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

HUMANKIND

 

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

They didn't. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The look on my face showed my inner emotions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                Even in the deepest suffering ~ there is significance-  Heal

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

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

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

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

This reminded me of the power of prayer…

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

We are All deeply connected 💕

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

By TL Alton

For The Love of My Sister

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Way of Love:  1 Corinthians 13

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

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

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

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

Through my Sister, I have been truly accepted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By TL Alton 

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

The Spark Within Us

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

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

SHINING STARS By:  Jennifer Benson Schuldt   

Our Daily Bread 

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

By TL Alton 

You take the Love with YOU

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(The Greatest Showman Cast - This Is Me) 

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

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

(Colton Dixon - Through All of It)

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

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

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

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

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

(Sidewalk Prophets - The Words I Would Say)

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

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

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

***

Indeed, you do babygirl…YES, YOU DO!

By TL Alton