Sunday, March 14, 2021

Everchanging Seasons * Revised

 

When I don’t feel like I’m worth defending When I’m tired of all the pretending Hold on to me When I start to break in desperation Underneath the weight of expectations Hold on to me, hold on to me… Lauren Daigle ~ Hold On To Me

****

Recently, I confided to my dear friend Leanna, how difficult it is with the stroke I suffered, to pull from my thoughts what it is I envision on a page. I can watch or read something many times over and still I find it lodged deep inside the matrix of my brain. Then maybe a day or even a week later, all of the things I am wanting to share...come flooding in and I take to revisions. 

Ever since my stroke, when I watch something, certain elements of it speak to me in whatever 'brain mood' I am in and the post it notes beside my bed, are filled with with quotes like this one...

Sometimes, you know something’s coming. You feel it…in the air…in your gut…and you don’t sleep at night. The voice in your head, telling you that something …is gonna go terribly wrong….And there’s nothing you can do to stop it. ~ John Rayburn/Bloodline

The above quote is from a fictional character in a Netflix series called “Bloodline.” The reason for referencing this quote is two-fold. The story of a dysfunctional family immersed in secrets, which bind each one of them together resonates with me. The other explanation is to speak of the ghost in the room; the one that has bound me to poverty, most of my life. Much like the character of Danny Rayburn featured, nothing ever seems to 'stick' or last and he chases after various dreams that come at a cost. 

The timing of watching this series- was linked also to a significant day in my life- this past year.

One where the emotional, financial and most importantly, physical also came at a cost. 

Since my life has days that have been immersed in the harrowing triggers of the past, I have tried to stop being mindful of them and release instead to someone who knows me even better…God. Now I want to make it clear that becoming a Christian, was the next best decision to having my daughter, Shayla. In doing so, there is a reckoning; a manner of being accountable for your own thoughts and actions. It doesn't mean my life was made easy...No...it means a life was sacrificed on a cross who died for those misgivings of sin. Being 'Born Again' has also seen my own journey of life come with always having a choice. 

 


Whereas before, I led a self-centered existence, now when I came to important decisions that were united in harmony, I was able to experience real forgiveness, real love and real peace.

Still, being only human, I can be caught off-guard from worries that try to disrupt my rest.

Recently, I needed to submit my tax return, for a year that many placed in a dumpster and lit on fire. I hoped it might be possible to claim some of the unforeseen expenses of 2020. My major expenses came from when I was evicted last April. Gathering several packed envelopes, I shook out all of the receipts and began to sort them into piles: daily Food and Supplies ( which included water, heat warmers, tent, tarps, wood and so much more. Next, was shelter: One month at a hotel that cost me $1,400! When I could not spend anymore time in my Micra vehicle, due to Edema (inflammation of my body), I would find Air Bnb’s willing to have me as a guest. With Service charges, taxes, and cleaning fees, for most, this is where a lot of my CERB went to. Next, I added up the cost of monthly storage costs, gas, car insurance/ leasing expenses of my vehicle and travels I made, twice to the Okanagan ( after my nephew Matt passed away and my brother ended up in ICU), the cost of the ferries and my other monthly bills. As I watched the amounts being calculated rise up, a sinking feeling overcame me. I had the proof right in front of me, where all my funds had been depleted. The amount was so staggering, I felt the anxiety sink in. For me to be displaced and live in and out of my vehicle, was over $10,000.00!

Typing this, I sit back and mull this over.

I recall reading and even hearing some people grumble about all the excess of money doled out to people with the CERB payments. For me, the money I received, I was deeply thankful for! I wasn’t saving for a rainy day…I was fighting to survive! Then I paused for a moment, my memory has flashes of those I also met along the way in 2020, who were were also desperately trying to survive! Farmers, families, those homeless on the street. I recall the Doctors and nurses who still showed up everyday to deal with the influx of bodies that never made it. I remember the girls on the streets- sexually trafficked to fill the needs of those so desperate- they put their entire families at risk; including those innocent- caught up in the trafficking rings that plague the Island. 

Staring back at the pile of printed expenses, I discovered there was not a Line 10000 on my Tax return for me that read: “Insert your expenses for daily surviving, while being displaced during a pandemic!”

This is a tax year like no other, for an entire world, out of tilt on its axel. I know when I first stared at the pile that seemed to taunt me at the poverty I experienced, I was bitter. That's the simple truth.

While my thoughts wanted me to be reminded of was God is the true strength of our hearts (Psalm 73)...while the enemy wanted me to be reminded of this....

 Literally, my every day was about finding a bathroom that was open for me to use. I had to figure out where to safely shower? Some may think not having to cook would be wonderful! While I was blessed with gift cards for Tim Hortons, McDonalds and Starbucks, there were days I longed for a regular home cooked meal. I tried keeping food in a cooler with ice, but again and again, I ran into the issue of spoiled food that had to be thrown out! I also had to find a ‘safe place’ for myself and yes, while I had a car, lets put things into perspective. The leg room in a Micra is the equivalent of a shopping cart folded down and placed across, in width. As a result of having a car to sleep in, I was targeted by a man who is truly homeless- but also violent and has a criminal record. He threatened me one night and I grew so fearful of him- that I began parking clear across the city of Victoria.

As my thoughts played havoc on my emotions, I struggled to remember where I was and what I had been brought through...

Now, in my new suite, I knew I had an important choice to make:  swallow the bitterness that was stemming from the pile of receipts that linked the year 2020, to them or confess that in holding on, I had yet to truly let go. 

