n7t-gextIv5FdpbiE-8QBmU_1_TVlqC4QVZsU8E0GFM9Oark9AfUSGtoJdyiw-s87Ds0leCcCqnzq53m28x2pyGfehpnFWqUHS86ANEJK3cCYKb5Q3dI37HBkWdNMniZrOdAr6C800B2mIKbLtIg=s1072" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="877" data-original-width="1072" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjDAFc_rnD4-ayMDj3kxnCCPV0CvgOxsTTIlCHUs2n7t-gextIv5FdpbiE-8QBmU_1_TVlqC4QVZsU8E0GFM9Oark9AfUSGtoJdyiw-s87Ds0leCcCqnzq53m28x2pyGfehpnFWqUHS86ANEJK3cCYKb5Q3dI37HBkWdNMniZrOdAr6C800B2mIKbLtIg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">On the back cover of my novel, I chose to have a snapshot of
me at age four and my late, beloved, daughter Shayla, at age two. For me and
for her, it was a time where life seemed frozen in a time filled with joy…before
my life was impacted by abuse as a little girl for the first but not the last
time. The photo is also prior to me nearly dying in a car accident at the age
of four, on a highway outside of Edmonton, Alberta.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My daughter Shayla and the picture of her at two years old-
was taken at a friends house- 19 years before her life would be tragically
taken in a car crash. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">These were moments in time, where we understood what happiness
felt like. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In my candid honesty, I didn’t want some fake photo of me smiling-
while choking on hidden secrets. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I also wanted two photographs - connecting my inner child
with hers. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In an interview with Maria Shriver, Wm. Paul Young says: <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">“It took me a whole life to
become a child.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">I knew in an
instant what that meant. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">I’ve been
trying to spend my whole life reclaiming my past childhood- the one where I was
properly loved within the mind of my imagination- where I was properly wanted,
nurtured and had proper boundaries.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">MOST OF OUR HURT COMES FROM
RELATIONSHIPS AND MOST OF OUR HEALING COMES FROM RELATIONSHIPS -Wm Paul Young<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Some people think me being a Christian, life is easy. At
least those who don’t truly know me. They believe I am galloping through a
field of wildflowers and saying, 'God, can you please take this from me,' and
it just all falls in place...much like a rainbow- landing perfectly from the
sky- unto it's pot o' gold. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Truth is….I've been in a tug o' war with God, my whole life!
The reality is I am that wounded little girl at the playground, who gathers all
the sandbox toys together and will not share- for fear of never having anything
given back in return. I hold on so tight, that each toys sharp edges is poking
into me, causing me pain… but Still…<b><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">I will not let go</span></b>. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">God is present, not in a way
to coerce of control, God is present to be with us in the midst of what we and
others have brought to the table. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Just as my trust issues have caused me a multitude of
heartache, so has the death of my child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the first decade since Shayla died, I did more positive things with
my grief that I could imagine. I participated in a six month bereavement course
through Hospice, I received personal one on one counselling,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I became a facilitator of GriefShare, a faith
based course, to help others, I released my daughter’s ashes into the ocean, on
the Island of Maui. Part of my ‘healing’ was to ensure safety changes were and
did take place where Shayla died. I started a Pebble Movement and was the one
to dedicate her memorial bench. I even read my bible more and I felt closer to
God, more than I ever had. There were no instances of displacement, no living
out of vehicles and no serious health issues. Then…the damn broke and I was
carried away with all the debris of my life. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">Loss doesn’t make any sense…<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">Inside those losses are times
where we learn about community, and we learn about each other, we invite people
in to places, maybe we haven’t before. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Years ago, I sat in a movie theatre watching “The Shack,”
beside two people. I didn’t know them or that it had been filmed in the
Southern region of British Columbia. I openly wept, given the tragic loss of a
child, was the main theme. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">Paul speaks of when we
receive nudges: “So, I just got the nudge and those of you who have been
walking in a relationship with Jesus, for a long time and learned how to listen
to the Holy Spirit, speaking in your language, you know the concept of the
nudge. You just get a nudge. It happens in the normalcy of your life. In the
ordinariness of everyday and its like that’s a good idea.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">After the movie ended and through my salty tears, sprinkled onto
my butter popcorn, I decided it was a good idea to share with the theatre goers
beside me…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I said, “I couldn’t help it, but throughout the movie, I
expressed my grief, heartache and a sense of unexpected joy. It was such a
mixed feeling of emotions, as my only child passed away.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The two people
sitting next to me smiled and seemed content with my words. The one lady
replied, “It was good of you to share, as that means a lot to the both of
us…for each of us was on the set of “The Shack.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">“Coincidence has a name…that
is GOD is involved in the details of our lives.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">***<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There is a beautiful scene in another film, called “Antwone
Fisher.” One so powerful, where upon first watching it, I had to shut the movie
off and have a good, ugly cry. It was back when I had little or no connection
to my extended family. Since then, I have watched the heartbreaking/ inspiring
story and been able to sit with my Joy in what it means to have family that
cares…that loves me…even those parts of my own shack that I have tried to keep
hidden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To understand deeper connection,
I want to share the scene I am speaking of. Antwone Fisher arrives to a house
and not just any house…inside are all of his loving relatives, welcoming him to
a beautiful feast, a banquet put on, just for him. Everyone is smiling,
reaching out with hugs and the love he has hungered for, all of his life. I cry at this heartwarming scene, as I can imagine how beautiful it would feel to be welcomed like that. I also envision the very same kind of welcoming, one
where I see my brother also happy, stripped of his imperfections and waiting to
hug his little sister, with love…nothing but the pure kind of love that we
spent years in search of... within our own worn down shacks.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">When the darkness and the
lies are inside and kept inside the imprisonment of our own hearts, THEY ARE HUGE.
When we let them out…THEY LOSE THEIR POWER. -Wm Paul Young<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The series, “Restoring the Shack,” has impacted me at a pivotal
time in my life. I have been able to unpack a lot of unfinished baggage and
honestly address the major issues in my life. While funds ended abruptly last year,
no one is more responsible for where I am at, than myself. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Just as I had danced my way back into darkness, I understand
the fragments in me are of my undoing. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Something I have been very blessed to received is grace…many
times over and as I look back on this past Christmas, there were many new
angels that stepped up, to help me through, for which I am deeply grateful for.
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">GRATITUDE… WE HAVE SO MUCH TO
BE THANKFUL FOR! Take the time to be Thankful for people, circumstances and
write them down…even better…TELL THEM. -Wm Paul Young<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Yet, as I watched this series, it occurred to me that I have
been relying on the human form of angels and not entirely upon my faith. I need
to remember that…”God is In the details.” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I have prayed over this many times from the warm comforts of
my temporary shelter and finally, I had a my answer! Faith is about having true
assurance that what is ahead, I need to wholly give it to God! I cannot have
one foot in the sandbox and the other one out- ready to bolt and take hold of
whoever will help me. I have spoken to an Intake worker and been given the
details of assistance. Yet, what’s important is for me to fully trust in God,
to be the one who rescues me. To turn to the bible, I have spent two decades studying
and search for the answers I need, among the 1,551 pages I’ve read. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="text-indent: -36pt;">I am unsure what lays ahead, yet some decisions have been
made as to the need to control....be given up, no matter the outcome.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">With my upcoming birthday, I’ve had some friends reach out
and ask me what do I need? <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">A PRAYER IS AN OPEN
CONVERSATION WITH GOD <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I took the time in prayer and replied back: “I don’t need
anything, but what I would like is if any of you are not Organ Donors…please
take the time to sign up. I did and if anything could ever be viable for
someone else, then the gift of life is all I ask you to do.” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Also, I am making a declaration in this post so that
everyone knows where I stand. It is one Wm. Paul Young made himself, with his
wife and children.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">I KNOW that you Love me, you
care for me and want to see me thrive…but Please, I ask under ANY
circumstances, you do NOT Rescue me from this…<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">***<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">When you learn to live
without expectations, there’s always surprises right around the corner. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">This is a God who cares for
us, involved in the details….the stories….we get the privilege of unravelling
the tapestry of the stories, how we’re all interrelated. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">I think we are surrounded by
the miraculous, and yet, we are oblivious most of the time. We live our lives in
prison; prisons of our own making, prisons that other people have built for us,
and sometimes those prisons become our identity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is, they become precious to us. Our
fears, our hurts, our losses, the abuse, we begin to identify themselves to us.
A lot of times the prison door is left unlocked, and we don’t want to leave. So
here is the question Paul asks us to think about:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">How much of your life do you
live inside the hurt and the losses of your history; inside what other people
have done to you, inside your own suffering?<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">Has it become an identity to
you…and what would it cost you… to walk out? - Wm. Paul Young <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjo2exbDRJKBo6t50sblNxOl4hEuxmPiG82RHOr7K8qU7psBE_D9ywcTAt1MAUAK8S-lZHq6zlr5gMNA6oJRbqwlOTSIzkl0g8AATnDme9nEWsqXI-Apf_L8gM050iSk83aD9Tzz6_u4SgJ3Rsg6mDi7S9DxTT1YdXZGePbQNF7cEts_pF_w_sJN9Yx4w=s650" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="650" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjo2exbDRJKBo6t50sblNxOl4hEuxmPiG82RHOr7K8qU7psBE_D9ywcTAt1MAUAK8S-lZHq6zlr5gMNA6oJRbqwlOTSIzkl0g8AATnDme9nEWsqXI-Apf_L8gM050iSk83aD9Tzz6_u4SgJ3Rsg6mDi7S9DxTT1YdXZGePbQNF7cEts_pF_w_sJN9Yx4w=w400-h233" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">By TL Alton <o:p></o:p></p>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0Vancouver, BC, Canada49.2827291 -123.120737520.972495263821152 -158.27698750000002 77.59296293617885 -87.9644875tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-49762209201257043202022-01-09T19:24:00.006-08:002022-01-10T01:54:28.276-08:00Unwrapping The SHACK Part 1 * Trigger Warnings <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgqpUkA0fhqXCwXbZeqACPYJm3pm4vbDRPLaLUZGIfi0HllZzRru1hdFUs7ZrAwK4Kl1Njyoyg0OOxZ31vOcnDhH92VL0lslRvVu1ohxdDtC2-Yugk84WOTM2UXrTn_lKUk4GmcNQNtpb9AWGtpRB7GQP3K7wqIBKz5JpGsIfDKpqDNOwrGuksNM-6mQ=s564" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgqpUkA0fhqXCwXbZeqACPYJm3pm4vbDRPLaLUZGIfi0HllZzRru1hdFUs7ZrAwK4Kl1Njyoyg0OOxZ31vOcnDhH92VL0lslRvVu1ohxdDtC2-Yugk84WOTM2UXrTn_lKUk4GmcNQNtpb9AWGtpRB7GQP3K7wqIBKz5JpGsIfDKpqDNOwrGuksNM-6mQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #002060;">All of us come with a
house on the inside that people helped us build. Some of us , we bring a shack
and then we can’t help but involve other people in our losses. It seems safer
to fake our way and keep trying, but if at some point we don’t go back into the
shack and let somebody in there, we’re just going to keep retching our poison
on everyone around us; especially the people we love the most. ~ Wm. Paul Young
<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Prior to Christmas, my sister in law Mara sent me a text
with a simple message: </p><p class="MsoNormal">Had I seen “The Shack?”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The answer was yes, many years ago…but up until recently, I
did not see the direct correlation to my life- with the exception of the loss
of a child. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRAAJC-5cKK9afa_FuTQkomyseneNl2AXHyJyGPxL2Gq8_fU_k3nJPs3GXMkwdMUh4g9rPXkvVbvMtGZFADEX49CEDp6Tc-YcWvNGfzTMxjLN6ulByBY1L2H-xG6W93Tz4zy_I44X0zZMmsWV4-vAhjSK1O9lH8yGQkooMNzU1mr6UTl6Zk-DxgbNLFA=s960" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="960" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRAAJC-5cKK9afa_FuTQkomyseneNl2AXHyJyGPxL2Gq8_fU_k3nJPs3GXMkwdMUh4g9rPXkvVbvMtGZFADEX49CEDp6Tc-YcWvNGfzTMxjLN6ulByBY1L2H-xG6W93Tz4zy_I44X0zZMmsWV4-vAhjSK1O9lH8yGQkooMNzU1mr6UTl6Zk-DxgbNLFA=w400-h250" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">What Mara did not know was that a door had been re-opened to
a place within me, to my past experiences and to my current situation of
displacement. She could not have known that I would find a series on Amazon
called Restoring The Shack, with the author Wm. Paul Young delving deeper into
the fissures of his own fractured life, his guarded secrets and ugly truths.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Ever since “The Shack,” was released in many forms out into
the world, there have been an endless stream of God incidences- where timing,
setting and circumstances all fell into place- to create a ripple connection to
“The Shack.” Mine included.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“The Shack post is about me coming to terms with my own
ghosts and releasing my hold onto Angels, which are needed elsewhere. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Knowing what I do now, I have come to a place of
understanding and acceptance. Where my own book, “Under the Sitka Tree,” has
more in common with Wm. Paul Young, than people realize…this includes myself.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In my own novel, there are things that are not what at first
they appear to be and that is on purpose. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">From an injured bird to a treehouse and the Sitka Spruce
itself, reader’s are taken on a self- discovery voyage of themselves. Each
thing represents something bigger and speaks to the light or darkness inside
ourselves. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Born William Paul Young, in Grande Prairie, Alberta, Paul’s
life would be on a trajectory course that saw his pain collide with his
addictions, childhood abuse and loss of self-worth. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Paul say’s, <b><span style="color: #002060;">“We have to find
a way to let someone into that space of sadness. We’re designed to be in
community. We’ve never been designed to be alone. We have to begin by taking
the risk of telling the truth, of speaking things that are real, of going back
into our histories, and into our shacks and talking about our great sadness. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">Its hard to apprehend God, to
comprehend God, especially not directly. A lot of times we’ve tried to do it
with our minds and rationality. It’s not that this is mindless, but the best
way to comprehend the character and nature of God is through metaphor and
story. It meets us as a whole person. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<b><span style="color: #002060;">This is the metaphor of The Shack. Our parents impact our
theology. Our theology then re-parents us. The ripples of their choices and our
interaction with them, continue. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">And it becomes the place
where we then hide all of our addictions, and we store all of our secrets. A
place, where we never want to invite another human being into our space,
because we are terrified that they are going to hate us the way, we already do…<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">The shack is the house on the
inside that people help you build, and some of you, you got good help! You had
parents who were present and wanted to Love you and did, who wanted to encourage
you and did. Who affirmed you. So some of the inside house, for some of us are
habitable places. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">But for a lot of us, its just
a shack and that shack is the house that is our Soul, it is our Heart and for
some of us…it’s broken. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">Our parents had a huge impact
on us, either because of their presence or because of their absence. Those of
us who grew up orphans or who grew up losing a parent early, or with abusive
parents, were greatly impacted by them.” <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I experienced two of these, in the form of traumas. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">.<b><span style="color: #002060;">***</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #1f3864; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;">STORY. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #1f3864; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;">Everyone has one. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #1f3864; mso-themecolor: accent1; mso-themeshade: 128;">Actually everybody IS one and every story matters. -Wm.
