When Art Mirrors Life

 

Yesterday, I saw my faith being shaken. As I was about to embark onto a ferry to Victoria and collect hundreds of dollars in misprints- of my book.

My past wounds were being exposed to the salty ocean and the sting of my errors, in okaying the wrong file to the printers, seemed too overwhelming. I felt the enemy trying to get a stronghold over me. His caustic words were upon me, like stinging nettles upon my bare skin, he whispered in my ear….you are not worthy of anyone’s love.

I had to find a spot, where my tears would not be seen. Walking up the stairs, I leaned over the railing of the ferry and took a deep breathe in.

Folding my hands together in prayer, I allowed the light to slowly engulf me. I stood my ground and reminded myself…whom shall I fear?

I reminded myself that God not only loves me, but all my trust is in him.

The mistake I had made, was a human error, not to be confused with the enemy- who I was giving too much credit for.

What had occurred in the first print of my book was to serve a better purpose.

The day of my PFO closure on my heart, I had made the mistake of bringing my cell phone with me.

I knew better. The last time I was in hospital- after my stroke- I took my cell and changed every password I held within my device. I promised myself, I would not make that mistake again!

However, my anxiety grew the morning of my surgery and when I typed my okay for the printers to print off the first copies of my book…I gave consent to the wrong file!

I tried, but it was too late, to stop the printing of the first fifty copies.

In typing this…I breathe a sigh of relief that it was not 500 copies!

After many tears shed, and me calling myself unkind names – due to my error, I set out to share with those who were interested in buying the first edition of Under the Sitka Tree.

I was honest and accountable, for what was my error- not at all the printers.

To my surprize and delight, everyone who has ordered a polished edition, also requested a misprint.

After speaking with Lindsey Cocking from Island Blue Print Co. Ltd, he assured me it happens often when the first run of the book, needs revising. Lindsay also shared how these ones are sold as “Advanced Readers Copy” and it was then I decided to slash the price of these paperbacks to ½ off. The next run will be sold at original cost of $20 and these misprints are now only $10.

Being an avid researcher, I decided to read about other instances, where something has happened to the first copy of a book being printed. The most brilliant example I found, was a woman reading her romance novel, discovered inserted within her book, a few pages of a Stephen King novel! Now, that is some transition and one that made me feel relieved that I am not alone.

By the time the ferry docked in Swartz Bay, I was feeling lighter, as I was determined to rise from the dark ashes that once bound me to the Island.

Driving off the ramp and onto the highway, I reflected on the person now returning eight months later.

I thought of all I have become as a Christian writer, due to everything I have endured.

When in 2000, I set out to write my first novel, I did not plan on composing a story of happily ever afters. From the beginning, I knew God’s purpose for me was to take every bit of my pain, my sorrows and my losses, in order to create characters that were likable, relatable and even loathed.

In my novel, there is purpose in the pain. The Lord took the battle scarred heart of mine and in my own research of my characters, I was shown the depths of each one. As I wrote, I worked on my novel knowing the presence of the enemy  was often near, for he was trying to deter me. Yet what God has done in me, fills me with his light and love. In Him, I see hope arise.

One day, as I read my bible, I read a sidebar story that resonated deep within me…

In the shop of a blacksmith, there are three types of tools.

There are tools on the junkpile: outdated, broken, dull and rusty.

There are tools on the anvil: melted down, molten hot, moldable, changeable.

There are tools of usefulness: sharpened, primed, and defined.

They lie ready in the blacksmiths tool chest, available to their master, fulfilling their calling.

We are all somewhere in the blacksmith’s tool chest. We are either on the scrap pile, on the anvil, in the Master’s hands, or in the tool chest. From the shelves to the workbench , from the water to the fire, I am sure you will see yourself.  ~ Max Lucado

I know, in my own tool box and connected to my grief, there are many bent and misshapen tools.  This is due to an aching void that remains, where there has been a loss of control and a struggle for others to see…who I really am. 

Often though in fighting to just let go, I have lost myself in the transition and I am pulled back- into the throes of an addicted family, where our roots are scarred...but still hold threads of connections. 

As the years of my writing has carried me throughout various life chapters, I never have wanted to be a writer who projects being perfect. If anything the things within, are not secrets I am holding unto. In being authentic, I name my darkness, yet refuse to let it claim me. There is a power coursing through my veins when I look into the distance for the lighthouse…when I have lost my way. My hope is that others will still see that light shining within me.

Extending my hands, I reach out for the grace that anchors me, when the storms prove too much.

After departing the ferry and driving along the Pat Bay Highway, I knew where my first stop would be.

Pulling over by the sign that states: “Welcome to Victoria,” I parked at the spot where I lived (on and off) in my car for 7 ½ months. This area, I arrived at, was to express my gratitude for all I had been brought through. As I closed my eyes, I gave thanks to God for how far I truly have come….since those nights of despair.

I allowed myself only a short visit, as I no longer had a right to linger...in the past.