Sitting on the floor, I shifted, then folded my hands in prayer. Closing my eyes, I let my thoughts wander to the space I was in. My mind began to focus on the warmth I was surrounded with. I began to breathe in deeply and then it happened.

Suddenly, I felt the presence of peace. Earlier I had read this in Our Daily Bread passage by Bill Crowder: 

In his book Fearfully and Wonderfully Made, co-authored with Philip Yancey, Dr. Paul Brand observed, “A hummingbird heart weighs a fraction of an ounce and beats eight hundred times a minute; a blue whale’s heart weighs half a ton, beats only ten times per minute, and can be heard two miles away. In contrast to either, the human heart seems dully functional, yet it does its job, beating 100,000 times a day [65–70 times a minute] with no time off for rest, to get most of us through seventy years or more.”

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever (Psalm 73:26)

I looked at my windowsill of cards and well-wishes...No longer were the sentiments tucked into the visors of my vehicle...they were displayed in my home. Gone was the hardships of last year, my daily struggles were being lifted and I thought of my unknown future. I pondered on the beautiful reality of how I am made of clay- soft, pliable, and molded to what I am supposed to be, by God, who is the potter.

Riley Clemmons - Broken Prayers (Official Video)

Video Link: https://youtu.be/cBDt_-tIfLI

Opening my eyes, my focus went to the pile of papers. I took my hands and scattering them, I patiently rearranged the slips of white- dotted with ink- and let in the new begin. Since I had already forgiven my previous landlords, it was time to truly release my fear, into the hands of the one who holds the stars.

Deuteronomy 32;39 God says, "I put to death and I bring to Life."

Deuteronomy 32;39 God says, "I put to death and I bring to Life." 

Cochren & Co. - One Day (Official Lyric Video)

Video Link: https://youtu.be/So94m-Lp6Pw

The next hurdle I was working on overcoming was my benefits that I qualified for. In needing two surgeries, I was hoping to have my benefits extended. Unfortunately, what has happened too often in my life, was another unexpected block. After speaking with Representatives, I was told due to my latest update on a Friday… to no longer expect any more forthcoming funds, on the 1st of the month. In a blink of an eye, I was exactly in the same predicament of last year!

I cried and felt my anxiety returning. Then I felt the quote of John Rayburn, The voice in your head, telling you that something …is gonna go terribly wrong, was breathing down upon me.

My PTSD that was severely triggered last year, was now playing its sad routine on my emotions, once again.

I made a few phone calls and gathered the best advice on what I should do?

Then, I dropped to my knees in prayer and asked God, “Please, you know my serious health issues…I can’t do this alone; I need you Lord.”

Gathering myself together, I wiped away my tears and notified my current Landlords. I also had printed off, two letters of  character references from two previous jobs of labour. You see, I have trouble accepting what I can and cannot due. Prior to my CT Scans, Stroke, MRI's, Aneurysm and discovery of a hole in my heart... most of my prior employment included jobs, where I pushed myself in my work. I also know what I was previously capable of. At a Provincial Park up North, where I lived and was employed, I wanted those camping, to have the best experience possible. In cleaning sites, I gave the very same disciplined scope of my work, as I would in my regular cleaning/ landscaping, I use to do. 



While I did not cut the mounds, I pulled and hauled them out, in order for the upcoming families camping there would feel welcomed and to help prevent potential forest fires. After spending a season as a Provincial Park Operator, I later would go on to work in cleaning Construction sites, during COVID-19, to bring safety to others. This last job in 2020, saw me through when I had been evicted and lived in a hotel for one month, prior to all of my health issues. The following quotes are taken straight from my two letters of references that I provided, to my current landlords. 

 Ms. Alton’s fine character and work ethic were prominently displayed in her work. She carries with her an optimism and compassion which wears off on those around her. Based on her extensive experience, Ms. Alton made numerous suggestions on how we could improve our cleaning efforts. She was always punctual, working hard through to the end of shift, and making herself available for overtime work.

Gift from my former Employer ~ Ruth 

Gift from my former Employer ~ Ruth

Tonya provided assistance with wildlife sightings, behavior and deterrents (in particular bears) as well as reporting methods to the appropriate authorities to ensure the safety of park visitors and staff.  She also participated and led several public education programs held in the park to promote environmental awareness.

Now as I stood in my suite, my hands were trembling, and I had flashbacks of last years ordeal. I knew I would not survive another bout of being displaced. Looking around at all of the stuff moved from the Island, was mine and my daughter’s stuff (who had passed away). My stomach was in knots and I felt a rush of anxiety that felt like I was being clawed from the inside- out.

With social distancing and our masks on, I stood before the couple, whose suite I moved into last November and explained my unfortunate circumstances. There was a literal deja vu, as I found the heavy words of despair tumble forth, from my masked, pale lips.

I remember bracing myself for their reply.

Looking at one another, they nodded in agreement, as I awaited my fate.

How they responded, you could have knocked me over with a feather!

In his reply, there was something completely different about to happen.

In a voice of assurance, my Landlord said: “There is no worries about us! We are okay to wait while you figure things out. What is more important is your health! Take care of you, as we trust you to stay here.”

I was noticeably shaken as I did not expect their understanding!

I muttered out “Thank you!” several times.

It was after they left, that I allowed myself to break down in a heap of tears; grateful for the chance to sort things out.

The next morning, I received a text from my Landlords…” Good morning, how are you? Do you wish us to pick up some groceries for you?”

It was then I realized I had not dreamt what had transpired.