Paul Young, “Restoring the Shack.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #073763;">***</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So let me now share the metaphor of my book, <i><b>Under the Sitka
Tree</b></i> and some of my own story…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Sitka represents shelter, a safe refuge, where
friendships grow, and secrets are shared. The tree is an anchor. A connection
to the roots of those who immigration journeys, find them in a community that
thrives on acceptance, love and family values. The Sitka is a beacon of hope in
the shadows, when others feel all is lost; a haven where broken hearts are
mended, and forgiveness can be found. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Peel back the layers of bark and then you will discover the
simple truth- the Sitka is the cross that you carry; a place where your wounds
are on display and all your burdens are laid to rest. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Each of us bares the weight that the enemy has burdened us
with. For me, at the beginning Sitka was my daughter, her ‘good heart’ shining
through. Then in December 2011, when she was trapped under a frozen reservoir
and passed away, the shame began to eat away at the dry rot of my shack. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Back then, Sitka was still an unfulfilled promise and thus
began a cycle of poverty, tied to my guilt of not being able to save my
daughter’s life. My self-worth anchored to my remorse; I had brought darkness
to my story. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In reading my novel, everything that happens at the tree is
symbolic and has the elements of my faith journey, intertwined with its roots. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What became of my repeated history, is tied into a legacy of
dysfunction, turmoil, and the inability to let go. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0b5394;">***</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Growing up, my mother always terrified me, and I could not
understand why I felt I was the source of her rage and unhappiness. Her birth
name meant ‘woman of sorrows’ and I believe she felt it was a curse. Later in
her life, she literally removed and changed her first and middle name. I
believe she too felt her connections to the darkness, had followed throughout
her life. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was raised
believing that behind her emptiness, there was a mark upon me that would lead
to a lifetime of my own pain and suffering. That try as I might, to get through
to her tough, thickened exterior- someone else or many- had come along and
crushed every bit of human emotion, from her. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I grew up, never knowing how to accept a compliment or how later
in life to welcome the words shared by others: <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I am proud of you!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What my childhood taught me was endless ways to hide my real
feelings, I learned to endure at the hands of my stepfather, many beatings and
sexual abuse, where after time…I had mastered not to exude a single tear. This
only incited him further and there were many days, I would go to school covered
in an itchy turtleneck and long slacks, to cover the colours of purple, greens
and blues that were a roadmap of abuse- imprinted upon my 7 year old body. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In Under the Sitka Tree, I wrote from a place of anguish and
with such intent that I wanted to shine a light upon domestic and childhood
abuse. The lurid topics, no one is comfortable, in openly sharing. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">“There is NOTHING that
destroys or dismantles the Soul of a human being like sexual abuse.</span></b> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">What happens is as in my case
and many others, you build a façade around who you really are, because the
truth is, you feel so far gone that you don’t really understand who it is that
your suppose to be? You learn to adapt, to change to various people’s
expectations…all the while looking back in the mirror is a stranger, staring
back at you. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">We are as sick as the secrets
we keep</span></b><span style="color: #002060;">.”</span> -Wm. Paul Young <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the original storyline of Sitka, one of the main
character’s experiences trauma, in addition to being witness to her mother’s
own victim of domestic abuse. Attending a well known Writer’s Conference, one
publisher said dryly that<i> he was alarmed at the degree of violence against
both mother and child</i>. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I flatly replied, “In the time it took you to read that
short passage, that ‘degree of violence,’ is actual reality for 1 in 3 woman
and millions of children, worldwide.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">In writing
these two parts of my first blog of 2022 and without a dear friend knowing what
it is I was working on, she emailed me about an organization, in Victoria, BC
called </span><span style="color: #ff0066;"><b>“Wear2Start.”</b></span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">This is a
place where women fleeing domestic violence, sexual abuse, are newly
immigrated, and can re-integrate back into the work force, by receiving clothes
for upcoming interviews, courses and appointments.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">In operation
since the early 2000's, Wear2Start is a non-profit society run entirely by volunteers.
They help women referred by agencies that provide educational, job training,
re-training and job preparation programs who then require a work wardrobe. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">I watched the
4.5 minute short video, whose heartfelt story of one of its key founders and
first president, is Kathleen McMullin. I am including the YouTube link. This is
their story.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://youtu.be/hJZkgLBOnpA">https://youtu.be/hJZkgLBOnpA</a><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">I want to
shed some light on something that is directly connected to myself and also my
mother. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">“Part of the devastation of
sexual abuse is that it absolutely destroys your inside boundaries.”-Wm. Paul
Young.</span></b><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When I first began fleshing out the characters of Sitka, the
young girl was meant to have been a survivor of sexual abuse. I recall one day,
as I began to write the chapter where violence and mayhem unfolds, my hand
began to tremble. At first, I thought it was from my nerves and revisiting past
traumatic experiences. Then a feeling- as if there was a fire burning strong
within, overcame me- it was then I realized the power I had inside my pen.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I felt a surge of bravery coursing throughout me, and it was
then I understood that my character- while yes, there would be a traumatic
event, this little girl would not be a victim of sexual abuse. While she was a
survivor of a harrowing ordeal, I wanted the character to have unwavering
boundaries- a stronghold that I never had in my own life. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So, instead of having chapters filled with the painful
subject matter, I focussed on what it was like to see bruises cover my own
mother’s body. The time, I saw her in the bathtub, nude and shivering with the
black and blue imprints of a fist, covering her whole. In her trembling hand, a
glass filled with the brim of whiskey. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As I write this, that glass has never left her hand, as my
mother doesn’t drink for enjoyment, no-she drinks to obliterate a past that
clings upon her skin- like a rapid dog, bent on never letting go. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f">
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</v:imagedata></v:shape></span>Every time, I sat down to work on my book, that image was
seared in my mind and while the one character in my book is not solely based on
my mother, the violence she endures is. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One other thing that was important to me in my writing, was
to share the thread of multiple losses- what it’s like to have the man you
believed to be the only true father figure in your life- to be taken away, at
an early age. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My father Ronald Hancheruk, was someone who battled his own
demons and I only have few memories that didn’t involve alcohol. However, there
was a feeling of being loved by him. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So much of his ‘walking out of my life,’ left me with such
abandonment and rejection issues that I carry them to this day. At age 41 (when
I was 17 years old), and right before Christmas, my father died of Cancer. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Years later, my daughter would pass away at 21. The raw
grips of bereavement saw my dad pass on December 16<sup>th</sup>, 1988 and my
daughter die on December 12<sup>th</sup>, 2011. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I never knew my father was dying and therefore as a
consequence; there was no goodbye’s. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Later, as I continued to work on my book, “Under the Sitka
Tree,” I would weave a thread of grief for Skylar Reigh Falls, to her own
father’s early demise. For I felt there was unfinished work in my shack that
needed to be re-visited. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As I watched the series on <b><span style="color: #002060;">“Restoring the Shack,”</span></b><span style="color: #002060;"> </span>my heart was
resonating with the beautiful truth of how it all came together. For when
people pick up a book, they do not see the labour of love, the rejections, the
healing that goes into a work of fiction or non-fiction. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #002060;">The Opposite of more is
enough -Wm Paul Young<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Paul wrote the story on a train bound to one of his three
jobs. His wife Kim had encouraged Paul to write it as a gift for his children,
since they didn’t have lots to give for Christmas. He went to office depot and
had 15 copies of “the Shack” made and to be given as gifts. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was soon shared to friends and so on. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When it was actually sent to 26 various publishers…it was
REJECTED 26 times!<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Wayne Jacobsen and Brad Cummings had a Podcast that went to
150 Countries, 45 minutes a week.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Overtime, it went from a Christmas gift from a father to his
children, to 33,000 in 30 days and the publishers who had turned Paul down,
were now interested in his book. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He received a call from Barnes and Noble, who said, “Normally,
we charge a lot of money for a publisher to put their books at the front of our
stores nationwide. It’s called placement. Would you consider allowing us to do
this for you for three months….FOR FREE.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="border-bottom: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; border: none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm 0cm 1pt;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">In the first 13 months from May
2007- June 2008, 1.1 Million copies of The Shack, was shipped.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">There is more to the
extraordinary story and when I watched the series and the truth unfolded, by
Paul’s owns words, I sat in awe of how a gift for his children, has sent
ripples out into the world and into my own life. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p>During one of my three times of displacements, I recall, one
night listening to PRAISE 106.5 FM. The hosts were airing a story that was
shared by Wm. Paul Young related to “The Shack.” Despite the cold winter night
and darkened, lonely road I was travelling on, I became so intrigued by this
story that I pulled over, next to a frozen pond. In my car, I blasted the heat
and sat back in wonder over yet another amazing connection to Paul’s book.
Again, I am not going to relay the story, yet will say it was connected to loss
of a daughter and a picnic table that led to something far bigger, showing that
God, is indeed in the details.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">***</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">Fast forward to 2022, and I am in a place of shelter;
provided by someone whose love for me, has seen ripples of her own kind heart, gift many blessings.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">This is a
humble woman, who was there for me in all three of my times of displacements
(amongst many others) and I know within my soul, I would not be alive, had I
remained sick in my car- when the latest cold snap happened. For the device I had placed on my heart in August, does not do well in the chilling temperatures. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">If I found myself in Alberta or anywhere north, God only knows what would happen? </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">My recent connection to "Restoring the Shack," came because of the tender heart of Mara, asking me a simple question. We also share in the journey and sudden loss of our children. Her grief
wraps around her daily, as reminders of the immeasurable loss of her son Matt,
which lead me to the series that I did not know existed before. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">I have another thing in common with Wm. Paul Young. We both like questions. I also love research and seeing how one small thread, can weave a tapestry of relevance and understanding.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">It was what connected me to another place of evidence that <b><i>God is in
the details</i></b>.</p></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiw5bc7LiAevHJ_xA9tmLhZAtMfLJQ8RJoDnygcC8WS9Hz_rV_z9W2To9gC2Zb5OsJzMZ325qKRiJL6JrHl78MjHzbZf4L5lFhIvLsCtAOMmxSOrKBEo9-zz55FZZGDxluVtzccNEH_B-Le7P8ijJ05qvFgyaihdbMsoqWPR-rKlB8bIa8Ozjs0fm5fRQ=s3840" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiw5bc7LiAevHJ_xA9tmLhZAtMfLJQ8RJoDnygcC8WS9Hz_rV_z9W2To9gC2Zb5OsJzMZ325qKRiJL6JrHl78MjHzbZf4L5lFhIvLsCtAOMmxSOrKBEo9-zz55FZZGDxluVtzccNEH_B-Le7P8ijJ05qvFgyaihdbMsoqWPR-rKlB8bIa8Ozjs0fm5fRQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Last night, I was in the midst of the series, where the next Episode
13 is titled: </p><p class="MsoNormal">“<b>Coincidence Has a Name</b>.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In my room, I am warm, content and thanking God for another
day. As I await a follow-up call from an Intake Worker, my days here are
limited. Therefore, I am using this time to reflect, to learn, to forgive
myself and heal from all things that the past 50 years has been dragged along,
in my life.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I know- like a rapid weight loss/ detox, I am unravelling and immersing myself into a type of self-care, I've not experienced before. One where I have a definite understanding that me - in control- has never flourished into anything good. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Settling into watch the next episode, within the first few
minutes of Paul’s re-telling, I know that he is speaking of the story I heard years ago,
during my first displacement and living in my car. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Thinking back to that winter night, when I pulled
over beside a frozen pond and turned up my radio...the notion that a couple had been brought to a specific place, all due to them wanting a picnic, re-instilled in me, God is so good. Listening to PRAISE 106.5 FM, a Christian station, licensed out of Lynden, Washington, I heard the story about a couple, struggling with loss. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I felt the tears flow, as they shared their own story connection to “The Shack.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">What happened, as I wrote my first part to my blog, was I had my earphones on listening to Paul, and typing away my own thoughts. I was relaying the story above, when suddenly on my laptop screen, Paul begins to share the very same story on, "Restoring the Shack." </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As I write, I realize there is so much more to the Wm. Paul
Young’s stories, his words and the series that has to be told. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Going</span> back and
forth in comparison of both novels, lives and the heartaches of both Paul and
myself, my book has the very same thread as of Paul’s. In that our stories are
two-layers: one is the fictional world created to mask the reality of the
writer’s world and the other layer, reflects on our personal relationship with
God.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I will be sharing more in Part 2, as there is more to <i><b>coincidence
has a name</b></i>. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">With every exceptional story, ever turned into a movie,
there is a soundtrack. The first time I heard the American Christian Rock Band<b><i>
Skillet</i></b>, was when I fell in love with their song “ANCHOR”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I bought the CD and when my little red car
had the stereo system working, I had their CD on replay for every road trip.