Next, I went and paid for my 2 boxes of first edition books. I don’t like to always refer to them as misprints, because I have learned a valuable and costly lesson from this!

I certainly will never forget this process! I have worked diligently with my formatter, Leon Oldale, to ensure the next file I okay to send, is the correct one! 

Another thing I discovered about books that have had this happened… some are considered a worthwhile investment.

A rare first edition of a “Harry Potter” book featuring a misspelled title, fetched  $90,000 at an auction.

Now, I am not claiming to be J.K. Rowling…however, if your going to dream…it may as well be big! 😊

Later on in my visit to the Island, I spent my afternoon seeking some of my brothers and sisters in Christ.

I shared with them some of the journey of Under the Sitka Tree. 

How I  was inspired to write about indifference, as it stems from how I have felt. I chose to share about equality in my novel, because I believe in it. How I decided to have a character in my novel, have the same weaknesses I have, because I know of the shame associated with it.

I then talked about how I missed attending church and listening to the sermons. We talked about some of the ones that have stayed with me. I shared how I found it interesting that as a church attendee, when there was a bulletin announcing pornography, to be discussed…the following Sunday- attendance was down. The truth is, more needed to be said and shared about addictions, of all kinds. 

The broken, were the ones Jesus liked to keep company with. 

I believe because no one wants to be judged, branded and stigmatized, there was prior to the pandemic, a reluctance to put on display in church, those addictions that are being sought out in the dark.  

I know it's also because no one wants to be signaled out and labeled. 

Throughout the journey of my novel that took me over two decades to complete and in print, there were chapters of sin and shame. I experienced betrayal on horrible levels of heartache, while I suffered my greatest loss, in the death of my only child. I spent many nights of solitude struggling, therefore I would invite Jesus in...to guide my way.

The word says:

For the spirit of heaviness

Put on the garment of praise

That's how we fight our battles

~ “Surrounded” by Michael W. Smith

After dropping off some copies of my books, I felt a pull towards a place that holds painful memories. After praying, I decided to venture into territory, where the soil was tainted- from the night of my attack, back in May 2014.

I grabbed an ice cap and found my way to an address; I truly wish I could forget.

Parking my car in Esquimalt, in front of an apartment building, I did my best to ‘blend in.’ However, with my mirrored sunglasses and blond highlights- I drew a poor comparison to the former Police-detective series (Starsky & Hutch).

I was unsure of my purpose, in stopping at a location, where a crime had occurred, all those years ago.

I honestly did not expect anything to happen, but something drew me to the place where I survived a night of terror.

Taking a sip of my ice cold beverage, suddenly I saw a man emerge. I almost dumped my drink all over me. For my perpetrator had never been caught nor charged with the crimes against me.

In a city where another news story covered the ‘rape culture’ of Victoria, there had been instances where a few bartenders had been guilty of lacing drinks- in order to receive kickbacks.

I now know this is exactly what happened to me, when I was taken against my will and brought to the very apartment building, I was now staking out.

As a man walked down the sidewalk, my anxiety was surmounting. In an instant, I recognized him as the one who had me drugged, kidnapped and sexually assaulted me during one night of terror- I've never completely healed from.

While I have shared openly with readers that I have forgiven the man who added another layer of stain, upon me- who stole from me what was mine – I still felt the need to see if he existed? 

Much like my statement I finally provided Police, it was with purpose I returned here- to reclaim for me/Tonya- what was once lost.

Now, as he continued to walk near my vehicle, something else caught me off guard.

In his hand, he held onto the hand of a child.

In an instance, I saw something different about the man. 

It was a reminder that while it often hurts to revisit a place where you saw only pain… there can be a new perspective.

While I was denied my god given rights that horrible night in 2014, here was this man who I felt justified in seeing as a terrifying villain- holding the hand so tenderly, of a loved one.

In that moment, he was not the monster I had referred to….no, he was stripped of the ugliness and now I simply saw him…as a perfectly- flawed- human being.

Starting my car, I drove off, with tears streaming down my face. My thoughts were flooded with memories and my heart was beating fast. As I drove out of a city, I struggled eight years to survive in, I remember a Counselling session in my support group, where a beautiful Japanese girl had brought a once broken piece of pottery and now it was repaired. 

As I drove back along the highway, the rays of sun burst through the clouds of cobalt. Suddenly, I let all of my emotions out...onto my steering wheel.

The little girl in me, realized there was peace in knowing that despite all of the pain I had endured, no one can ever harm my soul, within!

My next stop saw me go into the local grocery store, to pick up a bouquet of sunflowers.

I then drove out to the local cemetery, to visit the grave of my dearest friends daughter.

I stayed there for awhile, as I had to collect my thoughts, after what had just taken place.

My eyes spotted a pine cone and as I held it in my hand , I thought of the one at my home- from my beloved Sitka spruce tree. That cone represents nearly half of my writer’s life, connected to its roots.

I thought about the lie – the one from the enemy- that tries to convince me that I am unloved. Yet there can be beauty found...even in some of the most difficult places.