Leading up to the resolution of my benefits, I would go outside my door, after receiving texts from my Landlords and there would be a bag of oranges, a jug of milk, bread, vegetables from them.

They knew I had no funds and instead of going to the local food bank, my landlords took it upon themselves to ‘love thy neighbour’ with the utmost care.

Once I had my temporary benefits, I not only paid my current rent, but made a contribution to next months. I also provided them with the two letters of work references to show my strong work ethic. In extending a peace of mind to me, I was able to concentrate on an upcoming medical procedure I am having. Their compassionate hearts, did not echo last years upheaval and turmoil. Instead, I was shown grace and understanding. 

Truth is, the beautiful place I call home now, was sitting on the other side of all I endured.... leading me to where I am deeply blessed by the Lord. You see, I've yet to firmly trust in the one who made me. I beleive my Groundhog days come about, until I finally get it sorted. My life of scattered patterns consists of chapters of peace and what is a well-suited definition of upheaval: a violent or sudden change or disruption to something. 

A few days later, after speaking with my landlords, I would have the opportunity to walk in the peace   of praying it forward to someone else.

I drove to go and pick up my prescriptions. I parked in the underground parkade, placed on my mask and as I walked toward the door, I saw a lone figure, hunched over on the cold, rock- hard cement. They were wearing an oversized coat and the hood was covering their face. I saw their cardboard sign: “Cold, tired, hungry, Anything will do. Thank you, God Bless.”

I knew better than to surprise the person, so as I approached, I cleared my throat.

I wasn’t expected to see who was before me…a young boy maybe 12 or 13. His fresh face took me aback and when I came nearer, he said “Hello ma’am.

I replied, “Hello, I read your sign and wondered what it is I can do for you today?”

He smiled through his mask, which gave away to the biggest dimples.

“Thank you, I would love a root- beer.”

I nodded and with assurance, “How about I get you a meal to go with that root-beer?”

His blonde locks peeked out of his parka.

“Okay that sounds wonderful!” he agreed, with an earnest hunger I’ve seen on those in need.

As I was about to walk away, I turned and asked,

“Anything you do not like?”

“Yeah, no pickles or onions please!”

That made me smile and I said,

“Okay!”

Finding the nearest A&W, I bought a triple patty, double bacon, and cheeseburger- hold the pickles and onions, fries, and large root beer.

You never know when you offer to help someone in need, if they will be there, upon your return?

Thankfully, he was still there.

His eyes grew wide as he saw what was in the bag.

It was his turn to thank me, repeatedly.

I was going to simply walk away, yet I felt compelled to share something. As he sat quietly eating, I looked at his surroundings of empty spaces, concrete, and vehicle emissions.

This was just a child, someone’s son, a kid who maybe once played soccer and enjoyed the blessings of warm shelter.

I spoke through my mask, taking my time as to what I wanted to express.

“Last year…,” I began… “I was displaced and went 7 ½ months without a home.”

His eyes widened again, and it was time to offer a few, kind words.

“I see you and this is not who you are! I hope you know; you cannot let this chapter define your journey.”

His small frame, engulfed by the large coat, was being fed nourishment and some imparting wisdom.

He replied, “Thank you so much!”

Walking away, I thought to myself how I will never forget where I came from…

A few days later, I was reading Our Daily Bread about psychologist Paul Piff who was curious to study giving patterns. Through a research test, he discovered that the poor were inclined to give 44 percent more of what they had than wealthy people. Those who’ve felt their own poverty are often moved to greater generosity.

Jesus knew this. Visiting the temple, He watched the crowds drop gifts into the treasury (Mark 12:41). The rich tossed in wads of cash, but a poor widow pulled out her last two copper coins, worth maybe a penny, and placed them into the basket. I picture Jesus standing up, delighted and astounded. Immediately, He gathered His disciples, making sure they didn’t miss this dazzling act. “This poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others,” Jesus exclaimed (v. 43). The disciples looked at each other, bewildered, hoping someone could explain what Jesus was talking about. So, He made it plain: those bringing huge gifts “gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything” (v. 44).

Throughout my life,  I’ve learned some lessons I still value, those friendships that have sustained me in a way that God only knows. The ones who were part of my life when I was making an incredible sum as a caregiver and as a cleaner on construction sites, are the very same ones that sent me care packages and funds to sustain me, until the next destination of sleeping in my car. I’ve learned the benevolence of complete strangers in their ultimate giftings of things I was told to not repay. 

                        One of many care packages I've received ~ this one from the Bruton family 

I have learned about human connections and the materialism of some who make poor choices. I’ve discovered the beauty of stars at night- through my windshield and the peacefulness of a Summer sunrise at 4am. In dealing with my health issues, I’ve encountered my worst fears in going to the hospital, yet also the thoroughness of a family Doctor, who truly cares.

So it is, with a heavy heart that after ten years of posting on Blogger, this will be my last one.

I hope I have taken you, my faithful readers, on a journey of discovering who TL Alton~ the writer, is.  I will always be thankful for those who have taken the time, to read my lengthy and often bringing awareness to matters of the heart. 

To know me, is to see the parallel of things that connect me and for which I stand up for. 

Throughout ten years of my postings, there is a common thread of faith interwoven throughout; a familiar theme of good vs bad, because I know there are countless others who have suffered; yet are still as hopeful as I am.

Ryan Stevenson - When We Fall Apart (feat. Vince Gill & Amy Grant) [Official Lyric Video]

Video Link:  https://youtu.be/nOtOmhgu3bs

This voyage, peppered with quotes, passages and scripture, has allowed me to grow, to make mistakes, to say I am sorry, to surrender and forgive when I felt all hope was lost.  