The song is not heard in the actual movie, rather on the soundtrack of “The
Shack.” <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhI4opFQSXeXtkhAmp7X6caYlhXpXTkBMuDOP2qV8K24J86Znqp7GHmFcmMy-PRI2lSOH7Daxh36VjZ6Dq3NEBpcXcJYpBdZohA0_CVEIgcSaQ2ziIzJORTkbEqgHVCXy6jTcXVwsPfpE5f3uylvlKfTpTVfymkdu1Q-qRq6nF7w4iJPyYomoI4tBXzvw=s960" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="576" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhI4opFQSXeXtkhAmp7X6caYlhXpXTkBMuDOP2qV8K24J86Znqp7GHmFcmMy-PRI2lSOH7Daxh36VjZ6Dq3NEBpcXcJYpBdZohA0_CVEIgcSaQ2ziIzJORTkbEqgHVCXy6jTcXVwsPfpE5f3uylvlKfTpTVfymkdu1Q-qRq6nF7w4iJPyYomoI4tBXzvw=s320" width="192" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Skillet -“Stars” (The Shack Version) [Official Music Video]<o:p></o:p></p>
<a href="https://youtu.be/NtzrLpxM298">https://youtu.be/NtzrLpxM298</a><br />
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">By TL Alton <b><u><o:p></o:p></u></b></p><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com1Vancouver, BC, Canada49.2827291 -123.120737520.972495263821152 -158.27698750000002 77.59296293617885 -87.9644875tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-87596509011515962182021-12-28T23:54:00.004-08:002022-01-03T21:00:35.757-08:00For the LOVE of DIGNITY <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjn7iBq_7x3Xisk7NP-1gZVVjfwQiatm2ryZAk4jgkLR9m4R3NNxlpVA45GSipeXObKIC_NSWGIMpzKk1lDNZpDtXTeIQWFoAGzR91G32SHZb6_qPQnhQPy-zhtbUL7ebUvsjqg6LobHXkBEM1x9Ew_kHeCS9vhGwVh-H-g_rJYnE1upLDXAgGrB6rrYg=s900" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjn7iBq_7x3Xisk7NP-1gZVVjfwQiatm2ryZAk4jgkLR9m4R3NNxlpVA45GSipeXObKIC_NSWGIMpzKk1lDNZpDtXTeIQWFoAGzR91G32SHZb6_qPQnhQPy-zhtbUL7ebUvsjqg6LobHXkBEM1x9Ew_kHeCS9vhGwVh-H-g_rJYnE1upLDXAgGrB6rrYg=s320" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Throughout the season of love, peace and joy -the empty
vessel within me- that was void of these things, saw an abundance of each one
overflow into my soul and surround me with the genuine meaning of Christmas. <o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When I began my third journey of displacement, it came with
much shame as I uprooted myself from a place of shelter, a place to call home. While
all of my benefits ended, I had not been able to keep any savings and as I
dealt with more health issues, hospitalizations and struggled, it all lead to
the current circumstances I find myself in. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In previous posts from 2021, I’ve shared about my mental
health and also the guilt of my only child’s untimely, tragic passing. I’ve
summoned the courage to speak openly of being a Survivor of a horrible assault.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Among my accomplishments, I have been able to boldly share
the accomplishment of seeing my book- <b><i>Under the Sitka Tree</i></b>, be
accepted by a Publisher <b><i>(Oldale Publishing)</i></b> and be available in
print <b><i>(Still Creek Press) </i></b>and on <b><i>Amazon (now in its Third edition).</i></b> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivkHzW4s8S2auBl573AJ3nxvxZetObIHc9ywScNDLyAbkqSEV84cehUW9ZIc8ps_g_qJSmYut4ysGtntStKvl0gmVmaoleg92a5s5VWu1_XElKEbgNotyAi1a-5k_pjLleR7OHXPR-3YQr4jNIlQJm73LY8g_HLf_pKMlVMxDhTSCX-DwzKEQ0wjBODg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivkHzW4s8S2auBl573AJ3nxvxZetObIHc9ywScNDLyAbkqSEV84cehUW9ZIc8ps_g_qJSmYut4ysGtntStKvl0gmVmaoleg92a5s5VWu1_XElKEbgNotyAi1a-5k_pjLleR7OHXPR-3YQr4jNIlQJm73LY8g_HLf_pKMlVMxDhTSCX-DwzKEQ0wjBODg=s320" width="240" /></a></b></div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">This was a promise- over twenty years in the making- to be
fulfilled to my late daughter, Shayla.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In August, I received surgery and was one of the blessed
recipients of a GORE device, to close the hole in my heart where the previous
year, I had a stroke and an aneurysm. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I am reflecting on some of the major highs and lows of 2021
as a means to loop back around to the many ‘angels’ that brought such love, joy
and comfort to my weary soul. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When I left my last residence, on my own accord, on December
1<sup>st</sup>, it was because I placed myself in my landlords shoes. I
realized as I no longer had an income, it would be only a matter of time before
things came to an end. If one were to look deep into the routes of my life, I
will make the decision to bow out and leave- in order to avoid more pain and
rejection. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Yet I feel it is necessary to clarify something…while I’ve
been consumed with a lot of guilt over my daughter’s car crash and I have this
internal need to self punish myself, I never have in any way or form sabotaged
any benefits on purpose, to see me booted into displacement. It has been a
cause and effect boomerang effect, where the ending of either WCB, Regular or
Sickness benefits, along with other short term funding, has collided with the
depths of poverty- I am surrounded by. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Trust me when I say, NO one would want to live out of my car-
the width of a shopping cart! The toll on my health, both physical and
emotional, has seen me hospitalized numerous times! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Last year’s stroke and aneurysm, is something I would not
wish upon anyone! <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJFDGZcENfcvjIz2fB6p-7xOBpSYermnNMYGIOZWmEF9MpSwEg0h0JaMJUmvkGN8jAl1kCP4XoZ643KcQJiDQclipGzYkdRl56obH2qA6fukruabFZM2BMX0ttsHATcPob1JaDzZf_yNuHRlq29tjYX-QHWz8UkGHE360fqzRSa5kEBXZ91EIp2rG6ZQ=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJFDGZcENfcvjIz2fB6p-7xOBpSYermnNMYGIOZWmEF9MpSwEg0h0JaMJUmvkGN8jAl1kCP4XoZ643KcQJiDQclipGzYkdRl56obH2qA6fukruabFZM2BMX0ttsHATcPob1JaDzZf_yNuHRlq29tjYX-QHWz8UkGHE360fqzRSa5kEBXZ91EIp2rG6ZQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4GQi-iicBh9Z1CQIhxLHVz0Ep_n9IrqzfOlnTZ3-67vNwdb1RbsUMLMbl_pUStdzG7x-FfLHNgv3qiLwrRCM36cVeKsnJEJAysAVQeJGvUh-cl24mWZMgIJ-wkfcvXYvGw2fRDqzybxCoT8yDut4jm_5IwyBQZ_vmTHutq5sIGtF9J-rZ0IN1hr8PQA=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4GQi-iicBh9Z1CQIhxLHVz0Ep_n9IrqzfOlnTZ3-67vNwdb1RbsUMLMbl_pUStdzG7x-FfLHNgv3qiLwrRCM36cVeKsnJEJAysAVQeJGvUh-cl24mWZMgIJ-wkfcvXYvGw2fRDqzybxCoT8yDut4jm_5IwyBQZ_vmTHutq5sIGtF9J-rZ0IN1hr8PQA=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />This was how cold it was in my car...a can left overnight, exploded in a frozen state and ripped through the metal! Now imagine how a homeless person, living on the streets, feels like!<br />In my sharing, I want to acknowledge the endless stream of compassionate hearts; those who have come to my aid on many occasions. What I had not counted on, was the need to begin another list of gratitude, for all of the souls that would interact with mine.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;">For I never have any expectations of help…given this is my
third time of displacement.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Yet God had his own plans, in his own time, which saw him
scatter people to cross my path.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">If someone offers you help; you accept it as a
blessing and always be mindful to pay it forward, to someone else. <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Unless people have given me permission to use their name or
mentions a place, I am only referencing certain individuals alphabetically of
simply by mention of them being an angel. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The one parcel I received in the mail, came from Sharen Kish,
who I owe a great deal of inspiration and information regarding Ocean Falls, BC
( the town that I based my setting on for my novel.) Sharen sent me a custom
made bag that I cherish and carry with me everywhere, I go. Her caring and
support, instills in me the value of giving something that has the threads of
two hearts, connected together with love. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUi8fHHqAhxUOD202vBVhhmB0J_O2grX5b6iWH9K3XZRv9TmyUdxjbdO94Q5r5LOTn8ElI1bs5fWj_UbltQIQx6MZAAPJ03H_dBzriwNSgtE2N-fgmXtXFBZml4SbeN_7V1lrXnWHgH1fsoJSmW34_s7M0oFRnxp7zbz60dX_bvX6A6_nT90UxQhPXyw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUi8fHHqAhxUOD202vBVhhmB0J_O2grX5b6iWH9K3XZRv9TmyUdxjbdO94Q5r5LOTn8ElI1bs5fWj_UbltQIQx6MZAAPJ03H_dBzriwNSgtE2N-fgmXtXFBZml4SbeN_7V1lrXnWHgH1fsoJSmW34_s7M0oFRnxp7zbz60dX_bvX6A6_nT90UxQhPXyw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj2uGKR9ZBB681zTYSXaVDV2BYfZzV-URK5T17iWDdsCbFo0H16rrRFkt0pH5y1LclvAGBqNyyiLaAv0X5jl5f2Tt4M0S2tNfF-3XkbBUh4A0lK3sy2oMOiA4Dw7uwI70kOLPHPPcVyE8d5P1KxZq8csr82JX6ohx71yPzJxdIlIS6fMAGmxbZNRFv-Ww=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj2uGKR9ZBB681zTYSXaVDV2BYfZzV-URK5T17iWDdsCbFo0H16rrRFkt0pH5y1LclvAGBqNyyiLaAv0X5jl5f2Tt4M0S2tNfF-3XkbBUh4A0lK3sy2oMOiA4Dw7uwI70kOLPHPPcVyE8d5P1KxZq8csr82JX6ohx71yPzJxdIlIS6fMAGmxbZNRFv-Ww=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I also received the help of a couple, Lorina and Rodger, who
picked up hope chest- the only furniture I own and a beloved gift from my
mother to me, when I was only sixteen.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lorina handed me a card and a box full of homemade Christmas
goodies! <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqjR77lL5aubXjFhhZ37CLDRLdPee-NmOohfAGQrztqKDcJ6gooFJCYQsKaNF3fCRduhk05qkAeN0BkDEsa55h9ksQ6U2D8PKUiIMdJheVfjeU9y2nw0eOj8x2ZaWNNFKtmAKnsz4gjlqUHrCQKzxJjr_EeQQLcpj2uFHY0_2Bbqxb2qloBcFo_jg5uA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqjR77lL5aubXjFhhZ37CLDRLdPee-NmOohfAGQrztqKDcJ6gooFJCYQsKaNF3fCRduhk05qkAeN0BkDEsa55h9ksQ6U2D8PKUiIMdJheVfjeU9y2nw0eOj8x2ZaWNNFKtmAKnsz4gjlqUHrCQKzxJjr_EeQQLcpj2uFHY0_2Bbqxb2qloBcFo_jg5uA=s320" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Another angel was someone whose world collided with mine in a
large amount of love and support. This included purchasing multiple copies of
my book, a much appreciated gift card and other means of giftings where as I
type this, the angel reading this, knows who they are </span><span face=""Segoe UI Emoji", sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">😊</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The next group of angels were from the <b><i>Kal-Tire Store
#688</i></b> in New Westminster, on sixth street. I needed to swap my
all-seasons for my winter tires, yet I no longer had storage available. When I
arrived and spoke to the Manager, I shared that they would need to simply keep
my all-seasons as I was about to be displaced and my tiny storage unit, did not
have room to accommodate my tires. Upon returning, I was moved to tears, when
the Manager shared they would store my tires at no charge and there was no cost
to swap the tires over. I stood there, humbled and in awe of such benevolence.
