The Roots of IMAGINATION

"Words on a page that linger on your heart... tend to breathe life into a new chapter of never ending stories." ~ TL Alton

As I stood on the uneven asphalt drawing in the elevated oxygen, I felt my throat yearn for the drenching of hot liquid- if only to entice warmth inside. As people slumbered under a region of darkness, I let my eyes adjust to the surrounding night and wrap me in a shawl of stars. 

I had returned from the metropolis with a churning of sentiments I could not shake. Earlier, I sat riveted in my theater seat watching on the big screen, Bart Millard’s testimony of faith, redemption, loss and being saved. The true story of Mercy Me's lead singer is peppered with a trajectory of life moments that tore off old wounds; exposing my own vulnerabilities to a viewing audience. 
There was not enough tissue to mop up what had been extracted from my soul in watching,   "I Can Only Imagine." The titled film is based on the song Millard wrote. 
The Christian single has been certified 3 X’s platinum and to date is the only Christian song to ever reach such a milestone. Growing up Bart would write the four words "I Can Only Imagine," all over his journals; thinking of his father, Arthur.

What makes this story remarkable is what was unseen in Millard’s personal journey – the source of the lyrics. In his own words, the son of an emotionally, physically and mentally abusive father, Millard refers to him as a monster. Through transformation that has us bear witness, Bart literally changes his tune when Arthur becomes the father that his son had always hoped for. 
This is the movie trailer link: https://youtu.be/ZNDEyxEMNp0

There are now two versions of the song: "I Can Only Imagine." The original and a contemporary, more upbeat version, which I now play on repeat. The link here is for the newer version. https://youtu.be/ZNDEyxEMNp0

Having seen Mercy Me perform in Abbotsford, I felt the tears come when I heard the opening piano keys introduce the song. An added bonus on the soundtrack, is Dennis Quaid singing a gospel tune he wrote for his own mother that remained unfinished, until his pivotal role in the film. On her 91^st birthday, Dennis presented the song as a gift for his mom and sang it for her. Here is a link to:  
"On My Way to Heaven." by Dennis Quaid. https://youtu.be/95sTJ9YLL80

The choice to have this actor play such a heavy handed role was perfectly suited; given Dennis’s open speaking of a past riddled in immorality. In sharing this post, I believe the movie trailers divulge much more.

There are certain aspects of the song/film that also parallel my upbringing and my first novel: “Under the Sitka Tree.” 

 

I began writing in Grade 5. At the tender age of ten, I had already suffered the loss of innocence and was introduced to a plethora of monsters. However, in words I discovered my mind could take flight, opening up realms of imagination. Where tears marked my soiled spirit, writing could obliterate the evil I was surrounded by. 

A pivotal moment in “I Can Only Imagine,” sees Millard’s Manager Brickell, reach out to the troubled young man. He offers Bart solid advice about the abuse suffered as a child. 

“Write about it…stop running from it, let your pain become your inspiration- and then you’ll have something people CAN believe in.” 

For me, Under the Sitka Tree was the beginning of sharing my own suffering, tragic loss, redemption and faith journey with my work of fiction. In 2000, A seed took root in a ghost town I have never set foot in…Ocean Falls, BC. Sprouting from the coastal dirt, was a Sitka Spruce tree that has thrived, as much as I have endured. 

If the pages of my book could speak, they would reveal layers of an author whose feisty character has never given up, on turning her dreams into a reality. Four years as a Columnist for a newspaper, articles published in magazines and one story in Chicken Soup for the Soul, have not made me rich in monetary value. Yet, I am wealthy in the knowledge I have gained by expanding my passion for literature. In writing, I have found a purpose in communicating and been humbled by the experience of respecting a specific word count. 

Over the duration of penning stories, I have lined the pockets of other's ambitions; where some of life’s greatest disappointments were revealed. The challenges I have dealt with over the past year have seen me want to break out of a cycle where poverty, homelessness and meagerness have abounded. 

My decision to leave the Island I have lived on for five years, is one that has been saturated in prayers. 

As I take inventory of the healing which occurred, it is time for “Sitka” to come home. She was created by a river, under the overhang of trees, while the cleansing waters rushing at my toes brought forth the quote that is the vision of my novel: 
  
"We are Bound by Our Roots, Not by Our Feet" 
~ TL Alton

In a few days, when my purple luggage along with my backpack travels with me, I will be mindful to collect my jar of hearts – gathered of friendships on this Island— tucking them close at hand. 