For when my mind is at war, riddled with anxious thoughts, I turn to the light and find inner harmony.

I thought about how I am drawn to write about such dark things, with rawness and honesty.

The simple answer is…I want to bring my readers, back into the light and share the joy I have found, in my faith. Not because I am a perfect Christian...no, rather I want to share what I've experienced to say that there is hope despite my own flaws. 

If anything I've learned, as a writer, I know I am part of a bigger group of talented souls- whose ink is dipped in depressions, addictions and struggles.

Novelist Anne Rice grew up steeped in the myth and lore of New Orleans. She didn't find success as a writer until tragedy struck. Rice is said to have fallen into a deep depression after her 5-year-old daughter died from leukemia. She found that her only relief from despair was writing. Her first novel, Interview With a Vampire, was turned into a successful movie, followed by many other tales in The Vampire Chronicles series. Today, this famous depressed writer has a huge cult following. Dr. Thomson notes that though many writers struggle with their work, there are others — such as Rice — for whom writing is a release. 

It can bring pleasure and a sense of peacefulness, through being surrounded by a world of people the writer created, he suggested.

Depression and creativity are thought to go hand in hand, leaving us with an impressive list of famous depressed writers.

Source.

By Madeline R. Vann, MPH Medically Reviewed by Pat F. Bass III, MD, MPH

Reviewed: June 19, 2013

Through it all, I always strive to keep my eyes on the light.

In the Bible (Romans 8:38) Paul writes, “… I am convinced that nothing can separate us from God’s love… neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow - not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below - indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.” The same Lord is Lord of all, and gives richly to all who call on Him, for, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

My day ended at a beach; I know well. I have walked barefoot along the wet sand, in search of sea glass. I have  sat in my car at 4am, awaiting the sunrise over the rolling waves.

I returned to do a special release of sorts. The first thing I did, was to take a sunflower and place it next to something special, on a brilliant piece of driftwood.

In the placement of the flower, it was my way of releasing what had taken place over the course of my one day, back in Victoria.

To remind myself how it is well within my soul.

To reflect on such a beautiful and powerful reminder that I AM Worthy. The light within…was not to be destroyed.

I then decided to do a unique book release on this beach…

I had brought a card and a clear plastic bag, to protect my novel, from the elements. I signed the book and wrote in the card that instead of a ‘message in a bottle,’ this was a ‘message in a book.’

I then wrapped it up and placed it higher up near the road, as opposed too close to the water- where the incoming tide could possibly wash it away!

It was my way of giving thanks back…to an Island, where I had spent years working on my book, shared in fellowship and found the healing in some places, I truly needed.

As I drove  back to the ferries, to return home, I would encounter a setback to do with my reservation. Soon, I realized it was the enemies way of keeping me from departing onto the open sea…to my new beginnings.

A quick call to friends I consider family, saw their serving hearts help me out of my predicament.

The irony of this, was I had to leave the ferry area, to make a call to them. Turning down a road I thought I had never been down before, I discovered a couple living/sleeping in their Honda civic. Their belongings were crammed in the back seats. 

They were holding onto each other. I just wanted to say to them: This isn’t permanent. You can get out of your situation and find hope...even in the darkest of places.

Turns out, that road they were on...I had travelled plenty of times, during my own bouts of displacement. 

As I completed my call and request from my friends, I prayed again for the couple in front of me.

Ever so grateful for the means to arrive home, I boarded the ferry. By now, my day that had begun at 6am saw me step out onto the ferry deck at dusk. The sea breeze felt so good against my skin! 

As I admired the coral sunset over the ocean, I saw a reflection of myself in one of the windows. Instead of having a sorrowful ending to my story, the light was resettling its way, back into me. 

Once, where the cracks had been, I saw the handiwork of God who is the ink in my pen.

His mercies are multiplied…

In the end, as I continue onward… I understand the flawed, imperfect parts of me...sees my tool chest have various shapes and sizes all within it ~ be a part...of who I am.

by TL Alton 

The Reveal of Under the Sitka Tree by TL Alton ~ A promise made~ is a promise kept to Shayla

 

My calling to write a Canadian, historical fiction novel, was interwoven with the filaments of darkness and light. While I always knew, it was also rooted in a promise to my young daughter, in the many years I devoted to my writing, I also found purpose and healing. The two things I needed most, differed  in the way that I would seek them and where they would find me. In order for me to truly understand the liberation of words, I would need to rise and fall, over and over…until I finally understood that I simply needed to truly let go…in order to come together in a way that was intended for me, all along. 

~ TL Alton

I had always dreamed, but could not envision fully- the process of what it would take to both write a novel and also to see it be in print.

www.tlaltondesign.com

Attached to the bindings of “Under the Sitka Tree,” are the countless names of those, who helped me along the way to fulfill my promise to my daughter, Shayla.