I thanked the Manager and retreated to my vehicle; hands folded in prayer. It
is in these moments that one needs to be mindful of where grace flows from.
When I opened my eyes, the Manager was standing, waiting patiently at my
window. I opened my driver’s door and he shared even more of their generosity.
When you need your all-seasons put on, there will also be no charge! For me, I
couldn’t express in words just how appreciative I was, because here were hard
working staff, providers for their families and loved ones, willing to extend
their compassion to me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This was the beginning of many acts of kindness, in where I
am sharing, as a means for others to understand that this is God has done, so
as I could go out and pay it forward to others. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">At <b><i>Lynn Valley Laundromat</i></b>, I had various
blessings, where the owner Anudip gifted me my laundry services. She had her
sweet daughter Luca, bring me a sandwich from SUBWAY and then her mother gifted
me with a beautiful, thick navy blanket. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I also mention in my previous post, about <b><i>LUMAGICA</i></b>!
I was gifted an abundance of generosity, from the organizer’s <b><i>(MK
Illumination</i></b>) and also talented musician <b><i>Clay Scott,</i></b> which
saw me enjoy the brilliance of this spectacular event. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">For me, during this time, I began to seek out others who were
in need. It is a chance to meet those with their own battle scars and are more
accepting of my own personal journey. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZjcnGrda-JVSZFHPHRo8ObW9ywAUR01oGeA7mUUVsB7eNMjXmdes03lUkRx8b7MRDKdIPOKteZqJi8c3GoftyJ5gYQREItGRMyyExhAZRt4LrhadBP8DPTQZykOrPYcXAk7lrasU6am2sf0kRfzbU1smnRiwHGQbq5mwuhJIg_MTVoukVIqW5M7v6kg=s736" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZjcnGrda-JVSZFHPHRo8ObW9ywAUR01oGeA7mUUVsB7eNMjXmdes03lUkRx8b7MRDKdIPOKteZqJi8c3GoftyJ5gYQREItGRMyyExhAZRt4LrhadBP8DPTQZykOrPYcXAk7lrasU6am2sf0kRfzbU1smnRiwHGQbq5mwuhJIg_MTVoukVIqW5M7v6kg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">One cold night, as I sat in the passenger seat of my car, I
watched as the frost heaves upon my cracked windshield began to form. Within
minutes, I marvelled at what appeared to be a cross, with a key and a light
(which reminded me of a lantern), take form on my windshield. This brought me
comfort and joy.</span></p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjw0_oDzGFFa61kjmYKjCdl4NMjgzRrEIP7nXRcZ-YxXwEin91g9rKXQNuZZsU_NE_1GggLPgwmGTetuLMwifDbUdSU_OLmu7H_sHHBtkX2OvVhctY52vFeBqVqZ1b8bdQyR0XcjJF3QfVg2LN42GKJlkbOa2Xfko8VI7l5mDBbbxPsZm8iy_VmzceVRQ=s3970" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3970" data-original-width="2719" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjw0_oDzGFFa61kjmYKjCdl4NMjgzRrEIP7nXRcZ-YxXwEin91g9rKXQNuZZsU_NE_1GggLPgwmGTetuLMwifDbUdSU_OLmu7H_sHHBtkX2OvVhctY52vFeBqVqZ1b8bdQyR0XcjJF3QfVg2LN42GKJlkbOa2Xfko8VI7l5mDBbbxPsZm8iy_VmzceVRQ=s320" width="219" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Later, when the opportunity arose to simply have an exchange
about Jesus ( in such a way that exposed my flaws)…I also knew where Promise can
be found, there is also a glow that comes from within.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Over the Christmas season, this exchange happened to me
twice, in a profound manner. Once in Save-On Foods in North Vancouver and the
other, in a McDonalds in Langley. In conversing with Sharen, we engaged in a
deep conversation that spoke of the spirit and what the true beauty of
Christmas is- <b><i><span style="color: red;">HOPE</span></i></b>. Before we
parted, I gifted her a Tim Horton’s Gift card. Another angel dressed in red and
a garland of glowing lights, made it possible for me to purchase gift cards and
hand them out, to those in need.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In the other exchange I had, it was with a young Manager
named Tyler at a McDonald’s location. He took a few minutes, out of his day, to
speak with me. Our discussion was on the pureness of what loving and believing
in Jesus has brought us both, in reassurance that we each have a bigger purpose
in this life. After we had shared, I went to my car and gifted him a copy of my
book. He offered to pay for it, yet the value of his words, the beautiful
message he conveyed, had truly been such a gift to me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In between the joy of many blessings received, I was hospitalized
twice during the past month, as the stress has taken it’s toll on me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">However, on the last visit, I was grateful for the dignity I
received as <b><i>Lions Gate Hospital</i></b>. Prior to speaking with my family
Doctor, <i>Bharminder Gill</i>, I was nervous about going to Emergency. I have
high anxiety at hospitals, due to the loss of my 21 year old daughter and
having to say goodbye to her at the Hospital morgue. As I have two disorders,
the one that is triggered worse than the other, is my Post Traumatic Stress
Disorder. Dr. Gill assured me that a ‘Letter of Support’ would be sent over to the
ER and upon my arrival, I was to mention it. The intake/ admittance nurses read
over my letter, and I was welcomed in with compassion by Amber and Justine.
After a long wait, in a busy ER, I was brought to the back to sit in a
comfortable recliner. I was also given much appreciated warm, flannel blankets.
The man next to me, Chris, was friendly and helpful. His wife worked at the
hospital but was on maternity leave. Later, she came to visit with their two
children. When his mom came, I was given a container of soup, for which I was
deeply appreciative! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The attending Doctor that saw me, <i>Dr. John MacGregon</i>
was attentive and kind to every patient he spoke with. As I was sitting in a
row of patients, with only a thin curtain, I was privy to knowing this. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Returning to my small car, I was elated to hear the news that
as an early Christmas gift by my mother and brother, I would spend the holidays
at a local Airbnb in Langley. I stayed in the Birch Room and it was such a luxury for me to be able to stretch out my swollen legs and feet!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdS_weJ_bPwq_1mQsc0yliLpnjJfR1Zvy1MdC0gwVMLhbryPtMVs_KVOJ2ppO8-1HlgUQ03DliOmMVY1XL_4iRBLYjLDWPcW8QTvS_bDom-1SgAbO-qMkZqObY0JpA4VYFq3DfnABbxre7cX2QULC1UfV29Bm7KHqDaS2_evzzgLn4m6-gpVCzqQCfjw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdS_weJ_bPwq_1mQsc0yliLpnjJfR1Zvy1MdC0gwVMLhbryPtMVs_KVOJ2ppO8-1HlgUQ03DliOmMVY1XL_4iRBLYjLDWPcW8QTvS_bDom-1SgAbO-qMkZqObY0JpA4VYFq3DfnABbxre7cX2QULC1UfV29Bm7KHqDaS2_evzzgLn4m6-gpVCzqQCfjw=s320" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The area was familiar to me, as I use to live in
Langley, Cloverdale and Surrey, over a ten year span. Only a few blocks away, I
also wrote and worked on my novel, in an award -winning Japanese Gardens- </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Thyme
on 43<sup>rd</sup>.</i></b></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The area holds many wonderful memories of walks we use to
take, when Shayla would come and visit. One of my favourite places to stop in,
was <b><i>Cedarbrook Bakery, </i></b>which I found still there, and I treated
myself to some favourite holiday delights. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYsLZaKjZ4Rq3XtX3McNbd0caMQfQFVtM195Am2g8f-0XPqHT4oMHvhyRt1KGnzHKSpCC6IlGFYGK4bGr4rU_poHW9gvADFitkBjeW7HHGy98IuGSWcmUKO2m22L3l2txDcFzes6gHrQ0gjS30pcGT6-h1RzW5sROR2sJg5kzRKYo4Iql8QhlRpFElUQ=s3206" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3206" data-original-width="2956" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYsLZaKjZ4Rq3XtX3McNbd0caMQfQFVtM195Am2g8f-0XPqHT4oMHvhyRt1KGnzHKSpCC6IlGFYGK4bGr4rU_poHW9gvADFitkBjeW7HHGy98IuGSWcmUKO2m22L3l2txDcFzes6gHrQ0gjS30pcGT6-h1RzW5sROR2sJg5kzRKYo4Iql8QhlRpFElUQ=s320" width="295" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My warmest welcome happened when I arrived at the place I was
staying. The Holiday hosts, Sam and Dalia treated me wonderfully, as a guest
and since there was another person staying from Germany, we had wonderful
conversations about all topics- politics, religion, children, bereavement and
even peanut butter pie! I found a lot of similarities between Dalia and I,
including our love for </span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>The Colophone Café</i></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> in Bellingham, WA.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The Colophon Cafe</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> <b><i>has
offered casual, healthful dining in the heart of the historic Fairhaven
district since 1985</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There is a connection to my daughter in all of this, as when
she was a teenager, many of a trip was made to Bellingham and area, including
our favourite café that served the most delicious Peanut Butter Pie! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I would later acquire the recipe from Dalia, who shared with
me the yummy treat from Epicurious. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In our conversation, I also explained how Shayla and I loved
to go visit <b><i>Pike Place Market</i></b> and there was an old
‘fortune-telling’ machine with the magic of Zoltar. We would burst into
laughter reading our fortunes and then head over to <b><i>Daily Dozen Doughnut
Co. </i></b>The fondest memories I have<b><i> </i></b>of these random road
trips to the USA. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">On one of my short trips to the store, I saw from afar, an
array of Jones cream soda’s. As I approached, I was excited to see on the
label, the ZOLTAR image from Pike Place, where we would visit for our
‘fortunes’. This made me smile in one of those special ways of connection from
my heart to the heavens. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguvnp9SS1p-4lZ3Ad6GssW0kOdyi4q-H9heBhvtRQXVSN1v2rB7P83YfS52-4WzZ-k4Wh66bgauHXYDkfkEZBkxioL-vpX4wiqV0QGPYT7m3atG31SUGkkwzgNJ6BPCFMHLGA5TZLefTQv-WwMU6CmNJ5jhbtXLv4wVOeiLtaf5aDTN5omdIF0-Wqcrg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguvnp9SS1p-4lZ3Ad6GssW0kOdyi4q-H9heBhvtRQXVSN1v2rB7P83YfS52-4WzZ-k4Wh66bgauHXYDkfkEZBkxioL-vpX4wiqV0QGPYT7m3atG31SUGkkwzgNJ6BPCFMHLGA5TZLefTQv-WwMU6CmNJ5jhbtXLv4wVOeiLtaf5aDTN5omdIF0-Wqcrg=s320" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Another connection I discovered was the artistic abilities we
