“May the bridges I burn…light the way.”
Twelve days into the New Year and I have crusaded
for causes, battled unseen demons and stood my ground on matters of the heart.
I can’t wait to see what the other 353 days bring my way.
A passage I read taken from a book by Joni
Eareckson Tada leaps at me with a message of going deeper. She quotes the
following:
By faith these
people overthrew kingdoms, ruled with justice and received what God had
promised them. They shut the mouths of lions, quenched the flames of fire and
escaped death by the edge of the sword. Their weakness was turned to strength.
They became strong in battle and put whole armies to flight.
~ Hebrews 11:33-34
NLT
Throughout
my life, beyond all that my Creator did to catch me in his loving arms… in
order to protect, He gifted me with a phenomenal imagination.
In
releasing the creative realm through my writings, there is no one who can make
me feel more invisible than when I chose to escape from the scathing stigma I
deal with.
When
I sit to type the rawness of my emotions, there in my protective sphere, the
light cannot be reversed. And as I sit amongst a grove of Sitka spruce trees,
one by one I witness those who have been seeds nascent of love lost, friendships
forged and my circle of seven, ever-changing.
I
welcome the gentleness of Terry Stofer, the shine of her periwinkle eyes, upon me.
She embraces a person as if hugging their soul. Her soft-spoken voice calms me
in the same way; the forests breathe oxygen, into my lungs. Throughout our
friendship, I have come to her with my baggage of demons and she has helped me
unpack them one by one. Around her I speak truth, of God’s unravelling grace
upon me. Woven into my spirit, I know what an angel of mercy looks like, in the
friendship I share with Terry.
Next,
I extend my arms outward to Judy Dowd. Her hopeful voice resonates within me.
As we share about our beloved daughters in Heaven; Lindsay and Shayla cast a
rainbow upon us. My dear friend Judy offers me an abundance of love; much like
the wildflowers blanketing my forest floor, she is my laughter, my tears and a
provider of well-being. For these reasons, I know gratefulness exists… as I am
deeply thankful for all that she believes in me.
I
soon watch as Michelle Wells makes her way to me. The warmth of her immense
smile, reminds me of all that joy we have shared. We embrace knowing how much I
value her friendship. She listens to the fall-outs of my earthly life, with no
judgements. I boldly share with her wounds and the scars held together with the
mishaps of my life. She is a shoulder to lean on and a voice I want to hear on
the other end of the line, when I am at the shortest part of my rope. Her
endearing words calling me an amazing woman, mother and dear friend, makes my
heart sing. For re-connecting with Michelle made me know the beauty of doors
opening again.
Sitting
amongst the woodlands with my friends, I know this place, like the back of my
hand. There are still vacant seats in my circle of endearing individuals, who
have played a part in my life.
Walking
towards me is Amanda Swoboda, whose auburn tresses are in beautiful contrast to
the spruce trees, she strolls through. For me, a Warrior of darkest storms, she
sees the flames burning inside me. An endless flow of conversations shared
between us, Amanda has seen both the unsteadiness within me and the fierceness
of my advocacy…never giving up as another battle approaches. Her astute euphemisms
spoken to me throughout the years have been guide markers of advice I heeded. I
have known clarity from Amanda, when I have been lost and alone. As we hug, she
nods and is ablaze with the hues of crimson that I miss without her on the
coastal land.
An
aroma of lavender blossoms and elder flowers are complimented with rose petals and red clover mingled with spearmint leaves.
Following
the scent, I see my tea-loving, tree hugger friend Sarah Kube. In her hands is
a Tibet sea green dragon teapot, brimming with Angelwater –an infusion of
serenity. I await the hug that will soon envelop me. The bouquet of her hair is
steeped with nature’s elixir. Suddenly, from behind, I see a little boy chasing
a Papilionoidea. The child’s sweet smile is of innocence and pure joy. His name
is Jade and I bend down, with arms outspread to receive Sarah and Jesse’s
bundle of love for the first time.
The
forest is suddenly alive with glints of silver. I watch as the keeper of my
words strides into our gathering. Standing amongst us is TJ Wallis. Her
beautiful smile is parallel to her deep rooted laughter that I can relate too.
There
is no page in my book that this woman does not know of me. Over twenty years of
friendship, TJ is one of the few who was there for the glorious birthing of
Sitka. Her loyal editing skills saw me hone my craft, sixteen years in the
making. She is the one friend who allowed me to spill my fragments of arduous
grief onto her publication she once owned: Okanagan Woman. On January 19th,
2014, when again my pain erupted in the confines of her home, over the heartbreak of another- ever the personal advisor, she dried up my burnt tears and
gave me back my voice. Because of TJ, I was able to turn all the heartache into
healing through my writing. Now, as I hold onto my friend, the white flag of
support that has been the cornerstone of our lives… is waving for her.
From
behind, an unexpected guest drops in. I study them for a moment; a ghost from
my past come to life. I feel the air escaping from my soul and then…my heart gradually
begins to beat again. Christian is standing before me. His peppered hair is
cast over a face of mahogany. The glints of his eyes need no introduction. My
hands have created every inch of his stout features; the lines etched on his
face, the curve of his lips. I have sculpted him in my mind a thousand times
over…only to discover the bottled love of another was infused into the blood of
his character.
For me, it was irony that I would find forgiveness for Paul, in layers of Under the Sitka
Tree. The first time I edited my novel after our demise, I could have altered
the course of Christian, yet the main heroine, Skylar would not allow it. I
soon realized that Sitka was the gift Paul and I would be bound to amongst the
pages. Beyond the brokenness, there is a magnificent spruce tree, where our
love was once rooted in enchantment. Over the past few years, I came to
understand that sometimes the things we take for granted are doomed to fail.
That compassion does not always attach itself to goodbyes and words of
misunderstanding can find new life in truth. Due to my unwavering faith, I know
the grace of forgiveness between Paul and I. In bearing witness to Christian in
my forest, I have created empathy in the heart of a man whose seas, now have calm
waters.
In
my world, where memories are united together much like a jeweller takes
precious pearls and forms a ribbon of splendour, I exist without the stigma. I
am seen as someone whose praise of God erases the curses of my pungent words,
when life crashes down upon me… where the allowance of being unique is seen as a
blessing.
I
dedicate this blog to those misfits, the eccentric outcasts, who live in their
own world. I say to them...RUN into the arms of those who DO Love and Accept
you for who you are!
In
the midst of all the life lessons…
“Forgive
what hurt you…but never forget what it taught you.”
by TL Alton