Pinky Promise Journal ~Etsy 

One of the greatest feats for me to accomplish, is to recall with my poor memory, all of those who welcomed me into their homes, fed me in my times of displacement and nourished my weary soul.

My book contains both an introduction and acknowledgements. When I first began, I needed several pages to write the names of those, who also opened their hearts, to me.

I have made the decision, to leave the gratitude to be found, among the pages of my book.

***

One person, who has continued to help bring the book to a final proof, is Leon Oldale. It is because of his professional services, I know the value of his formatting, the way his lay out, design and presentation, all came together- is remarkable. Leon’s work has been done so well, the printing company praised his efforts and so do I! He has the utmost patience for the occasions, I have found something missing or needed to revise. Leon has dedicated his valued time and helped me to have a better understanding of the entire process. Prior to surgery on my heart, he created a mock-up proof of my book. When, for the first time, I held Under the Sitka Tree in my hands, it was glory to our Heavenly Father that I let go… as the emotions, my tears and all that I have given over the span of two decades, came forth….there was a surge of release.

                                                                                ***

~ Nelson Mandela 

Throughout the journey of writing a book that historically spans generations and decades, I learned as a Canadian author, many heartbreaking realities about our country.

Yet in my research, I also heard real life accounts, about those whose blood were shed for us- in Canada- to be free. The individuals who fought in wars, included a multitude of various cultures, such as African- Americans and First Nations. In exploring our Canadian history, I understood that what I had found in the latest books of libraries and archives I visited; were things I was never taught, in my own school studies. 

It made me realize, there are parts of our countries roots, which have been severed. That within our maple leaf, there is a disconnect that remains within our 'North, Strong and Free' - evident within our present discord. 

In my novel, I strive to create a multitude of characters, who each encompass a part of our sordid past. It was equally important, in my storyline, to show woman of strength and purpose. Rather than be viewed as victims, I wrote about their survivorship. Through various topics that include racism, faith, cancer and abuse, each character is bound to something they need to overcome. Their paths see them travel difficult routes, where they find themselves claiming or abandoning something, so as to attain what their heart desires. 

The reflection of who I am as a writer, is bound within the pages of what it means to be a proud Canadian and how we are trying to come to terms, with the forced assimilation of our past. 

In Under the Sitka Tree, certain characters are seeking in their lives something they fear has been lost. However, when the truth is discovered, it comes at a cost. 

Upon meeting and speaking with several Residential School survivors, the fictitious characters in my book, came to life. As I delved into creating back stories, I discovered in all that was sacrificed, had an impact on my own generation (within my Caucasian family).  I realized I needed to unfasten from me, a belief system, where superiority had taken root within my own families past.

Being different my whole life, had entrenched in me a feeling of worthlessness and a deep-rooted scar of being unloved. Much like Sylvia Plath and Virginia Woolf , I have roots in my depressive-anxiety disorder. Thus, my gift of creativity, has been full of blessings. Also the self-discovery over my descriptive style of writing, ignites my passion, for the fusion of the written word. 

Among the pages of my novel, there are filaments of who I am, attributes that saturate those chosen to be part of my book. 

Under the Sitka tree, instilled in me thru my writing that my wounds needed to be healed, through the means of acceptance within. I was then taken on a way of passage, where I would discover a place to call home, a location for my book…within Ospero Falls, BC. 

It means "I hope" and is part of the Latin proverb: Dum Spiro Spero (While I breathe, I Hope.) Therefore, the creation of a (fictitious) town was established. 

A community of hope ~ where unity can be found amongst those who do not see colour or labels, nor division of cultural. 

The core of my novel, is about what happens when we claims things, which don’t belong to us. It delves into what happens- when we do not stand up for others. My book also has tendrils of deception, where some characters are willing to risk it all, for things that have severe consequences. The important value of time- both past and present- is seen through those who respect it and those who misuse it. 

It’s not what time steals, it’s what it leaves behind…things you can’t forget. ~ Charlize Theron

The true revelation of Under the Sitka Tree, is the promise made over twenty years ago, to my daughter  Shayla who passed away….is that a promise made is a promise kept.

Baby Shae-Rae Dawn 

This would not have been possible without the countless individuals, who along the journey, were put in my life to sustain me along the way.

I have never made claim that this was a solo venture, as it would not be even fathomable to think of where I would be, had not the kindness of others touched my life.

To those who were faithful in your beliefs that I could and would get my book published, I sincerely thank you, for beyond the measure of kindness…each of you gifted me Hope.

This dream of mine, would not be possible without the faith that I have and the truth in knowing that I am loved and accepted, is a pure blessing from God. Only He knows the infinite number of hours I have devoted to my book. Along the way, I remained humbled by all was taught and yet still stumbled. 

It was when I as the author, let God hold the pen in writing the story of my life, was I able to understand the importance of doing so. 

When I made another poor decision or wrapped myself up in someone I thought cared for me; Jesus is a reminder of the ultimate price paid on the cross for my sins and his love for me- no matter what.