both shared- me with my writing and Dalia, with an exceptional artistic eye for
design, colour and skills! When she showed me an outfit she had handcrafted for
Comic- Con, that had her hand glue on a gazillion sequins, her patience and
abilities astounded me! In showing me her extraordinary designs, I absolutely
loved a mini purse design with glittery wings on one side and galaxy wings on
the other! Dalia took note of this, for when I awoke Christmas morning, there
was a gift bag of wonderful goodies, that included a proper mask- for your
face- the kind you rinse off </span><span face=""Segoe UI Emoji", sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">😊</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> and
the fabulous mini-purse that has a shiny heart and a sliver of a gold moon. Dalia’s
amazing and original patterns, can be found on <b><i>Etsy</i></b> and <b><i>Instagram</i></b>,
under the name <b><i>Zagpie Designs</i></b>.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjbL4jJTbTby_eUG1TjakrHKx3Mo4TxSpdKCTEWXL7GgoalgqNpmVcOhVcm7jGlvg2-p69pVOkrlH4dBKzmB8pENyVCGiir_yEu7mdpcuYpv4y2h4e1OyVSRIlt5EnXlpSqpr0DHuc0jd-iLhayhO-RkapDP8j8dhU-Kfmm2VTaYQxcZnptSGsNRNK2-g=s2845" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2693" data-original-width="2845" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjbL4jJTbTby_eUG1TjakrHKx3Mo4TxSpdKCTEWXL7GgoalgqNpmVcOhVcm7jGlvg2-p69pVOkrlH4dBKzmB8pENyVCGiir_yEu7mdpcuYpv4y2h4e1OyVSRIlt5EnXlpSqpr0DHuc0jd-iLhayhO-RkapDP8j8dhU-Kfmm2VTaYQxcZnptSGsNRNK2-g=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhP8jKHy6jR48l8scevtYg2j5kBIdWGbXD4-n4-atUZhnlw9wQj0J0NaBjZ-EAIqQ1enV76tG0M6lE8nySyhzgdcFKXuziAd9CP9Rfp2ixT0NFfhuRVVQzWRLTrpMZvizvtnM6lEjKO31TyPxbUt-Ns50vfSqzdSIYJ5Ih5ALBpZT_8le95369w81Wu8w=s3199" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2692" data-original-width="3199" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhP8jKHy6jR48l8scevtYg2j5kBIdWGbXD4-n4-atUZhnlw9wQj0J0NaBjZ-EAIqQ1enV76tG0M6lE8nySyhzgdcFKXuziAd9CP9Rfp2ixT0NFfhuRVVQzWRLTrpMZvizvtnM6lEjKO31TyPxbUt-Ns50vfSqzdSIYJ5Ih5ALBpZT_8le95369w81Wu8w=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In return, I gave of course, what I have…two copies of my
book, for others to discover the beauty, mystery and love of Ospero Falls, BC.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Another highlight, was the amazing Christmas dinner Dalia
spent the day preparing, then served later on. This was not something that was
expected. So to share in a lovely Christmas meal with both Dalia and Sam, was
so wonderful! She made a delicious cabbage, root creamed vegetables dish that
was so good!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAeJMt0XjdNinC1CLvFyU5tXxMChCz_IOTvmXb7hxHpL9cpbp6lZRgf9F5hK5iRqUjbLF_qbPtYACxxeJ_N_un5P4Jy_mqNL0nIRcgz_gxQqOe49GPmZWrINLnrqNk5qOworwpLOX1PUxtYHhjv-bc98AxnfRnNkaIO5cl3S8BUYLlOaxmZUu3gZIkOA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAeJMt0XjdNinC1CLvFyU5tXxMChCz_IOTvmXb7hxHpL9cpbp6lZRgf9F5hK5iRqUjbLF_qbPtYACxxeJ_N_un5P4Jy_mqNL0nIRcgz_gxQqOe49GPmZWrINLnrqNk5qOworwpLOX1PUxtYHhjv-bc98AxnfRnNkaIO5cl3S8BUYLlOaxmZUu3gZIkOA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The other angel who extended their kindness was someone who
presented their heart-warming generosity! Again, they know who they are, and I
hope in reading my post, will understand just how much I was blessed in our
interactions!</span></div></span></span>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As a result of their compassion, I was able to get more
comfort and warm. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I also watched the touching movie, <b><i>Dear Evan Hansen</i></b>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghBduTh8VO7s96oZxDOhod3EgRHNcvwV4M0TEUiYvUaKUZgTLvoOi9xutHddoSImdCZbnDXU872tkAsTtzdwUQDV7twb8ikqgN5q6vKE5kqWmaVBNWyoIBpDw7gGJIV922Wnwy4HhfsmTp-z3d6IL_2zg2c37oO4IXuGWUEi9Z2djB50BmK56WAldTFg=s736" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="736" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghBduTh8VO7s96oZxDOhod3EgRHNcvwV4M0TEUiYvUaKUZgTLvoOi9xutHddoSImdCZbnDXU872tkAsTtzdwUQDV7twb8ikqgN5q6vKE5kqWmaVBNWyoIBpDw7gGJIV922Wnwy4HhfsmTp-z3d6IL_2zg2c37oO4IXuGWUEi9Z2djB50BmK56WAldTFg=w400-h325" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There was so much, even as a 50 year old woman, that I could
relate to… the song selections spoke to my inner child and I thought of how my
own previous life interruptions, affected people’s lives.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In my short time spent at this house, I could see for myself,
why my path had crossed with others. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Leaving the Airbnb was hard to do, and I had even looked into
staying another few days, but due to its popularity, it was booked! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">On my departure, I was prayed over and given one last fantastic
recommendation…to go for a bite to eat at <b><i>Brogan’s Diner</i></b>, in
Langley. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The first thing that greeted me was Betty Boop (my daughter
was an avid collector of this fun loving icon). The whole restaurant is decked
out in memorabilia of other legendary figures. As a lover of positive quotes,
there were many to be found. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxRP-0J8Gl_QIS1Y50TjLLsUmQhZpNSw8I-JNZltZYvNYUvwy4zjPNlhCBw5yqOkFu24l-zdWtpjSDJTQPhf_l8u82LGsXaT6n8PbVCqaVwawFc-jMEGnvMQQTmUJhGzBDMTjZTjMAls3qIGcXnmuMTQdAFXv-z4LdyhoK110ecyBM2yxdtHUZhqBAvg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxRP-0J8Gl_QIS1Y50TjLLsUmQhZpNSw8I-JNZltZYvNYUvwy4zjPNlhCBw5yqOkFu24l-zdWtpjSDJTQPhf_l8u82LGsXaT6n8PbVCqaVwawFc-jMEGnvMQQTmUJhGzBDMTjZTjMAls3qIGcXnmuMTQdAFXv-z4LdyhoK110ecyBM2yxdtHUZhqBAvg=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgyIzKFk68TWYJzDKoqRw3kcSkNWG4WClzrOvC0kdj7zLYPKeyDyCFeMAeJG7Jw9_1qoD_aLlYxXeVNN9g35CssAOG7qKDB_R65x5gez9Az1_H0o15heor94m0Mi8kxXe-QQmiAsx6CoSNBHVV1S806C0IYGi-iPbw6EME69LkApnN8VqtVcCS2jRdkWw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgyIzKFk68TWYJzDKoqRw3kcSkNWG4WClzrOvC0kdj7zLYPKeyDyCFeMAeJG7Jw9_1qoD_aLlYxXeVNN9g35CssAOG7qKDB_R65x5gez9Az1_H0o15heor94m0Mi8kxXe-QQmiAsx6CoSNBHVV1S806C0IYGi-iPbw6EME69LkApnN8VqtVcCS2jRdkWw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The day I arrived for something to eat, the waitress ( a
mature woman), was serving the whole restaurant. In doing her best, she was
trying to manage many tables and when a couple came in, she seated them and
shared she would be with them shortly. As she loaded up her arms to deliver
several plates of delicious food, the couple stood and left in a huff. I could
tell this affected her personally and she was upset. When she came to my table
to serve me my wonderful breakfast, I commented, “You are doing an amazing job
and thank you for being here today!” From beyond her rimmed glasses, I could
see her hold back her tears as she muttered, “Thank you so much!”</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When I went to leave, I gave her an extra five dollars on top
of regular tip. She was thrilled and I thought about how little it takes to
make someone’s day. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEirKIFxo4g3VfDrmER0oAgCLbGcHQbijpeFQcTiymWZi-kbhzI002IL_5ijX4gwN_1U3c_KOHrWgLEGcbXGFxdZocXpgta-u3o8LvP7A1SKni-h1FzGxVS9HflsstwkkC4D5oXGtB8GKuBh-ShFEk02HQJYj5V-tUcSMXBLGgdOyvjRV-r3DC2L3cVr6g=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEirKIFxo4g3VfDrmER0oAgCLbGcHQbijpeFQcTiymWZi-kbhzI002IL_5ijX4gwN_1U3c_KOHrWgLEGcbXGFxdZocXpgta-u3o8LvP7A1SKni-h1FzGxVS9HflsstwkkC4D5oXGtB8GKuBh-ShFEk02HQJYj5V-tUcSMXBLGgdOyvjRV-r3DC2L3cVr6g=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5rXZSPHsc2b_TOJnrvdxUMxEeTr1RINYwFaFOyd_HHs5Fw5WoHrnXcmtzmmIbi8uknKANMzc9xbCnyVpH7A4UGMunySowZlAb8EHv2M5dBCcAkedTBmQbHyUXkCMge6teVUAsSbzl1BP-UBkMcqXyS140fcFniOQDKVejqH9NFSP5akv0_d7pATIzbA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5rXZSPHsc2b_TOJnrvdxUMxEeTr1RINYwFaFOyd_HHs5Fw5WoHrnXcmtzmmIbi8uknKANMzc9xbCnyVpH7A4UGMunySowZlAb8EHv2M5dBCcAkedTBmQbHyUXkCMge6teVUAsSbzl1BP-UBkMcqXyS140fcFniOQDKVejqH9NFSP5akv0_d7pATIzbA=s320" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Often the most valuable of gifts come in a lengthy
phone-call, from a cherished friend and sister in Christ, as in my telephone
conversation from Leanna. She is a devoted soul, to her church, her family,
work and friends. When we were talking, laughing and even through tears, the
one thing that Leanna said to me, resonated…she spoke of how all of my
interactions, had brought me many blessings, but most of all it had given me
moments of dignity that were overflowing with</span><b style="font-size: 12pt;"><i> <span style="color: red;">LOVE</span></i></b><span style="color: red; font-size: 12pt;">.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiPGGeK41K05VFVeEknEZE7VaQywr01vh6kI3A-ZQSJjuFGFMxR5eyfcpxYcKFc7eHmEBQJfosbQ6lqHYpEPwK1zNfF-8_EWSU1iQCKzr97a4UpYty1-oxQp1ybNDE9JA8KljmHJ8HcMImYPF-zGsSH_MC_NQq3x3-CuL2HkdN__2_5-o2QxP74ym6RiQ=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiPGGeK41K05VFVeEknEZE7VaQywr01vh6kI3A-ZQSJjuFGFMxR5eyfcpxYcKFc7eHmEBQJfosbQ6lqHYpEPwK1zNfF-8_EWSU1iQCKzr97a4UpYty1-oxQp1ybNDE9JA8KljmHJ8HcMImYPF-zGsSH_MC_NQq3x3-CuL2HkdN__2_5-o2QxP74ym6RiQ=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little token of my Appreciation that I left behind at the Airbnb (Gratitude pebble and a small plaque that reads: "<span style="color: red;">Home is where Love lives.</span>" <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It was when I take the time to unwind myself from the role of
being an outcast, that I am reminded of all the continual, beautiful,
interactions serve, such a wonderful purpose in my unsettled life. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I also am most grateful for the outpouring of prayers that have held my name and those who continue to offer their love and support! </span><p></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It had me think for a moment about this question that was
presented to me:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">What if God was not here on earth? <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">You think people can be cruel now, imagine us
without the presence of our Creator. You think we are brutal to each other no,
imagine the world without the Holy Spirit. You think there is loneliness,
despair and guilt now…imagine the life without the touch of Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">No forgiveness, No Hope. No acts of kindness. No
words of Love. No more food given in his name. No more songs sung to his praise.