While I didn't chose to be born with a hole in my heart, or have fibroids the size of grapefruit growing in me, it doesn't change how I've always wanted my words~ His gifting, reminds me that my cup overflows with His blessings. Psalm 23:5 

There is a calling from the grove of Sitka spruce trees that beckons unto me, far beyond the city lights of the concrete jungle, is a place where kindness creates the love of words and calls itself my temporal home.

I leave you one last song, but first a quote that sums it up perfectly:

It is good to have an end to journey toward, but it is the journey that matters in the end. 

~ Mae Jemison


One of the many versions of Amazing Grace that speaks to me: because of the passion and devotion in which it is sung, the beautiful scenery, and roots of this song of slave trader John Newton; who later was a prominent slavery abolitionist. 

How industrious is Satan served. I was formerly one of his active under tempters and had my influence been equal to my wishes I would have carried all the human race with me. A common drunkard or profligate is a petty sinner to what I was. ~ John Newton 1778

Alex Boye featuring The Five Strings ~ AMAZING GRACE

Video Link:  https://youtu.be/yenReBNixT4

 By TL Alton


Wednesday, February 24, 2021

There is BEFORE… and then there is AFTER… Part 3

 

Sweet child of Mine ...xo

DO YOU THINK…

Do you think that I am over it
Better than before
Maybe I've forgotten
Doesn't hurt me anymore?

Do you think that I am doing fine
No tears are shed each day
Get up and just get going
Pain has all but gone away?

Do you think that I am coping
Living life just as you do
If that's what you imagine...
You don't have a single clue

I cope, I cry, and I deny
I've learned how I must hide
Keep everything within me
Bottled up deep down inside

I can't be who I was before
I've changed I'm someone new
It happens when you have a loss
You would be different too

I'm so misunderstood each day
To tired to explain
Not over it, or better

Simply put... I'm not the same

Author Unknown

Ten years ago, I could have been the one who wrote this crushing poem…but these are not my words. Still a part of me resonates, on days I feel I am entitled to share the pain- echoed in the verse.

I never set out to become someone, whose life has been focussed, on the nature of car crashes. Often I feel people would love for me to simply move on…yet the nightmares of my PTSD do not take a holiday…just because. 

In fact, the layers of my 3 posts this year- related to Shayla’s 31st birthday- are a good example of what happens when you have a loved one die in sudden, tragic circumstances. Still-even a decade later- it holds such raw, vivid recollections.

I’ve never forgotten what it was like to clean out her vehicle, the jaws of life evident, shattered glass, crushed roof and in the back seat, the open box of items that had spilled forward… as Shayla tried to make the deadly curve of the road.

I had warned her many times about the deadly road. There is some assurance after reading the Police Report there was no texting or cellphone involved. Yet I know what happened that day, unlike others who are often left with a question mark. 

That fateful day, the spontaneous trip to see a newborn baby born into her family, I tried to stop! 

There was a mothers intuition that morning when she called. I can still remember the knots in my stomach- sensors that I could feel going off. 

Over the years, I would awaken screaming, drenched in night sweat and calling her name.

There is a process a parent has to endure, when their child dies. 

The Before (how was I to know) to the After ( what more could I have done)?

I’ve had internal battles; oneswhere I wrestle with some sort of understanding that it does not matter the circumstances, but what was the final outcome.

In my sharing, as I type this in the dark- I look back on what I have posted….how car crashes are preventable, that treacherous roads are meant to be changed, and no one can possibly pen your own sorrow- to your heartbreaking story. 

In sharing about my own disorders and things NOT inherited (alcohol and drug addictions), it is to say how I am still vulnerable and imperfect, in other ways.

I’ve learned to heed the enemies luring and I am always mindful and blessed that I never went on a journey of alcoholism or drug addictions. In divulging this, it doesn’t make me better than those who face their daily battles- if anything I’ve been far more empathetic to that kind of pain! I realize how easily, I could have in my life, numbed the pain and succumbed to it! 

I’ve spent 50 years trying to fix those I love in my family, only to realize how much I have suffered, because of it. 

Therefore that door that swings out in front of me, always tempting to call me in during times of trouble…I fold my hands in prayer and ask to remain free. 

If anything I've known, it is that I have a much stronger thing in my life that doesn't make things easy...but it does make my journey possible. 

In the past few days of writing, I’ve honoured my daughter’s fun-loving nature, the strong bond that we shared, I’ve spoke of her dancing and what her dreams were, and also what they would never be. I have connected with her light, but also been gripped by her loss.

The pin my daughter created for us xo

I stay up, every year late, just on the cusp of the 24th- to remember what it was like to give birth to my babygirl.  On what would be her 31st Birthday today, my heart has a hole in it. Not because of what I have endured, rather because I was born this way. I find it fitting that my heart never closed at birth. This is the same heart that saw my daughter hear the beats of mine, as God knitted her together in my womb. 

Shayla would enter this world with her own strong heart and then one day... hers would stop.

I wasn’t sure of all the emotions I was feeling leading up to these three posts, yet upon finishing my prayers and daily Bible reading, I realized the changes in me of who I was on that first birthday-

…After…

February 24th 2012 three months following the day my daughter died 12/12/11, until now…came from somewhere deeply rooted in me…a need to better embrace healing (in whatever form that is) and hold tight unto my faith.

I speak of addictions, because I have witnessed, how my own loved ones dealt with their grief. 