Under the Sitka Tree, reminds me that out of the lowest moments in my life, I had a continual companion in the words… that were spilled forward onto the pages. No matter what, I could see the light and that the fractures along my own route, actually illuminated the darkness…in order for me, to find my way.

 

By TL Alton 

The Sparks of A Bipolar Heart

                            

 "He Was there the Whole Time" ~ 1 of 1 Original Artwork by Wenelda Zurrin.

The above framed artwork was gifted to me, on the day I was baptized. 

It would take 21 years for me to complete my novel and to fulfill my purpose. I feel this quote sums it up best...

“It is never too late to be what you might have been.” ~George Eliot

At first, this post was going to solely be about the journey of my book, Under the Sitka Tree.

Mainly because a promise I made over twenty years ago, to my daughter Shayla (who died in 2011), was finally coming true! However, as what happens when I sit down to write…the words found within the storage of my heart, want to be released in their own way. 

Therefore, this post is also interwoven with the journey of my mental health. It is for all of those who sparks may have diminished. To those who sparks have been gone and to all of those, who need someone to come along and re-ignite their light within.

In sharing this, I am owning everything that stems from what has taken place in specific circumstances. All of which, impacted my mental health, over the years.

Included in this, are the days spent investigative reporting on sexual/human trafficking, which took me down some dark, sordid roads- with some shady characters. Additionally, the perils of last years displacement (which triggered a stroke, aneurysm and a breakdown in my mental health)- severed a 40 year friendship in the springtime.

While my sincere apologies were not accepted, I know within my heart of hearts I meant every word. The most importantly part for me, was to acknowledge I was in crisis and then I reached out to my Doctor and Specialist. All of whom offered help and understanding in dealing with my insomnia and a new medication that interrupted my path of wellness. 

This post , while about my mental health, is also about the journey which brought me full circle some two decades later, with my book. As I write, I am well aware that had it not been for the grace of God and the compassionate hearts of other, I would not be able to compose this.

For what I believed long ago- was a journey of one- is really an compilation of kindness, mercy and support, I have been given.  

In my venturing soul that yearned to fulfill a promise to my daughter, I also needed to traverse the invisible mountain, placed in front of me… in order to complete my novel.

There are four songs chosen for my post. Each one holds links to chapters throughout my life.

The first, Hold On, is about a father and son relationship, ripped apart by suicide and expressed in a dance/story-telling sequence.

Derek Hough - Hold On (Official RIV Dance Story- *Trigger Warning)

https://youtu.be/zKxvx-lVdIA

I relate to this heart wrenching video- in the shame I carried. My earlier life passages, contain three separate, suicide attempts. 

All of which, were prior to receiving a life-changing positive diagnosis, of Bipolar. In typing my words, I look back and cannot imagine the hell I would have put my only child through and loved ones, had any of the attempts taken hold. When I watch this powerful video, I envision Shayla sitting in that chair and the tears began to flow.

Thanks to God, there was salvation for me after all of the darkness and the semicolon I proudly wear on my wrist; is a profound reminder of my faith and resilience...to carry on. 

While there Is more to my story, it is not merely about me. For the past year has made history in many tragic ways. It is about a virus introduced that carried over communities, nations and our world. The pandemic that has ravaged our schools, our hospitals, our churches and our connections with one another. At the root of the past, there has been an infiltration of fear, intolerance and unease. Add to the tragic discoveries of hundreds (exceeding now) of unmarked graves at former residential schools…causing us to acknowledge our scattered past, while fires wreak havoc on our country, already in jeopardy.  

It is then I pause to recognize those who are no longer with us, for various reasons. I am mortified by 2020/2021's anguish and sorrow. Yet, all the while humbled enough to understand that if I can openly share from within my heart- the one with a hole in it- it is to give what spark I have left, to others.

This year saw me continue to work on the one promise I have been striving to keep...the publication of my first novel, Under the Sitka Tree.

What I want readers to understand, is I would like to also pay tribute to those who are working from home or out in their communities. I acknowledge those who are under tight deadlines, which is affecting their mental health and well-being.

To those I call friends, who have had to work 100% more than me, for their income, who have challenging days and cope with exhaustion. Yet, they still 'show up to work' and give everything they have, in order to survive and provide.

For me, my appreciation for them, is paved with the respect of all that they do!

When my time isn’t spent on getting my novel in print, I have been working on re-building my short term memory issues, along with my other health concerns. I also spend time everyday in prayers, holding in reverence my 22 yr. old nephew Matt, who passed away. Matt died, on the same day (July 28th, 2020), I had my ischemic stroke. 

Matt loved the stars, the galaxy and all that was in it. There is a cherished photograph of him in the open air, sun setting upon him and in a world full of joy. That is how I chose to remember him by, with love and a shared passion for the outdoors.

Matt also loved quotes and when I heard this for the first time, I thought of him…

“You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore, before you decide to be happy.” 