No more deeds done in his honour. If God took away his angels, his grace, his
promise of eternity and those serving hearts, what would the world be like? <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In two words- pure hell. No one to comfort you
and no music to soothe you. A world where poets don’t write of love and
minstrels don’t sing of hope; for love and hope were passengers on the last
ship. The final vessel has departed, and the anthem of hell has only two words:
“if only.” <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">~ Just Like Jesus Max Lucado<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In the end, this Christmas season, due to the kindest of
hearts, giftings and love, I learned from the timeless holiday classics…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I became Linus, reunited with my blanket of comfort, my heart
grew three sizes, and I embraced the winter tales lesson of self-acceptance- in
that even though I am different, I <i>STILL</i> have something to offer.</span>
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">By TL Alton <o:p></o:p></span></p></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com3Langley, BC, Canada49.1041779 -122.660351920.793944063821158 -157.8166019 77.414411736178849 -87.5041019tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-30406285526882479032021-12-13T14:36:00.004-08:002021-12-13T14:48:48.861-08:00FOR THE LOVE OF SHINE!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhcVPPcDCsBvByGm_JvDYiGvTKEYwFgU3DwxV3g-rh3_GmQLSnPuGo9XoQfcHJ4CWMsAhkSCBnZNOLd-AYXlbWrvSl7a09hnhaUhU7Kq2LcHbaK_qyLKN5s5Z7QcA09lvngdWlOS_uv9xHNry9eRbJEXBGqDfOnsyA_MBA6EoLumYzNXquGlh6QGWpRAQ=s403" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="403" data-original-width="403" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhcVPPcDCsBvByGm_JvDYiGvTKEYwFgU3DwxV3g-rh3_GmQLSnPuGo9XoQfcHJ4CWMsAhkSCBnZNOLd-AYXlbWrvSl7a09hnhaUhU7Kq2LcHbaK_qyLKN5s5Z7QcA09lvngdWlOS_uv9xHNry9eRbJEXBGqDfOnsyA_MBA6EoLumYzNXquGlh6QGWpRAQ=w200-h200" width="200" /></a></div>Just knowing someone else contains that spectacular SHINE
can change everything and make it possible for you to SHINE too.<div><p class="MsoNormal">Standing on the grassy pathway, I was swathed in an endless
array of shimmers; a tapestry of crimson, blended in with hues of gold and
silver, rose coloured and emerald sparks of light.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A stark contrast from sorrow, tears and heartache that had
accompanied me to LUMAGICA in Surrey. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgroDMJYzZ8o-DIfmBxC0fDPBmYAsjWkC50_A4OVg6Lv5x8OuIKxp_cbUKTvNlBo69l_daEj41pLm-nG8C40XAnkUGLWJsnNIwhqzdVL_NU9VeOokD-lyVVPxDF1xbFVXO-AXLSXHPhh9ZcO8VQIbyiqutApzJ99aoM3PiSJuAPrTMha7BfUDCSmvs7zg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgroDMJYzZ8o-DIfmBxC0fDPBmYAsjWkC50_A4OVg6Lv5x8OuIKxp_cbUKTvNlBo69l_daEj41pLm-nG8C40XAnkUGLWJsnNIwhqzdVL_NU9VeOokD-lyVVPxDF1xbFVXO-AXLSXHPhh9ZcO8VQIbyiqutApzJ99aoM3PiSJuAPrTMha7BfUDCSmvs7zg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">It was by chance I discovered this extraordinary event and
was gifted by the Organizers and Staff of LUMAGICA with a complimentary ticket,
free parking and food voucher! From the beginning, Caroline handled
everything with compassion. </p><p class="MsoNormal">The generosity of MK Illumination Canada (Anne-
Marie and Alex), was such a blessing- on what is the most difficult day of the
year for me- December 12<sup>th </sup></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This year, 2021- marks the 10 years of my daughter’s untimely, tragic
death. Yet instead of hovering over that day, I am going to take a few words of insight from a young man I met at the event who said: <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“If I live in the past- there is regret…”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Therefore, this post is about the streaming light that
pierced my darkness and wrapped me in its glorious brilliance! <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKB9wuDP0cA4bDr9T_zvlthAxjXkwxr-1YQTIt4zaDF_H3BQ8i-uY6_hCR7zmJWxrKSup6GPZ47y1AGzAhQ4VBfZflUw8Je6MhBMPPILBZlMftOk5gUyFHkkeDYH1xXhH2isqLUb1aI1vS4H8l2DkII_1qWVnxHVevV6jO7ipms9SAZZdIwRHFhAS8dw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKB9wuDP0cA4bDr9T_zvlthAxjXkwxr-1YQTIt4zaDF_H3BQ8i-uY6_hCR7zmJWxrKSup6GPZ47y1AGzAhQ4VBfZflUw8Je6MhBMPPILBZlMftOk5gUyFHkkeDYH1xXhH2isqLUb1aI1vS4H8l2DkII_1qWVnxHVevV6jO7ipms9SAZZdIwRHFhAS8dw=s320" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Arriving at LUMAGICA in Surrey, BC, I was welcomed by the
brightest lights, multitude of colours and the friendliest staff!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">All Covid Protocols were in place- from checking individuals
to ensure proof of double Vaccines, to a one way enter and exit system, along
with a tapering of people on the pathways; all staff worked hard to ensure a
smooth journey, along the way! <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In speaking with Site Director Guy Ciprian, he took the time
to speak with me and let me share more about Shayla. He guided me and directed
me to the pathways. In a gesture of kindness, after I shared how far of a drive
I had back to my car camping spot in North Vancouver, he offered me to stay
parked in the outside lot, which had security and two portaloos. As I was
emotionally drained and tired, I appreciated his empathy to my situation.
Later, I was able to find a safe place to be and sleep in my car. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Reflecting on my amazing experience of shimmering lights,
constructed in an array of exceptional design, I watched in awe as others
interacted with the illuminated displays. A little girl, walked up to a teddy bear, took her mitten off, and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>shook the
paw. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIL7ufoTB1Jane6TdwwPG2p8Pq87bzvC_Cr_GoilLR2LdzyS4TbfxxXhjujqsWPVdLYe26JGxQPJNDXpcbrHUZgtZdU7YW72tvxsb6Efq9ET2l7zJU_kZv6bdVx0y-uq5JHwSfHenHmkWmC-FcvGRiFOBnWOXZKL9Nu4LC8ekrX2EP8YozlvfBonukhw=s4032" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIL7ufoTB1Jane6TdwwPG2p8Pq87bzvC_Cr_GoilLR2LdzyS4TbfxxXhjujqsWPVdLYe26JGxQPJNDXpcbrHUZgtZdU7YW72tvxsb6Efq9ET2l7zJU_kZv6bdVx0y-uq5JHwSfHenHmkWmC-FcvGRiFOBnWOXZKL9Nu4LC8ekrX2EP8YozlvfBonukhw=s320" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">This had all of us smile and emit a collective sigh of awe’s. Couples were
snuggling together in the opening of a twinkling heart and an older couple
stole a kiss, underneath a tree that was aglow with shine!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi9yx-shQ7NYoBEkeugb9yaHHMGkSn32K6LQDmb7MzxnX-Lr__4-dqEoroOQNtr59VbcCc60JoRHTPSZLs8r0dHFM9ajDcZngt47N2lCCRZVGq0uf8H90hOhfkcEO-1hYLNwksqLgu4kbz4fzfBaUF1oHeKXe_uqt-0JKHpTd_Kq7AoPJcAx1h2DQap7A=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi9yx-shQ7NYoBEkeugb9yaHHMGkSn32K6LQDmb7MzxnX-Lr__4-dqEoroOQNtr59VbcCc60JoRHTPSZLs8r0dHFM9ajDcZngt47N2lCCRZVGq0uf8H90hOhfkcEO-1hYLNwksqLgu4kbz4fzfBaUF1oHeKXe_uqt-0JKHpTd_Kq7AoPJcAx1h2DQap7A=s320" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">All along, Shayla was on my mind and a quote came to mind…</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: red;"><b>The thing about moments is that you’ll miss them if your
always running after the next one</b></span></i>. ~ Alec Lightwood<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So, as I scanned every display created out of passion and amazing
concepts of all things Christmas, I was treated with the memories of when
Shayla use to come and visit during the holidays. She would burst through the
door, with such a fervour that would make some Santa’s envious and declare that
the festivities could begin…now that she had brought the party! It was here the
laughter would begin, as she started to burst into dance and shout out a
boisterous “WOOT-WOOT!” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Shayla taught me that there is no such thing as normal-
what is it that actually defines being okay?<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">During her visits, one of our cherished things to do, was to
go see the festive, dazzling displays at VanDusen Festival of Lights. In
speaking with Guy, he shared the special connection: <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>The same company that did the spectacular lights at
VanDusen Botanical Gardens, was the very same for LUMAGICA. <o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This made my heart light up, as it was comforting to know
the incredible link of the two. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I remember how when we were out, if there was someone in
need, Shayla would take out her own change and gift a stranger, some kindness. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjm2BbbSxskPAjCm1GLszoqSWWEXZv2szaWvuEL_OsRed8n_OWK7VYDJofOK1_vwq_nOdNsFq3E3YZkKE_KnEuPs11dGRuwoMMqKG88PKKUcPdN9Ei0et7u71jEZV4v9mcuuc7qryVrK7sF_3IXlXkXC4ht_fHhlTj9IbpF2Fo5SFkloOlACSNnnlXWA=s845" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="845" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjm2BbbSxskPAjCm1GLszoqSWWEXZv2szaWvuEL_OsRed8n_OWK7VYDJofOK1_vwq_nOdNsFq3E3YZkKE_KnEuPs11dGRuwoMMqKG88PKKUcPdN9Ei0et7u71jEZV4v9mcuuc7qryVrK7sF_3IXlXkXC4ht_fHhlTj9IbpF2Fo5SFkloOlACSNnnlXWA=s320" width="214" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">I had raised my daughter, to always walk a mile in someone
else’s shoes, even if you were standing alone in the crowd. I taught her the
value of the truth, and never do you leave the world bitter because of your
experiences- but thankful for the moments that you can SHINE!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In looking back on these past 2 weeks of displacement, I
have met many kindred souls.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Last night, at LUMAGICA in Surrey, it was more than having a
brilliant light experience. It was to arrive raw, exposed and fragile to
others. While I brought my grief, they poured out countless moments of
benevolence. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the circumstances I am now finding myself in again, I am
choosing to stand up for the truth, even when ‘doing the right thing,’ sometimes
doesn’t feel like it….because often I’ve found myself alone in this journey.
Misjudged and misunderstood. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Yet with my daughter, it was different…she saw the
marginalized, those oppressed and silenced, then came alongside them and said:
“I see you.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This happened a lot last night at the event I attended. From
several young ladies who served me, Kira, Jaclyn and Jelayne. When I was eating
my wonderful meal (pictured), one of these ladies (who is a Paramedic), came over to my
table and later generously shared some of her bagged packed lunch with me- to take back to my car! <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1z1X8QfAiyMQJdI4g5U5UCVgDFpAYpHwDv9n11lpt-mqcNAxeSiGmRw6yysrCdd7vv7o6rcmWC9D1ZENMTPsXLh71SvW9jcR_c8a7TutlHJtRloQwRKRWFOmxhGuyQIgZm9YDjYlLu3XZwfGyXapEWKkFraNC19g4Z7Kz9GHixDWKafwGba30zu-URA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1z1X8QfAiyMQJdI4g5U5UCVgDFpAYpHwDv9n11lpt-mqcNAxeSiGmRw6yysrCdd7vv7o6rcmWC9D1ZENMTPsXLh71SvW9jcR_c8a7TutlHJtRloQwRKRWFOmxhGuyQIgZm9YDjYlLu3XZwfGyXapEWKkFraNC19g4Z7Kz9GHixDWKafwGba30zu-URA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Another patron I spoke with, had a lovely conversation with
me and offered to buy me something- which I declined. I explained the
generosity of the vendor coupon from LUMAGICA and the remembrance of the day.
To have a conversation, when I spend my entire day and nights alone, was such a
beautiful gift.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There was also a young man singer/songwriter Clay Scott, who was
performing and singing songs. His beautiful voice filled the space with harmony. We had a heartfelt conversation and I had shared
about Shayla’s love of music. I requested any song and gave him a few of my
daughter’s favourite musicians. As a sat back down and he performed Tom Petty’s
“Free Falling,” he never could have know that particular song was Shayla’s
absolute favourite! <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh4G2zpy8CXceMyZCMx7W_3LHgi3_JZNOl8UcG48r1BXKQjHWD-O_s3IPWlipM0nro4jIORXIoAZoN0z-OUaqpACOdBwKIJ0Gs_U-vP4z95fw7VjeskepA5AeeycecULw8mqsK6toEiQWeCi_1oNXb4LD7ams6lqzvFx9qe26ajSP14dTGz_8hJ3ds8jQ=s800" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh4G2zpy8CXceMyZCMx7W_3LHgi3_JZNOl8UcG48r1BXKQjHWD-O_s3IPWlipM0nro4jIORXIoAZoN0z-OUaqpACOdBwKIJ0Gs_U-vP4z95fw7VjeskepA5AeeycecULw8mqsK6toEiQWeCi_1oNXb4LD7ams6lqzvFx9qe26ajSP14dTGz_8hJ3ds8jQ=s320" width="214" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Afterwards, he came up to me and we spoke some more. I had
shared about my book, “Under the Sitka Tree, “ with many, including Clay. He
had said he wanted to purchase my novel (which meant so very much to me), but
also he had a ‘gifting’ for me. Clay then tucked some bills under the cover of
my Sitka book, sitting beside me. He said, “This is part of my tips, I want you
to have! Please go and buy yourself some meals.”</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYOnOCJRZm_WUyqmBqT4uLShWxAuQkojOthoHMXjxFViUPb9gxWXxSjd8XAPucRuG5KQYnWxqR2F6v5OAlJJOMmTXuRRp6Rl2ArL1Ec65Y-TxKm9d9b0xa6xrpWFG8MX6eKG90JgAkdiFipfACwvqznrxjkWy7v6vENHnJsnzkhsZUHmiN1XZOkp0RPg=s522" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="500" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYOnOCJRZm_WUyqmBqT4uLShWxAuQkojOthoHMXjxFViUPb9gxWXxSjd8XAPucRuG5KQYnWxqR2F6v5OAlJJOMmTXuRRp6Rl2ArL1Ec65Y-TxKm9d9b0xa6xrpWFG8MX6eKG90JgAkdiFipfACwvqznrxjkWy7v6vENHnJsnzkhsZUHmiN1XZOkp0RPg=w192-h200" width="192" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I burst into tears and at first refused, yet Clay insisted
and after thanking him profusely, later I counted it and he had gifted me
$50.00! That was his earnings, he had worked for the tips and here Clay was
thinking of helping out another soul!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgtdei5grFC1lpV6dcD95vZBIuFWxNmbq3iCYkNmxhNH3-0_mqDo1ZmQ80HzieRPJgMjNMvQLhceamND8kBNL20e_lsRQw3p2HGQGYhdQx16JAfiDCEewq7Qf2yut2rB62Phg7HNYPsyhhyQPDucxGd0HMZEFDhMj78vYZSEDaCueFtVZ1RaXN28i4tA=s2694" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2694" data-original-width="1886" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgtdei5grFC1lpV6dcD95vZBIuFWxNmbq3iCYkNmxhNH3-0_mqDo1ZmQ80HzieRPJgMjNMvQLhceamND8kBNL20e_lsRQw3p2HGQGYhdQx16JAfiDCEewq7Qf2yut2rB62Phg7HNYPsyhhyQPDucxGd0HMZEFDhMj78vYZSEDaCueFtVZ1RaXN28i4tA=s320" width="224" /></a></div><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>When the night had ended, I tried in vain, to find my car.