I flip back and forth in my bereavement; some days are far better than others. Sometimes, there is a realization that I haven’t cried about her, all week... and then the guilt leaks into that hole in my heart.

Yet having a space to freely write- without caring about Likes and thumbs up/down, has allowed me to learn who I send my words too, who I trust with my pain and who deserves an explanation.

In composing this lasting 3rd part tribute, it will not find its way in some emails or texts, because I never want someone to feel obligated to be part of my pain. Ask any grief-stricken parent- how difficult it is to pull away from the layers of darkness- to open their windows to the light and they will be blunt in saying, they often find more comfort -in the shadows.

To offer a comparison of what I am feeling at the moment , I  want to speak of the light that offers hope. I have decided to share the best gift I can give myself today. It does not come in a box, or a spectacular cake… it is not a river of tears flowing down my face. No, today’s gift comes from the light within me, the spark that was my daughter and connected to our beliefs…this has never been extinguished!  The light lives on in many things that overflow in its blessings. 

If anything these past few days of sadness, reflecting, forgiving, and making peace within have reminded me…it is of how good it feels to share with the world that its okay to fall inward….as long as we have someone or something to catch us on the way down…

Turn on the Light By:  Xochitl Dixon

Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.

Matthew 5:16

Our Daily Bread Scripture & Insight:

Matthew 5:14–16

As my husband and I prepared for a cross-country move, I wanted to ensure that we kept in touch with our grown sons. I found a unique gift, friendship lamps connected by wireless internet, which can be turned on remotely. When I gave the lamps to my sons, I explained that their lamps will turn on when I touch my lamp—to provide a shining reminder of my love and ongoing prayers. No matter how great the distance between us, a tap on their lamps would trigger a light in our home too. Though we knew nothing could replace our more personal moments of connection, we could be encouraged by knowing we’re loved and prayed for every time we turned on those lights.

All God’s children have the privilege of being light-sharers powered by the Holy Spirit. We’re designed to live as radiant beacons of God’s everlasting hope and unconditional love. When we’re sharing the gospel and serving others in the name of Jesus, we become brilliant spotlights and living testimonies. Every good deed, kind smile, gentle word of encouragement, and heartfelt prayer produces a beaming reminder of God’s faithfulness and His unconditional and life-transforming love (Matthew 5:14–16).

Wherever God leads us, and however we serve Him, we can be used by Him to help others shine His light. As God, by His Spirit, provides the true illumination, we can reflect the light and love of His presence.


The first thing that came to me after wiping away some tears, was how absolutely wonderful it would be, if when a loved one passed away, they had with them one of these brilliant lamps! On special days, like birthdays and holidays, I would simply touch my lamp and Shayla would know I was thinking of her. 

To be honest, I would be tapping 24-7 and that is not what I need to be focused on. 

The beauty in all of this, is not how much I've suffered...rather in how much I have loved ❤ 

After reading this, I envisioned the Creator of the stars and the space between. How the light -sharer within, has me look upward to the Heavens and amongst the infinite galaxy, my babygirl looks upon the earth and sees the spark… that is still her mother.


Each of us, whether we know it, feel it or understand, are beacons of light to one another.

Even in the void of our world, we can still connect with kindness and empathy, especially when we find our own shine… begins to slowly dim. 

I don't have all the answers, to why a mother or father have a child(ren) pass away, yet I know how I was transformed because of it. 

I have then used my gift of writing to share my faith...and my pain. 

I understand who I was ten years ago and how much of the upheaval throughout my life, has deepened my relationship with the Lord, now. 

I say again, I am not perfect- especially as a believer. Yet I pray if one person reading this, is helped by me expressing my vulnerability, I am humbled by that.  

I am also not ashamed to share with the world the power of the Gospel, among the layers of who I am. The love I have for my enemies and even the realization, one single day of my life, showed me the strength of my future... it is here, the light burns brightest within...and sees me overcome...even when I feel lost.  


By TL Alton 


Monday, February 22, 2021

A Different Kind of Love Story Part 2

 

Happy 31st Birthday in Heaven Babygirl Xo


Pulling into the parking lot , I turned off the key and sat for a moment. The rosary swinging from my rear-view mirror, was a perfect example of the past and the present circumstances. I leaned forward, to catch a glimpse of the neon lights, filtered through the raindrops on my windshield. With a crumpled $20 bill in my hand, my eyes were averted away from the two choices I could make. One door, had ties to my family already infused in addiction, the other door, would lead me to nourishment- the kind my already ailing body truly needed. I’ve been in this situation countless times over my lifetime…When I was abused, when my daughter died at 21, when I walked away from the one man who had taken my heart and crushed it, and when I was living last year for 7 ½ months in the very same car now, I was parked in.

Feed the Devil’s desire or feed the soul. It really is that simple. This night would not be any different. Getting out of my vehicle, I walked past the Liquor outlet and into the Grocery store. Every time I do, I imagine the enemy slams a fistful of fire down, seething in defeat.

As my daughter’s 31st birthday approaches, I take a stroll with grief, down memory lane to birthday celebrations past. The one’s filled with laughter, presents, cake and surprises. In reflecting on Shayla’s previous birthday festivities that included concerts, circus school, face painting and even bungy jumping; the spark that she was, always set the place aglow. Her joy was shared with others in such a way, she erupted with glee across a crowded room. If ever she found herself lost in a group of people, Shayla would raise her voice in such away, she was never missing for long.