~ Jane Marczewski/Nightbirde

In taking the time needed to seeing my book to completion, I also became a learner of all things Sitka. For when I hired a skilled Editor in Liam Ford, to work with me on the novel, I thought this was it. I would find out; the easy part… was writing it 😊

Next came a Copy Editor, whose questioning methods, made me sharpen my storyline. Just when I felt my manuscript was finished…I was introduced to Leon Oldale. The dedication, he gave my novel, was phenomenal! As a formatter, Leon worked on every section with a keen eye. He devoted his time to each sentence, punctuation and cross-referencing. Being a family man, I know he stretched himself thin. For all the while he dedicated to my novel, and us going back and forth; each new day brought a greater appreciation for self-publishing! I know with all my heart that the hands upon Sitka from George, Leon, Marty, Karen, Ben-Lee, Lindsey and Craig are all part of the roots, which make up Under the Sitka Tree.

The transformation that took place within my book, also took hold within me and I discovered my true writers voice, in the pages being turned.

“Where you are planted, is not where you have to remain rooted.” ~ Billy Chapata

Every minute spent in the artistic origins of Sitka, saw me blessed with additional inspiration, after my prayer and bible reading. For each creative soul out there, has a go to….a song or mantra, a place or some peaceful meditation.

For all my readers, I would love for you to meet Gary Miracle. His amazing journey is something I tune into every day! For he had his chapters interrupted by septic shock that forever changed him. I would hope more people would watch this video and see that a man given the last name ‘Miracle’…actually became one!

Mercy Me – Say I Won’t (The Gary Miracle Story/video of Hope)

https://youtu.be/UhTHgaCjTJs

On a side note, for those interested and having watched the above video- last month Gary Miracle received his legs and YES! He did take his first steps.

After watching Gary’s extraordinary story on a daily basis, I realized that my dream was possible. I was more than capable of accomplishing All things through Christ who strengthens me. In my prayers, I understood if I was going to fulfill the promise I made to Shayla, then I would need to release all control to God and ask for him, to be the ink inside my pen!

God delivered in ways… that I understand had his hands all over Sitka, from the beginning to completion!

The next chapter to unfold,  came with an awe-inspiring understanding of who I am and what is my purpose?

Need to Breathe- Who Am I

https://youtu.be/Iooys8xC3QA

Only now, am I able to reflect on the beautiful truth about those individuals; who much like lofty branches, carried me along the way towards my goal.

Only days before I am scheduled for surgery on my heart, to close the hole in it, have I completed my book and moving forward.

Everyone kindly keeps on telling me that I will be okay, and I believe it!

For I hold close the following:

It is not me who is in control, but the one God, who created me.

I feel honoured and grateful to embrace the story, I was gifted with, over twenty years ago.

“Under the Sitka Tree,” echoes my faith journey of love found and lost, the pathways of bereavement and the simple magnificence of bringing beauty out of ashes.

In my last chapter, I came to realize, without my infusion of Bipolar…. I could never have imagined ‘Sitka.’

For every bit of struggle, rejection, sorrow and valued time spent, I can lift my hands to the one and praise Him that throughout it all…he has ALWAYS been there for me…

So with every heartbeat in my chest
Lord, I surrender all that I have
The days yet to come and the days in the past
I'm giving You all, all that I am
With lifted hands…

Ryan Stevenson - With Lifted Hands (Official Lyric Video)

https://youtu.be/7drEyGsF-Vo

 

By TL Alton 

 

Weeping in Solidarity

Before you place your thick scars of judgement upon them and think you understand their journey of loss and survival...slip off your shoes of comfort and walk but a mile in their moccasins- then reflect for yourself - on the genocide of those... who were innocent children. ~ TL Alton 

Leaders of an Indigenous group said they had discovered the remains of as many as 751 people, mainly Indigenous children, at the site of a former school in Saskatchewan. 

In 1898, the Marieval Residential School opened its doors and it closed its doors, in 1996.

Late last month, 215 Indigenous children's remains were found at Kamloops Indian Residential School in BC

This is not my story- it is theirs to tell, to be shared, listened to and respected. The only place I have in sharing this post, is to ask permission for my tears to be wept for the hundreds of children, whose remains have been found on the grounds of Residential Schools, who were taken in the sixties scoop, ...those who are Missing and Murdered Women, also young people. 

These places across the landscapes, where Mother Nature is openly weeping through her cracks of earth- exposing the children- whose voices were silenced and families had no say in their lives or their deaths. 

I show my solidarity, on a day where a leaf is cracking, our waters are turning bloody and our Nation is separating. I weep for what was done in the name of God- that was used to punish- where man forcibly used His name>>> against those who were children. 

Instead of truly making a legacy to helping one another, the love and learning that should have infused them together with their own families, saw the release of hateful abuse upon every little soul, by those sworn to protect them! 

I come as someone who is supportive of all cultures and beliefs, and use my words to show my compassion, my empathy...to speak up for all that was done against those- whose voices were never heard from again...until their silence was broken....

by TL Alton 

Under the Sitka Tree~ Seeker of the Light

 

                                    My Inspiration for my book and A Promise to Keep 

I have spent my day creating a new website for my finished manuscript, that has been sent to a source, I can entrust my novel with. 