Another staff member, named Raymond, working Security…walked the grounds until
I was safely reunited with my vehicle.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Later, as I sorted out the passenger seat of my car, to
sleep in…I thought about the value of light, the beauty of remembrance and the
depths of compassion. I cherished the stories I had collected within my heart
and those who bravely shared they too had been displaced- at one point of their
lives. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">All of what I experienced reminds me…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><b>WE are Not defined by a lack of what we leave behind;
rather we are remembered for what we stood for! </b><o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Thank you for the joy, brought to my life on my darkest day!
<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiB71lERlhN0Sm98oEdWTho3ChX_7lp_p9sCUwxZca4pkHOZf4Ziff60z2e0uvxNAvWmSPNGQIWaRN8BnqkEO3z3F0Uaw7nJpDOLMqrmHfq3tTDxnvpj3mJeLBsk0ASkUvfqZuobS-PGY23HjRFyhZ55d9obikLwq6xFo6izy7qS18Ywu1i-RZ_5ijlwQ=s925" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="925" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiB71lERlhN0Sm98oEdWTho3ChX_7lp_p9sCUwxZca4pkHOZf4Ziff60z2e0uvxNAvWmSPNGQIWaRN8BnqkEO3z3F0Uaw7nJpDOLMqrmHfq3tTDxnvpj3mJeLBsk0ASkUvfqZuobS-PGY23HjRFyhZ55d9obikLwq6xFo6izy7qS18Ywu1i-RZ_5ijlwQ=s320" width="195" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">In reflecting on the 10<sup>th</sup> Anniversary of my
daughter’s passing, I was able to embrace the SHINE that was shared by all
individuals and the magnificent, illuminated creations! With everything I was
blessed with, I am humbled and full of gratitude. For the real gifting of this
season unto me…saw a mother’s mourning let in the cracks of light.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgJvqZiX7CzUBceGePOYQKzId3XE7XCYm-ne064FizobcaNcvTDw39iKewN3FR-2FEFNFLhZQWVImOHsJhNWL7XGEvX8Yx56OTWUN0QKec0tUkcXzi135yxFhY0_RCHpK6Lyqn4bAsaTL8eSOksAtX2MPCossww3QQpHPIQSbHY_WdCoUrSC6Pvpkr0g=s564" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="564" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgJvqZiX7CzUBceGePOYQKzId3XE7XCYm-ne064FizobcaNcvTDw39iKewN3FR-2FEFNFLhZQWVImOHsJhNWL7XGEvX8Yx56OTWUN0QKec0tUkcXzi135yxFhY0_RCHpK6Lyqn4bAsaTL8eSOksAtX2MPCossww3QQpHPIQSbHY_WdCoUrSC6Pvpkr0g=w200-h200" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">By TL Alton</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p></div>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com017607-17905 62 Ave, Surrey, BC V3S 1V3, Canada49.115905000000012 -122.73144720.805671163821167 -157.887697 77.426138836178865 -87.575197tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7928320109795111292.post-44616493673182510342021-12-04T15:48:00.010-08:002021-12-06T05:55:39.077-08:00BREAKTHROUGH IN A BOX <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyOnZRVSX-OXY4TVF-rZds3vaP6A1u7XT45kv36ydtGiv095r4Kt3r2iRavu0wiVfdEi7oFH9f3xjAoJ4WhHTlaNrU_LolIzabH5TL9F6oLm_6JhypedwhWGPjU8rWWt_oE71qZYKmgFLKwoMvGFNK-vLnajH-rPSlv7AsX8FEgfO6KI_ZUCVciMb0tw=s1080" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyOnZRVSX-OXY4TVF-rZds3vaP6A1u7XT45kv36ydtGiv095r4Kt3r2iRavu0wiVfdEi7oFH9f3xjAoJ4WhHTlaNrU_LolIzabH5TL9F6oLm_6JhypedwhWGPjU8rWWt_oE71qZYKmgFLKwoMvGFNK-vLnajH-rPSlv7AsX8FEgfO6KI_ZUCVciMb0tw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="font-size: 12pt;">Often when
something is broken, we will spend much time in navigating our pain through
means that are only numbing the agony- instead of realizing the answer to all
the madness- is really within our reach</b><span style="font-size: 12pt;">. <b>~ TL Alton</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Ever since
the day my daughter’s life ended on December 12<sup>th</sup>, 2011, I have been
a spider caught in a web of deceit, heartache and displacement. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I have kept
secret certain circumstances regarding the death of Shayla private and will
continue to keep some information confidential, in hopes one day the whole
truth will finally come out, about what really happened. I have been fortunate
that over time, an Investigator has gathered information, which can prove my
daughter’s crash, was no accident. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I believe,
it will only be a matter of time before those responsible, will be held
accountable- for their roles, which to the tragic death of my child. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEitSpLUJPK7bGGq0dw57ZmSaWBTnsDaRQv3E1_wr35RCa-kreWgrIYM01lL5WJUB_hQcBixqvSJEchxYHVlpZEPiBxorZOsRGJOwXBrRHoaJuQ4gkmcBoDtqrPmqAEO4V3Z0mSLM6icKEFO-Af2ZqJYIrduyqVAq7d82Z2_KfDBlsFL3EjI_biMQhY-IA=s800" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="450" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEitSpLUJPK7bGGq0dw57ZmSaWBTnsDaRQv3E1_wr35RCa-kreWgrIYM01lL5WJUB_hQcBixqvSJEchxYHVlpZEPiBxorZOsRGJOwXBrRHoaJuQ4gkmcBoDtqrPmqAEO4V3Z0mSLM6icKEFO-Af2ZqJYIrduyqVAq7d82Z2_KfDBlsFL3EjI_biMQhY-IA=s320" width="180" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My blog post
isn’t entirely about this, in fact…my entry is about something that finally
broke within me, a revelation so eye-opening…. I now better understand why I am
writing this from a place of displacement- again.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In sharing
the following, I would like to mention those also struggling prior to the
holidays. Those whose homes were flooded and ravaged by the waters, who lost
their home and whose lives have forever changed! <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">I want to
say Thank you to the farmers I have spoke with. Through their tears, </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">they have shared about their farmlands and
futures that are unknown. My heart goes out to those whose farm animals
perished, whose structures collapsed and were washed away by the storms. Their
livelihoods have been altered and they need our support!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIoXPInbaEC3UAAheHqRK9uDduwuZPoHeDCsYJCbGUoRfxGn1-xWf2Fi2ma6JVJIdlATAd0ZnOcYa4mgRbTToQ3arfIKicov4tjspSFFsoSwHoyFXi4ULQu3GcilStrK05jF7qyKDzVZDe-8zAr_9wtcPyUptrAyoNxwEJ0lyYT1VjPrd30qUTNLos1g=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1224" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIoXPInbaEC3UAAheHqRK9uDduwuZPoHeDCsYJCbGUoRfxGn1-xWf2Fi2ma6JVJIdlATAd0ZnOcYa4mgRbTToQ3arfIKicov4tjspSFFsoSwHoyFXi4ULQu3GcilStrK05jF7qyKDzVZDe-8zAr_9wtcPyUptrAyoNxwEJ0lyYT1VjPrd30qUTNLos1g=s320" width="191" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Mental
health is escalating and to those front line workers like Natasha at Save-On
Foods in Capilano, I thank you! I was witness to your compassionate and
beautiful, caring heart, to those in need!</span></span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Our
province, our Country and our world is in crisis, and I have prayed for all of
those affected, wishing I could do more!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In
connection to release of matters of my heart, which go back ten years, I know
this: It</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> is not going to change the fact that my
daughter is gone.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">What I hope
in my post, is for people to not judge me, for what they think they know about
my journey. I would rather have people see there is far more to the
circumstances and sad story of a young girl, trapped and submerged in her
vehicle on December 12<sup>th</sup>, 2011. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That due to
a several conversations prior to her passing, my daughter provided the answers
that many have no idea about. Her words have haunted me for the past ten years
and I want others that are ‘responsible’ for what transpired, to know, I have
never let go of the<i> real</i> truth. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidyoypDVcurYm4YcVbkB5BamwJg5Ri3IcYpZT3U6XKDqeOkrXtwmpAlty9aBp1baOH4v5yP0LH69UegnYHHJ_nh6Jqlb8h7InrXhNEkWZTSVUzjB4quJFyA0K4rNqJMGyXEpWBZNv7WTTbG4iBa93eDt9bP9nPgLFkqN5yb8jc-5ltTyjiQQZbLLjc0w=s2719" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1157" data-original-width="2719" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidyoypDVcurYm4YcVbkB5BamwJg5Ri3IcYpZT3U6XKDqeOkrXtwmpAlty9aBp1baOH4v5yP0LH69UegnYHHJ_nh6Jqlb8h7InrXhNEkWZTSVUzjB4quJFyA0K4rNqJMGyXEpWBZNv7WTTbG4iBa93eDt9bP9nPgLFkqN5yb8jc-5ltTyjiQQZbLLjc0w=w400-h170" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The whole reality of the matter is this...Shayla called me on Dec 9th
from Kamloops (where she lived and was in her third year of attending Thompson
Rivers University) to say she was driving to Kelowna /McKinley area, to see a new
baby that was born. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The devastating part for me- is Shayla was supposed to go on reading
break- on a Greyhound bus and travel to Kelowna...but she couldn't wait! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">At first, I told her no way in hell are you driving the winter
roads! She laughed and I will never forget her response...<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #351c75;">“Momma, one day you will have to learn to let me go!"</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">As I type these words out, it is crushing on my heart!</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">I asked if she had cleaned out her car as being a University Student,
she always carried around her books, etc. She said this:</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">"Oh momma, I just packed for the weekend....I only have a box of
stuff for the Thrift Store that was put in the back and I'm running out of
time, so I will drop it off in Kelowna." <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">As I type this, I am so upset that I never questioned if that deadly box was
taped shut, closed up, or asked her to put it in her trunk instead!!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">I want to just scream back my words: No babygirl, check the box...<b><i>Please</i></b>...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">Here's some background info...after my daughter died, ‘friends’ of hers
had someone they know dive into the Reservoir and retrieve Shayla’s personal
belongings. The Police had no idea, they were never contacted and nor was I,
until after the fact. Shayla’s cell phone was never found, yet would
mysteriously re-appear, back in Kamloops- after her death.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">A North American Engineer, was hired and gave a detailed report of what
happened on the day Shayla’s car ended up submerged in the frozen waters of
McKinley Reservoir. The report I have, states the untapped, unclosed box of
goods for the Thrift Store, came open as Shayla drove into a deep hairpin
corner. The contents opened up and spilled forward under her seat and something
rolled under the break, preventing my daughter, from being able to step on the
break pedal. Her speed accelerated and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shayla
lost control of her car! The report shows, in a panic and out of sheer
desperation, she tried to correct the cars alignment, yet it was too late!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">I also have a more details and an Investigators report that Shayla’s car
crash and death were preventable. The other contents of this report is being
kept private and sealed, until charges in the matter can be laid. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">There also is an eerie and disturbing fact that $25,000 Life Insurance
Policy was taken out on my daughter( not by me)….and it was cashed in, right
after her death! It was also kept hidden from me, until it was discovered that
a said individual did their best to deny it’s existence, until the truth was
revealed. Prior to her death, Shayla had me as her mother, a beneficiary on her
University Life Insurance Policy. I was removed- without knowledge- until I
spoke with Shayla, and she confided in me, she had been convinced to switch
over her Policy to someone in her life. I never thought anything about it, as
she was only 21 and it did not matter to me, as she had made a young adult
decision. I also was told her car had been privately worked- only days before
her trip- by the said person who collected her Life Insurance. </span><o:p style="background-color: white;"></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjknL7EqK2UrQWyuG92sYYisqkhc3ziFQbhZ-tKPRRhxYTCxwj3kz4x19QW3GlV9RTkYTCEEldLRyKSED2ES0VsVGKfuo_sPv5S80-483VXhiT14gtss-UqSUZSxcySF5xiMG13RtgKkbo6yEoODxjTEg-jhFj5tkp1WoEJDxQy6K1ZmLVXfxdj-3eFHA=s1200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="744" data-original-width="1200" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjknL7EqK2UrQWyuG92sYYisqkhc3ziFQbhZ-tKPRRhxYTCxwj3kz4x19QW3GlV9RTkYTCEEldLRyKSED2ES0VsVGKfuo_sPv5S80-483VXhiT14gtss-UqSUZSxcySF5xiMG13RtgKkbo6yEoODxjTEg-jhFj5tkp1WoEJDxQy6K1ZmLVXfxdj-3eFHA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">In my opinion, these actions all add up to negligence and I will leave
it at that.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">There are also many inconsistences about her travels, the purpose and
the outcome. </span><o:p style="background-color: white;"></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjY8-YwkT6-rDy8jk5tlGP1MRb8n0WhNrYKqlDIwrYEJUKMHNa7se_07unmDu9BV1eDtI7bx9x3t7zvoKY1YxcezGOdhyD0oJ_f2lDjD8Jh7-m-nNoqtXXNVb2W6p0324ie4rzMF-JVhJ9AHqJ2di8KjPakdxPA8caatWM0CdgVRUGvvE_gH8tehNgROw=s793" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="793" data-original-width="595" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjY8-YwkT6-rDy8jk5tlGP1MRb8n0WhNrYKqlDIwrYEJUKMHNa7se_07unmDu9BV1eDtI7bx9x3t7zvoKY1YxcezGOdhyD0oJ_f2lDjD8Jh7-m-nNoqtXXNVb2W6p0324ie4rzMF-JVhJ9AHqJ2di8KjPakdxPA8caatWM0CdgVRUGvvE_gH8tehNgROw=s320" width="240" /></a></div><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><span>Consequently, my post is to raise awareness and my belief to this day,
something more nefarious happened to my daughter and there was a butterfly
effect that occurred with me, due to Shayla’s ‘car crash.’</span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">Seven years after my daughter had died, I tried my best to carry on. Yet
the burden I have felt, over the box that was placed in Shayla’s car, the life
insurance and her vehicle worked on- only days before her road trip- have
shattered my life!</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLH-eYMQLLEOYVQL1Jnqi9rsg3d2TbeZxSIFyP-p0rMiC-Ae8AtYudCrysYCD5u_9BiYDc2s5igXyzDjfFiVXNkKdK0hNaAdDSvCNDQtKhI6zbbeQrFLCvEWNZjX1OPrV9NhrFCg8S73sIXiV_U8Y5G0rTTHiEIC8wNXHbKCOqPHqV6qZebgV6Q5-znw=s1080" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLH-eYMQLLEOYVQL1Jnqi9rsg3d2TbeZxSIFyP-p0rMiC-Ae8AtYudCrysYCD5u_9BiYDc2s5igXyzDjfFiVXNkKdK0hNaAdDSvCNDQtKhI6zbbeQrFLCvEWNZjX1OPrV9NhrFCg8S73sIXiV_U8Y5G0rTTHiEIC8wNXHbKCOqPHqV6qZebgV6Q5-znw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">Later, I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and the
damage to my mental health, has been extensive.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0aJLdsgNdBRpSRrL3Z48CRvAlPqVaLzqFmJhI3e8JPYI5elqo5MKJMTNwlK6Krd4AenpzHGNjpMwsQNxSAWIXHZ31bXeRT__5eJyWeJJ7TRNb6UQ6DpHHBskzOz-jzQzVjilGr4SDQWPJprMkdQIqnEjefEq1m3_Tds5k-oUs0D5Q68Ho8A0nm5J7RQ=s1417" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1417" data-original-width="1417" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0aJLdsgNdBRpSRrL3Z48CRvAlPqVaLzqFmJhI3e8JPYI5elqo5MKJMTNwlK6Krd4AenpzHGNjpMwsQNxSAWIXHZ31bXeRT__5eJyWeJJ7TRNb6UQ6DpHHBskzOz-jzQzVjilGr4SDQWPJprMkdQIqnEjefEq1m3_Tds5k-oUs0D5Q68Ho8A0nm5J7RQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-size: 12pt;">In the past five years, I have been displaced three times. Living out of
my car, with serious health issues. Last summer, I had a stroke and aneurysm.