Growing up, my daughter followed in my footsteps of being the class clown. To her, laughter was medicine. I remember our very last trip together, just the two of us, going to Disneyworld. When the airline lost all of our luggage, Shayla pulled out the video camera in our hotel room and with a smirk she said: “This will make for some interesting footage!” In the three days that followed, when ever I was too serious, she would bounce her way in front of me and say: “Momma…turn that frown, upside down.”

The first year, after she passed, I recalled being in a support group of grieving parents and as we went along, we were supposed to say what was the one thing we missed the most about our child?

I remember looking up with tears etching my mascara lines down my sad face, I asked: “But how am I to chose just one?”

Over time, my bereavement journey has seen me go through the pyramid of emotions. I have clung onto  the hands of other parents, whose children have died. I’ve screamed over a frozen reservoir what felt like shattered splinters of my broken heart. Now And then, I read something, which I feel was written just for me - only to realize that I am joined by many parents, who have also suffered such tragic losses.

Often its simply realizing the sheer anguish your drowning in, may need an anchor to guide you...

Sometimes, I am gifted precious moments from the past. Like this year, I rediscovered things in my archives, on my laptop. While more than often, my response to these past experiences, are often met with the same immeasurable sorrow, I still carry. Then there are the occasions when interwoven in the multi-facets of my grief journey, is a balance of light that surfaces.

As I viewed the short clip I discovered on Shayla’s computer called “DJ Kitty,” I knew I had to post it just on its own.

Maybe it doesn’t make sense to you, or you do not find it funny, however when my daughters voice can only be heard and her imagination creates a cat scratching DJ , it makes me yearn to have one more conversation of silliness with her that we revelled in.

For a moment, the video clip takes the sting away and I can simply press replay, in order to view a little of what she left behind. For every snapshot I have of her, I yearn to relive the many flashes of when time stood still for me.  

Unfortunately, after Shayla died, she became a part of something that I wish no parent to go through…having their child’s death being viewed on the daily news.

In the 10 years since her untimely death, I have shared how I received the horrible news that Shayla had died. It was on-line, where I first discovered her passing. Even before a Policeman came to tell me, I already knew my 21-year-old daughter was dead.

Alone in my basement suite, I felt an urgency to go on-line to the local Okanagan website and I saw a news ticker saying the person who had been in the submerged vehicle at McKinley Reservoir, had succumbed to her injuries. To my utter shock, a reporter had climbed the hill overlooking the car wreck and made the painful decision to begin filming, my worst nightmare.

To this day, as I type…that horrid image in seared into my memory.

Even after my strokes, I can still recall where it lingers on-line, as many others have clicked to see the hole... where my babygirl perished.

That day- December 12, 2011, I believe the writer in me and once reporter, died in away that I cannot explain. I vowed to never be so detached from the human connection and never so hell bent to get a story- that I forget my oath- and further traumatize those who are actually part of a devastating tragedy.

In the news that followed and the Candlelight Vigil that I held in Shayla’s memory, there was a reporter who covered many of the events- including “One Crash Is Too Many,” which was created by Lawyer Paul Hergott. https://www.onecrashistoomany.com/

I am deeply grateful for this site, blog, advocacy, and platform to bring awareness to the prevention of car crashes. Mr. Hergott has been a legal columnist for the Kelowna Capital News since January 2007.

In covering the news, I learned firsthand, being part of the story connected to Shayla brought out the protector in me. Part writer, 100 % mother, I was fierce in wanting to ensure proper information was getting out. There’s the old saying about being too close to a story and this was my Achille’s heal. In looking back, I am certain I would have questioned God himself, if he were composing any newsworthy story about my daughter. This created a need for me to take a step back and review something again from a different perspective.

When I found an archived video from a gathering in Kelowna, BC Commemorating the National Day of Remembrance for Road Crash Victims,  it was with fresh eyes that I was able to appreciate the reporting of a young woman named Jen Zielinski and the important message of “One Crash is Too Many.”

 I am grateful for her valuable time and efforts she gave to ensuring my daughter’s story was shared.

Seeing myself being interviewed briefly, is as if I now was looking through shattered glass- every inch of pain visible to the camera’s lens.  

 National Day of Remembrance for Road Crash Victims took place for the first time in the Okanagan on November 22, 2012.    (Video Source: Jen Zielinski)  https://youtu.be/yQw4-KGGJgE

 As a facilitator for a faith-based bereavement course I once led, I know firsthand that grief simply put…can be darn right ugly. After my daughter passed away, I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

In re-watching the video 10 years later , I still whole-heartily agree that “One Crash IS Too Many.”

 One thing though has never changed….I also cannot forget that it sadly took Shayla’s tragic death and car crash, to ultimately bring safety changes. The treacherous road saw 17 people over a 20-year span- have accidents on it (everyone miraculously surviving) and still nothing was done to fix McKinley.

This is also where I agree to a point of saying that Yes, Shayla’s death was preventable in many ways…including what happened the day of her own tragic loss.  The amount of time I have spent uncovering details, The Coroner’s Report, going over the pictures of her car crash and reading Police reports…won’t ever bring my daughter back.

“One Crash Is Too Many” did have a lasting impression on me!

Something Paul Hergott said, which has stayed with me… and that is simply prevention in losing precious lives.

After my daughter passed away, I would discover some more unsettling news about McKinley Reservoir.

 Turns out that body of overfilled water, waited for Shayla, to claim her years before- but was unsuccessful-when she was only 16 years old.