In creating my new website, there were decisions made as to whether I wanted to pull information or add to it. 

Yet, I wanted to share why I've, after all these years, I've simply not given up on the publication of my book. In between my daughter Shayla and my first novel, they were the closest companions, my whole world and what I loved on various levels. Of course Shayla, the girl with the golden heart, knew that for me...the sun shone upon her and through her. She was not perfect, but that suited me fine, as neither am I. Yet one thing she saw me work on daily, was my novel, Under the Sitka Tree. 

Today, after labouring for hours on creation of a new site, I went through some stumbles and many deletes, addition of images and paring of information. Yet, I would not give up. 

To some, they may see it as wasted time or what is the purpose...but in this world, it is what I have left connected to my daughter, who believed in me as her mother and a writer 💕

Through the two decades that Sitka has weathered- through storms and a trail of broken hearts- a mother's grief, I have not given up on the one beautiful connection where my late daughter's joy and love remain. 

For it is when we give up pursuing the one thing that is our passion, we give up shining our light within. 

I have kept all of the wonderful, kind words of others, and transferred them unto this new site on Weebly. I thank each of you for all of the connections, over the years. 

I now have a a possible publishing source and will not ever give up, even though it was easier to do so. However, the day I am able to hold my book in my hand, is the day I will have finally have kept my Promise to my beloved babygirl. 

Please feel free to check out my new website at: www.tlaltondesign.com

In my previous post, I shared Shayla's last journal entry- written only days before she passed away. 

If anyone questions my meaning, you only have to read her words to understand, she believed in the light, within all of us. 

By TL Alton

The Passage of Forgiveness

My daughter Shayla's last journal entry- only days before she died. 

No one can understand the magnitude of these words, her words...my daughter's words. These were taken from the very last journal entry she wrote, only  days before she was killed in a horrible car wreck. Over the years, you'd find me hard pressed to refer to her death as an "accident." For itng was never an accident that she perished on December 12th, 2011 at the age of 21. 

Since her sudden passing, it has come to light as to what caused her car to careen off the road and into a reserveriour. However, ask anyone whose had a child die and they would say, Not even the truth will ease their pain and certainly does not bring, your beloved child back. 

In the 10 years since Shayla has been gone, I have had to make peace with the past- the reasons- and allow myself to find a place where I can shut out the heartache. Over time, I have had to learn about patience and forgiveness, on various at the onset.  

Through reading her 29 journals, Shayla believed her life would be short and taken at the hands of someone she loved. As her mother, I've longed let go of my wanting retribution, as it won't bring my daughter back. 

I am resolved that while her life was taken in the most horrific way- there were major plans made to a treacherous road, that held a terrible past. 

I found comfort in knowing, the long overdue changes for the dangerous stretch of road- which saw her vehicle plunge into the frozen reservoir- were finally completed, the following year. 

It was bittersweet, as it was too late for my daughter- but it would surely save others. 

Shayla had a quote that is embroidered into the Memory quilt I have- the one that displays her countless pictures and her baby clothes, sewn into it...

"Its Okay to fight~ As long as you're fighting for someone or Something." 

It's really quite simple...How I STILL feel a close bond with my daughter, simply because she left me a paper trail of words that she wanted me to follow. The injustice I once felt, has brought me back to the very words that Shayla left for me to live by ~ "Somethings we would give anything to forget..." 

For along this painful journey, in order to be at peace and offer forgiveness, I add...

Living in the past, is not something my daughter would want for me. While I didn't find it easy to let go of all of the pain and misery that shattered my heart on December 12th 2011, I have learned there is no punishment that would suffice in me ever seeing my babygirl return again. 

I have long struggled with that fateful day, the last text message I sent her filled with love and caution on the road she was soon to embark on and be taken from this world. 

If Shayla could speak to me from the Heaven's, her words would be simple...

"Forgive yourself momma, for not being able to stop me driving that day." 

The very word that is on her memorial blanket, is the one I find comfort in when I feel the darkness overwhelm me....the word that was on her ankle and below Shayla's nautical star tattoo, is something my prayers are still filled with..."HOPE." 

By TL Alton 

 

The Next Chapter of Extraordinary

Dearest Readers,

With all that is happening in our world, the following is meant as a source of information regarding my book (  that remains unpublished). Given the content of Under the Sitka Tree, of slavery, internment and also Residential schools, I have held my manuscript close to my heart.

For I have always felt that this is their story…the one that has seen me be a voice for those who are no longer with us. They yearn to have their journeys- their roots untethered and pages read. 

Over the span of twenty-years, I have carried with me the secrets of my characters Evamya, Abimbola, Eishi Hara and Makwa. They are ingrained in my DNA and embody the many aspects of who I am. 

This past month, saw more edits/revisions to the storyline. 