The Lord knows of those who made it possible to sustain me through some of my most difficult times. 

During my Bible study, as I read my Jesus Calling Journal, passages speak to me as a warrior of faith.  

“Do not fear change, for I am making you a new creation, with old things passing away and new things continually on the horizon.” ~ JC 

This past month, I have been given a new perspective on the true value of life and the fleeting moment it can be stricken from you. In releasing more of my late daughter’s belongings, it made room for me to also let go and give into the unknown of my tomorrows. 

As I waited for the bus today, my eyes were treated to a fusion of spring that is a reminder of what Easter is all about ~ Renewal. Bursts of royal paradise daffodils ruptured through the earth in all their glory, as cherry blossom, pink, petals showered my sparkling, crocheted hat. 

I had come from the storage unit that contains what is left of my life – in boxes. I no longer own any furniture, other than a hope chest, which has been with me for thirty years. Locking up the material possessions, I am reminded that one day the single width of a credit card will be too much to enter through the gates of Heaven.

Everything is in order, along with contacts and instructions...just in case.

The other day, as I turned the page in my journal, I let the opening lines settle in me.

“This is a time in your life when you must learn to let go: of loved ones, of possessions, of control.” ~ Jesus Calling 

The past two weeks has seen me celebrate life with my best friend Judy, who during the early hours of the morning at a local Bed & Breakfast,  we talked about our beloved daughters Lindsay and Shayla. In spending the night at my dear friends Alicia and Ryan's place, we shared a homemade meal, watched a movie and I spent time with their precious pets Kira and Sunny. Last Saturday, as Leanna and I shared in our Chai lattes, we let faith arise in our conversation and I gave testimony of all that Christ has done for me; turning my fear into assurance. Terry treated me to dinner and conversation at The Keg. 
Over food, camaraderie and sharing, they encouraged me in my upcoming journey.

Friends that were once strangers, have been supportive of my writing and understand the art of what I have devoted over twenty years, is not a mere hobby.

In preparing for my departure, my new port of entry is not what is important… the posts I will write along my travels, the rawness of my experiences and the magnificence of my stories, is central to what this new blog is all about. 

As an author, I hear people all the time say how they have a book inside of them. 

“Under the Sitka Tree” (UTST) is that novel, which each of you will be able to relate to in some way. It is the faces of Canada; the masquerade of our broken history and the connections of our deepened roots.

It is for the lady I met whose name is Sheila— an aspiring writer who lives in Sitka Square.

I thank you for the moments we had of the connections to my book and of my daughter. 

UTST is for the women whose worth has been stripped, much like a branch of exposed tender boughs, Sitka offers protection amongst its pages. It is meant for the men who struggle to be courageous in their beliefs and the women they are suppose to stand up for.

My novel is about the value of community; where faith and fellowship exists in the town I created: Ospero Falls. Characters that will leave an indelible mark on what you know of North American history. You will discover the spirit of an African woman named Evamya, who is a descendant of slavery. I will introduce you –  the readers – to a residential school survivor, whose life collides with another character, harbouring scars. 

Throughout all of  the research I conducted, much like Bart Millard’s life,  our Canadian history has blemishes on the flag. This is a result of the decisions and actions of people who thrived on control. Under the Sitka Tree’s narrative reflects on the cause and effect of what transpires when surrendering comes at a price.

My book will take you to new places, where light is found in the distortion of shadows. I will give you an invitation to a town that once existed; whose roots have taken back what rightfully belongs to Mother Nature. 

In choosing the background for the UTST blog, it does not echo the radiance of my actual website:  www.tlaltondesign.com 
I wanted to delve into the corners of a forest that harbours supernatural qualities, where in the grove of trees, there exists a magnificent Sitka spruce. 
Seeing that I have evolved as a writer, so has the depth of storytelling within.

Anyone who has been in the woods, knows there can be a paradox of the elements in a single visit.  In my hikes amongst the trees, I have closed my eyes and let the rays warm my face. While other times, I have lost the route and as the sunset casts upon the tree line, an ominous quality evokes uncertainty. 

Unfolding in my posts, will be the chronicles of endurance and adventures that come my way. I will write about the new individuals I meet, as I seek to acquire publishing of my book.

While cultivating a grateful attitude, I chose to honour my faith and live to tell my stories… like the ink from my book, words are intermingled with the air I breathe. 

In accepting a life of being uncluttered of possessions and setting sail, there is now more room... for the next chapter to be written. 

By TL Alton