Shayla was dating someone. One frigid night, as her boyfriend drove his car on McKinley Landing, something caused the vehicle to leave the road and enter a shallow part of the Reservoir. His vehicle was not fully submerged but required a tow truck to pull them out. I was never told, and it became a family secret- without me being privy to it, until after my daughter perished.

 Upon hearing this, I was upset thinking how terrified she must have been, alone behind the wheel on that December 12th, 2011 day, when her car crashed into the frozen waters.

 Years later, I was struck with the sheer realization that had Shayla died at 16 years old, I would have been robbed of the additional 5 years I did have with her…an incredible gift of life had been given to me!

 It has taken my efforts of visiting the area, many times- in order to make peace with the waters, to see that her death was not in vain. The consolation I get now is knowing that because of Shayla, others are being kept safe on that stretch of road and around the reservoir.

 Ask me then, how much frustration I feel, when I am standing there at the reservoir and I begin to count…One, two, three….half a dozen vehicles flying at high speeds on the very same road… forever changed by the death of someone, whose life was given for it.

 I used to say if not my daughter…then someone else’s child.

I’ve snapped photographs of vehicles who see me and while some slow down, many have speeded up- as if to say it won’t ever happen to me!

 I have wanted them to understand how in a moments snap of the fingers; your life can change.

Also,  I would never wish upon anyone, the pain of what its like to have outlived your only child.

 As with my grief journey, my understanding of “One Crash Is Too Many” has evolved. To where its key point of every crash is inevitable, also includes my daughter’s car wreck. Re-watching Paul Hergott’s videos and re- reading the blogs message; gives me more insight to a matter that is critical to all of us on the open road.

 Over the years I have been asked many times…how do you ever get over the loss of your only child?

For me and many others, the answer is simple: You don’t!

 Life was never meant to be spent alone without your loved ones and this goes without saying I am excluding Covid-19, as I am speaking of my own loss, many years prior.

 At times, my faith journey has surpassed my despair.

As I have experienced another side of bereavement; that offers hope and comfort, in my beliefs and has also seen connection, in the most unexpected places.

 There is another side of grief, which is not always spoken of and given the spotlight it deserves.  

 As a mother, I have to acknowledge how grief can find you seeing connections in other beautiful ways .

Despite my anguish, I have learned about a different kind of love and finding solace, in unforeseen situations.   

 Since she was a little girl, Shayla breathed not in air, but in song.

 As a child, while some playmates joined in sports, Shayla was at ease with handstands, splits, and twirls.

She learned various forms of dance and took part in lessons, as well as performances.

 Everyone knew how much her passion for dancing also included the love of children.

She would have enjoyed having her own studio to teach wee ones, the splendor of dance.

 Over the years, I have shared how Shayla’s passion included everything from hip-hop to jazz, ballet, lyrical and contemporary; Shayla had a hidden soundtrack wound around her soul. Whether in the car, on the subway, or just walking down the street- when ever she felt the beats of music inside, she broke out into dance!

 When a local schoolmate died, she choregraphed a routine. In front of friends, neighbours, and strangers, she let every inch of his loss, guide her in a poignant, lyrical, flow that embodied the overwhelming sorrow- she felt.  It was her way to express her angst and pay tribute to a young 19 yr. old man- who died too soon.

I have never forgotten watching her take on the cloak of bereavement and dance with her invisible partner of heartache. Looking back, it was as if her old soul, was showcasing for me…what was yet to come.

When putting together this birthday post, I was googling images and quotes to include. One night, I was up late and after a search, I stumbled upon rather remarkable that made me take a deep breathe in…something so profound and relatable, the tears begin to form, as I write.

 In sharing, it will be apparent what it is that caused me to pause and let my heart-link to the beauty of what could have been, but never was…at least not for my Shayla.

 Please click on the safe link here and read: https://www.centrestagedance.com/about2-c22fx

 Another bond between us, was to those less fortunate and those who had disorders. I believe as Shayla grew up; her life was impacted by my own mental health. When I enrolled in a Wellness Course called B.R.I.D.G.E.S to become a facilitator, my daughter enrolled in a support course, to better understand my Bipolar.  This helped us to connect even further and develop a different love story. This was one where acceptance and compassion had a home, among the uncertainties.

Many years later, after my daughter died, I harboured guilt in the form of a parent who had a ‘mental imperfection.’ Just as I wish I could erase that deadly road away; I felt the same of my disorder that also wrecked havoc in my life. The irony now, when no one is in my life, I have managed my Bipolar for the past 20+ years. I know what this would have meant to Shayla and how she would be proud of me.

 Recently, one of our favourite music artists ~ P!NK released a video with her daughter Willow Sage.

I thought of how my sweet Shae would call me to say…”Momma, this is OUR song!”



 Cover Me In Sunshine: P!NK and Willow Sage Hart: https://youtu.be/vGZhMIXH62M

With my recent health issues related to my stroke, brain bleed and other private matters, I look onward to what this 31st Birthday of hers, means to me. I am reminded of how my daughter is shining in Heaven, dancing with Jesus and how still in a song, a coincidence, a story…she lives on…

she waits for her momma to be welcomed home to join her…where finally all of the broken things… can find their seat at the table.