This year, I had the hole in my heart repaired and two weeks ago, I was rushed
to the hospital, believed to have had another TIA.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">While the two previous displacements, were due to a combination of
serious work injuries/loss of job and benefits ending, there is more to what
meets the eye.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">As I type this, I have just moved out from my last, recent suite.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">After losing my job last year as a Labourer due to COVID, I have never recovered in
re-establishing myself. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">This autumn, when my benefits ended, I found myself speaking with my
Landlords and it resulted in me giving my notice. One of them had suffered a
serious injury, after a fall and </span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">due to
my lack of rent, it was causing them issues.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">I spent 5 hours cleaning my suite, packing up mine and my daughter’s
things and moving back into my mini car. I made several trips to drop off
donations to the Burnaby HOSPICE Thrift store and I found a young man in need
to give my bottles and cans too.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">Yet I need to address ‘the box’ that was placed in Shayla’s car, as it
is a missing puzzle piece.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN4igD-jbxpAbuDB0dM-KtXzILFdn0b2gppCrYYseA1Tx9FradpAbeKUQ89B326yINRQjKVQeePTtA68VT5qx4cEWBO38CfxZSBwacqW2f7SjAayfgA0334XPlHgN4Y4BjSVjy9xkVI8yRVeJvI76nWcNwWwo3aefurvIiSK_i7bDoFYS2ku7tI9uugw=s1200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="728" data-original-width="1200" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN4igD-jbxpAbuDB0dM-KtXzILFdn0b2gppCrYYseA1Tx9FradpAbeKUQ89B326yINRQjKVQeePTtA68VT5qx4cEWBO38CfxZSBwacqW2f7SjAayfgA0334XPlHgN4Y4BjSVjy9xkVI8yRVeJvI76nWcNwWwo3aefurvIiSK_i7bDoFYS2ku7tI9uugw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-size: 12pt;">This week, the night before I was to leave my suite, I took a much needed break from sorting and packing.
Sitting down, I stared at the mound of boxes, donations to be given and abruptly
burst into tears! I was looking at one box in particular, which had clothing
and items jutting out. I had not closed it up, nor had I taped it. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-size: 12pt;">Abruptly, my PSTD was
heavily triggered, and I fell to the floor, in tears.</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">The answer to all three of my displacements, was sitting right in front
of me!</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The truth is, I have been awash with guilt and shame over the box that
Shayla had travelled with! I had spoken to my daughter, several times and never
had it occurred to me that I had transferred over to myself, the blame of that day! </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">I have had recurring nightmares, where Shayla is screaming at me in the
darkness of the frozen waters, to come ‘save her!’ <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">I have carried the burdens that when she first called me in Kamloops,
about the Life Insurance, I should have questioned her more! </span><o:p style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">I blame myself that when she called me about to depart on the road, I
didn’t ask about the box!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">I feel the guilt when I learned her car had been worked on- specifically
her four tires- that I didn’t ask her more! Likewise, I am wracked with
heartache that I couldn’t stop her from leaving… and I have lived with such
shame- knowing, had any of these circumstances were to have changed, Shayla
would still be alive!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">Looking back at the box I had set aside for donation, before this time
of displacement, it represents my burdens. So when I feel overwhelmed by a new
place to settle in (after living in my car), it is like I crave the darkness,
the pain and punishment of displacement, as a release of all of what is built
up inside of me!</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">I know for a period of time this year; I also went to a whole new level
of darkness in seeking someone from my past. I pushed more and more, in our
phone conversations, seeking to be in a realm of obscurity that feels like
‘home’ to me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">Also, I oppressive feeling that I failed my daughter- sees me unsettled
within. So much that when I find a new place to live, I do not think I am
worthy of happiness or stability.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">I have been broken inside for a long period of time…as I mentioned to
someone…</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">its as if darkness takes an elevator ride through my soul and departs on the main floor.</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">I thought I had done a great release of ‘letting go’, until someone
recently mentioned these words to me and I went on the defense! For me to let go...is
to give up on me still fighting for the truth of what really took place.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">I also would ask anyone who thinks its time to let go… come this Christmas, as everyone is gathered at
the table, presents have been opened and loved ones gathered round… look at one
of your own children and ask yourself…if this happened to one of them, could
you simply just ‘let it go?’</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">For me, I now see a direct link between my daughter’s tragic car crash
and the ripples of displacement in my life.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">I have been carrying the guilt of others, the brokenness of making
myself abandoned and punishing myself with the discord- I feel I deserve, to
keep putting myself through! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">I now have a ‘reason’ for the madness/darkness of that tragic day. Also, a need to be freed off of the spider’s web, I’ve spent years trapped on.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcc0ySEbTVg8VhelNFXin2BJImtbCQantCYPJNevPnxV14AQipISMEym-_FEPRh5qRbv8Vtz9_9B22bcsdyqA5GtwSSkJF5C7k9Fy_GuZdD5tcesHmZZQ7TZWqxbfJYXZeT4MSrOmoDR7O9brYa4bkmyza8hFtqLWEBWVMvFJ8LRh9scDWdhYVIw1XdQ=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcc0ySEbTVg8VhelNFXin2BJImtbCQantCYPJNevPnxV14AQipISMEym-_FEPRh5qRbv8Vtz9_9B22bcsdyqA5GtwSSkJF5C7k9Fy_GuZdD5tcesHmZZQ7TZWqxbfJYXZeT4MSrOmoDR7O9brYa4bkmyza8hFtqLWEBWVMvFJ8LRh9scDWdhYVIw1XdQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I am thankful for the block that God removed for me, in order to embrace
healing and move forward. As a protective mother, I feel not only me, but
others, let Shayla down. However, I can only speak for myself and what I know
to be true.</span></span></p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">I am a writer and researcher. I believe in the facts, and I have faith
that someday, the raw truth of what happened to my daughter, will be revealed.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">I am deeply grateful to those friends who have stood by me, the family
that has reached out to help and to those who I understand… decided to jump off
the train of chaos - that is my life.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">In times of crisis, people want to come together and help in anyway they
can...</span></b></span></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">One thing I do know, as a dear
friend put it…</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">“Shayla wouldn’t want you to continue to carry this weight!” </span><o:p style="background-color: white;"></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4_baN2p4ZneB24hhThwyiSOnnMlI0kjss2fkmlOuaY3PSAgHLQrjd96pxsqiMBe-7GxCz3OI_qs_2iC7T16bmM2S6fVHNZ-ty_PHo8pIxcxaWvf6nA_KIm9u0der6PTJhtfsefc3z4sqJiCaQttgQnXLJgGpEALXohVaSDLVMV5CGTjq4ZdBhP36DzA=s257" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="257" data-original-width="250" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4_baN2p4ZneB24hhThwyiSOnnMlI0kjss2fkmlOuaY3PSAgHLQrjd96pxsqiMBe-7GxCz3OI_qs_2iC7T16bmM2S6fVHNZ-ty_PHo8pIxcxaWvf6nA_KIm9u0der6PTJhtfsefc3z4sqJiCaQttgQnXLJgGpEALXohVaSDLVMV5CGTjq4ZdBhP36DzA" width="250" /></a></div><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-size: 12pt;">So a major shift has occurred and instead of the burden of blame, I am
striving to survive- daily!</span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">The one constant companion of mine has been my book, Under the Sitka
Tree. Over a week ago, I had a breakdown in tears, as I struggled what to do
with the future of my novel? Would Shayla want me to keep tight control over Sitka
or would she want me to let it go? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">After many prayers, I signed a contract with Oldale Publishing that
ensures its future and further release. This doesn’t get me out of living in my
car, but all of Leon Oldale’s hard work and dedication, have secured further
release of my book on Amazon and Kindle! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">I have good reason to mention UTST, as it’s a source of income for me,
when it sells. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">I have been blessed by those who have purchased the paperback versions of my novel; family, friends and strangers who have shared in the beautiful promise to my late babygirl...Thank you from my heart to yours...</span><span style="background-color: white;">💝</span></span></p>
<div><br /></div><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B09MW4L3FL&source=gmail&ust=1638750079586000&usg=AOvVaw3pOlsb6pZx8CtTTDJvVY7E" href="https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B09MW4L3FL" rel="noreferrer" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" target="_blank">https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B09M<wbr></wbr>W4L3FL</a><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">The time being, I have a lot to reconcile within myself and stop being
stuck on December 12</span><sup style="color: #222222;">th</sup><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">, 2011.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">A large part of me, will never abandon the need for the truth, to finally come out about Shayla's untimely death. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">I will also continue to reach out to others displaced. As I meet individuals-
I am finding immigrants, people of various ethnic backgrounds/ beliefs and those truly homeless. Interwoven in all of them, I see a
common thread.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">Those who are striving to find the means- that they are worthy- to be a part
of this uncertain world!</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #073763;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span>THE DEFINITION OF INSANE IS TO TREAT ANOTHER PERSON’S VALUE
AS WORTHLESS!</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span>In that, I find similarities- a place not of isolation but of
connection- where everyone... has stories of heartbreak to share.</span><span> </span></span><span style="background-color: white;">💔💦</span><o:p style="background-color: white;"></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt;">By TL Alton</span></p>WalkerofLighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097656174800982525noreply@blogger.com0Vancouver, BC, Canada49.2827291 -123.120737520.972495263821152 -158.27698750000002 77.59296293617885 -87.9644875