For I believe the timing of my novel, reflects the truth of our Canadian roots.

As a Christian and a writer, Under the Sitka Tree has value in being published. It offers the truth of man's necessity to evoke control over another. The impact, sends ripples of heartache onto the roots of generations to come, yet still contains a seed of release... that is forged in forgiveness.

***

A book does not complete itself. There are hands upon it, a keen outlook and insight upon every page. Much like a photograph slowly developing; a book takes time, patience and love, to bring it... to its full glory. ~TL Alton​ 

I have faced many struggles in keeping the dream of my book alive! All the while, knowing the polished/revised manuscript, has seen many hands upon it.

The image of my daughter and I making a 'pinky promise' has never left my mind and I included on my site, a part about "The Promise," her and I shared. 

NO where on my previous site was a place for credit cards or passwords needed to contact me. For I was sharing, a book with the world that was still being created, crafted and devoted to the memory of my late daughter, Shayla.

Many times, throughout the years, I have though of all of those writers who came before me, to pursue their goal of being published...but there is only one who resonates within. Karen Hill's book, Café Babanussa was completed and in print through the loving devotion of her brother, Canadian Author Lawrence Hill. I loved that he didn't need to put his name upon his sisters book, that her voice can be found on every page and her work is seen in such a radiating light. She also was the sister of musician Dan Hill. 

Karen who in the novel, (shares her own struggles with Bipolar in a fictionalized character), left us far too young, as she passed away at the age of 56. Even though her death was such an immeasurable loss, Karen left her gift to the literary world, by means of her novel. Through her words that were infused with love, her travels and life itself, this is a book that remains a symbol of hope. For these reasons and the fact that she spent two decades working on Café Babanussa, has always been a source of inspiration for me. That beyond the notes of my book that began in 2000, I will somehow find a way to finally be in print. 

In a way, Karen Hill has been a silent mentor. Much like a distant friend, who I imagine would understand my depression and anxiety. Her blunt mannerisms echo mine, while her perseverance is a strong reminder to never give up! 

Shayla believed in the possibilities of change~ that within ourselves we each have a higher purpose

When I look at the words from her journal- only days before her passing, I see it as her way of letting me know the book and my promise I made to her, is something I need to continue. That no matter how my faith is being tested and despite the enemy causing me more heartache, I must never give up. For in pursuing this dream; it really has never been about me~ but others who will benefit from its existence.   

Rest assured, as many of my friends have discovered, Under the Sitka Tree, has kept me awake and reminds me of the challenge... in needing to let go! Yet attend any grief support group and listen in...you will find many bereaved parents- whose angels have departed- but whose heartstrings have not. 

Placed at the Reservoir where my daughter lost her life  

I know the seed of Sitka, that was planted by my daughter and I, required patience, nurturing and love. However, it has taken many years, to fully understand the sole purpose of my novel. 

It was in reading the journey of another soul-writer, that I understood how the ink of my pen, could be held in the pen of another. 

Each time I hold onto Karen's book it reminds me of a journal, whose writer's voice haunts me in a way that evokes the beauty of her words- unrefined. When you read her novel, it isn't in some flowery form; for me it came across as genuine and natural. For Karen wrote from a place of truth; in disclosures of raw honesty that drew me in, as a person who shared the same disorder. 

Spending my day creating my new website, I persevered. Later, as I read my daily serving of ODB, there was peace:

"The power of God's Spirit that called us out of spiritual darkness into a relationship with Him, can also transform our work or areas of service ~ into testimonies of our faith."

For me, this translates into assurances that in spite of all my obstacles, I have a novel that is worthy of publication. I also believe in and pray over the local company, who I feel will print it.

Written two decades ago, things that have come to light from the depths of darkness, is a reminder of our deep connections to our sordid past. 

***

Throughout the years, there have many who gratefully supported me! In spite of all of the obstacles, their words of encouragement remain! I was excited to now have the opportunity to build something new, which reflects on my revisions, my research and my storyline.

I am deeply grateful to those who have read my years of blogging, supporting me in my quest and believed in my dream! The individuals who stand by the core of my original website I created; in hopes of me being published, after all this time!

Although I have surpassed Margaret Mitchell's ten years, she took to write Gone With the Wind, each of us as writers, have come to understand the words...in time...and just what that means. That despite every obstacle that I have faced- I have not given up…even throughout a pandemic and much more!

The end of Sitka simply means there is no longer a website for me to connect, share and receive feedback on. I still have business cards. I also use to place two magnets, with my website's name on the back of my car, to bring people to “Under The Sitka Tree.” For when you believe in something connected to a sacred tree and your daughter's little pinky wrapped into yours, that promise I made is bound deeply to my faith. I was also blessed to make wonderful connections on my contact page and hear from those who are interested in knowing more!

Thank you to those who took the time to read about a PROMISE on my former website…and what it still means to me.

In the end, just as it has always been with my book, God has chosen to write the next Chapter,  and that one is full of Sonshine. 

 

By TL Alton