By Tonya L. Alton

Sunday, February 21, 2021

PRELUDE ~ DJ KITTY By Shayla Part 1

 In honour of my late daughter's 31st Birthday upcoming on February 24th, I share a rare gem of a video I discovered in her archives. Shayla loved to laugh, but most of all...she loved to make others laugh :) 

As I work on my Tribute Blog Post to my daughter, I simply wanted to post this short video first. There needs to be sound on as around the minute mark, my daughter starts talking in the background... xo


Saturday, February 13, 2021

Less of Me, More of Him

 


I am writing from a place of brokenness…the one in my Brain where I have had an Aneurysm on the right side of my brain. Nerves have been affected, to where my daily thoughts are muddled, I am dealing with forgetfulness, agitation, stuttering and a flood of emotions that overwhelms me. In writing this blog; as always there is a purpose. I literally have to re-read every line due to memory loss and having a difficult time focusing and just because my brain is smashing together words, I don’t even know if this is making sense? My MRI and CT Scan showed my recent attack on my brain and all that came flooding upon me is…If I were to die today, would my readers know what my faith means to me? So, in between battling blinding headaches, hazy thoughts, and fatigue, I want to share about the one who reigns for all of Eternity and all the Love I have received from the Chosen One.

For me to share the battles that really were of the Lords, I have shared that I haven’t always been faithful, I’ve not always been victorious and certainly I’ve known my fair share of sinning. This blog post is not a confessional; because Jesus has already given his life for the sins upon I cross. In my fingers typing slowly, I want others to know that no matter what has been stripped away, I am saved because the keeper of my Promises reigns on…no matter what reasons/doubts the enemy tries to place upon me, I have been witness to miracles that I never thought possible.

#LessLikeMe #ZachWilliams #ChristianMusic

Zach Williams - Less Like Me (Official Music Video) https://youtu.be/fkYL1b7MCEw

 


To share how challenged I am to write this, I have over a dozen post it notes, each scrawled with purpose, to help me to string this post all together. Yet, I trust in the one who placed every word upon my heart…the one with a hole in it.

All of this has seen me overwhelmed in dealing with things that my brain is so fixated on that it has caused me additional stress. A good example of this is after 7 years, I needed to provide a change of address. I paid $70 and expected my mail to start filling in my new box, yet despite my former Postal office saying they are sending my mail, I have not been receiving it. This is frustrating because my brain goes into overthinking mode and I feel besieged by one of the things I feel I should have control.



In rereading my sentence, it is glaring with the one thing I’ve spent my life fighting- Control. In every aspect of my life…this is the one thing that has caused me to spin out of-  there is a lyric line from the song “The Getting Through” by Judah that says:

Take me to my troubles

And teach me again

That you don’t build a bridge

So I can just get over them….

Cause maybe the point is not getting over

But getting through

Cause when I surrender …All my Trust is fully in You.

For me, walking over a bridge, takes on a whole new meaning of God loving us; as opposed to someone who is bent on hurting us. With all that is going on with my brain, I am in awe of what I am focussed on. Much like the crack in my hope chest that really is amazing it is still in one piece- given all of the times I’ve moved with it- I think of the flaws in my life.  The ones where two doors were present.

Behind Door# 1: Salvation and Behind Door # 2: What I was willing to sacrifice for it.

The ghosts of my past have taken me down some darkened alleys with the shadows of the enemy waiting.

To say my faith has not been shaken is to speak of lies. That is why I have to respect the truth, when it echoes back to me that my boundaries have been broken. I am reminded how God still remains the keeper. When I feel lost, ashamed, rejected and torn…Christ remains faithful protector over me.


Even when the world does not understand me and I cannot see clearly, I am led by a faithfulness greater than who I am.

Recently, someone confided in me that do not believe they have ever received Mercy for the Lord. In an instant, I am transformed back to the breakthrough of when my own journey with Christ began.

In all of my trails and tribulations, I came to understand that the fires raging around me, cannot consume Jesus within me.

Looking up at the Poinsettia that was gifted to me before Christmas….I recall someone once saying to me: “I hope you Truly come to know Jesus.” Much like the vibrancy apparent in this plant still thriving- months later…I take a stand in my reply that the evidence is here: “You don’t survive what I’ve endured, without realizing just How much I AM Loved and TRULY knowing Jesus.”


In the core of my serving, it has seen me through being displaced without a home for over 7 months. In surviving a stroke, an Aneurysm and a PFO, I have come to understand that my body has suffered more than I realized. Despite the heart pain, the blinding headaches and forgetfulness, I still convey through my posts to an hourglass world, that Hope is being ignited within each of us.

I’ve overcome and with every breath I have held my readers, my dearest ones in my prayers. No matter what- if you’re a foe or friend- I have held your name upon my lips and asked for blessings over you – ‘because we cannot pray for the homeless and forsake the wicked.’

As a Christian, it helps me to refocus on others; so much so that the day I do die, I hope my hands are in prayer.

For I am only as strong, as the faith I believe in!

I believe the Heavenly Father created me with a purpose- whereas the enemy has scored my heart with pain, I will boost at knowing Christ at the cross.

That stone that was rolled away from the Tomb, is one that I give Praise that a dead man was raised and walked again!

As Valentine’s Day approaches, I think of all the wounded hearts out there- those broken, whose stolen innocents come in the form of Human Trafficking, daily childhood abuse, those whose wrists are being cut and the woman who have fallen prey to night stalking predators, if even one post has covered you in Love- His love, then I can give testimony how I am still- despite everything- not beyond repair.

For me, My Valentine does not present itself with a box of overpriced chocolates and false words of impure love…No, the one who has my heart overflowing with blessings, is the one who has stood at the beginning of time, opened his loving arms, and welcomed me into the purest passion of all- the one that comes from Christ himself.  

A Woman – Amy Grant (feat. Ellie Holcomb) https://youtu.be/yFHFT5OUbss

 

By Tonya L Alton