As I sit down to write this I am in a house on a hill, overlooking a harbour on the outskirts of Halifax, Nova Scotia.
The sun is sparkling on the water, sailboats and ships of various sizes occasionally drift into view as they pass by. The constant in the scene is the lighthouse in the distance.
There are many lighthouses up and down the shoreline. The most well known is set on a rocky outcrop at Peggy’s Cove. Tourists flock this this one but each have their own story to tell.
A lighthouse shines its lights to expose dark, rocky places that would be a hazard if not otherwise seen. This helps minimize the danger for sailers in the area.
I have a personal lighthouse. His name is Jesus. His light shines into the dark places to warn me of dangers ahead. He lights the way so I can move forward without fear. There is no better protection for my life than being covered by the light and love of Jesus.
I stayed in student housing on a university campus while attending a retreat. My bedroom was one of three in the basement of a townhouse. The first evening I found my room, had a short visit with my roommates and went to bed.
In the night I got up to go to the bathroom. The bedroom was very dark and I became disoriented when trying to find the door. After first bumping into a wall and then opening the closet, I found the door and exited the room.
It was almost as dark outside of the bedroom as inside. I saw some closed doors, went from memory to choose what I thought was the correct one, opened it and stepped inside. When I heard someone roll over in bed, I knew my choice had been wrong! I quickly backed out. Confused, I stood in the dark and slowly turned in a circle, trying to get my bearings.
That’s when I spotted the open door that was my bedroom. My phone was next to the bed so I made my way back, retrieved it and used the light to guide me. Success at last!
Why hadn’t I done that in the first place? The answer is simple. I thought I could manage on my own. That’s why I wandered in the dark when a source of light had been available all along.
I don’t know about you, but this is a familiar story in my life. Many times I’ve stumbled my way through life’s challenges, thinking if I just try harder I can manage on my own. I’ve learned that seeking help is not weakness, as I first thought. It takes strength to admit I need help to see me through.
The source of light, God’s Son, is available and waiting for me to seek His guidance. Jesus is the light of the world. He shines into the darkness, the fear and the grief. His light brings hope, peace, and clarity. It focuses my attention on people, places and things I wouldn’t have found on my own. There is no need to walk in darkness when I have access to the light.
In Wave Walker, Beth’s story is told through her journal entries. Here’s an excerpt from her journal on January 9th.
You can listen by clicking on the link above. The written transcript is below.
The abandoned structure had been ravaged by the elements. The paint was peeling, the plaster crumbling, and several windows mission. It seemed beyond repair.
But something about it drew me closer.
If you are in the Calgary area, stop by and visit me on Thursday, May 7 at Ground Press Coffee and Books, 106 Sierra Springs Drive, Airdrie. I’ll be there from 3-6 pm to talk about Wave Walker, let you know how you can get your free Reader Resource and enter you into a draw to win a themed door prize.
The book is available for sale at Ground Press, Amazon (in print and ebook) and in print and all ebook formats through my website
A display at the vendor market caught my attention. The beautiful fused glass pieces were not for sale but I was told I could register for classes to make my own.
I was intrigued and over the next few days shared my interest with a few others. Together we registered and headed off with great expectations of what we could create.
At the first class I sat facing a red cafeteria tray holding two, four inch squares of clear glass. In each corner of the tray were pellets of coloured glass.
After an introduction to this art form we were told to use what was on our tray or find other shapes, sizes and colours of glass from a nearby table and have fun creating.
What? Instant panic set in. If a template was set out for me I would follow it to the best of my ability. But, to start from a blank slate and create something produced an almost paralyzing fear.
I sat staring at the contents of my tray, unsure how to even begin. Around me, others had chosen shapes and colours and were already creating. I wandered around, looking at what they were doing, hoping for inspiration.
Eventually I attempted to create specific patterns out of random pieces. Some worked and others didn’t. At one point, in a moment of frustration, I swept all the bits and pieces to the side and started over. At the end of the class we left our pieces to be fired in the kiln. I was gong to have to wait until the next class to see how they turned out.
The following week I was surprised to see how the initial look of the glass had changed after spending time in extreme heat. Now that I understood complete control of the outcome was not possible, I relaxed and enjoyed the process. On my six inch pieces of glass, I created random designs with colours and shapes I wouldn’t have previously put together.
When I received my finished work a couple of weeks later, I was surprised to see that the less controlled ones were my favourites. Instead of being upset that one had a big air bubble in it, I embraced the uniqueness. Every piece had its own beauty.
As I thought of my experience, I couldn’t help but see the parallels to my life over the past couple of years.
When my life shattered, I looked at the broken pieces and didn’t know what to do. A large portion of who I was was missing. It wasn’t possible to put the remaining fragments together to form what I’d had before. My options were to stay frozen in fear or to move forward and create something new.
Many beautiful memories of various sizes and colours had shaped me over the years. I chose some and used them to help me find new segments of the emerging picture of my life.
Some days I try too hard to form the fragments into the picture I have in my mind. Others, I am more spontaneous. I’ve learned I don’t have complete control over the outcome. Being forged in the fire tends to change things. It also smooths out the sharp edges and makes the finished product stronger.
With guidance from God, the Master Creator, my life is taking on the shape and colours of his design. I am His work of art and He’s not finished with me yet.
I’m very excited about Wave Walker, my first fiction book and thought I’d give you a glimpse into how it came about.
A few years ago I worked with a facilitator to do a study based on the book The Brave Way by Ellen Duffield. Through many deep discussions the seed of a new book was planted. I was intrigued with the idea but life got in the way so I buried it deep and tried not to think about it.
One day I realized the seed had germinated. “Not now,” I said. It didn’t listen and started to break ground. “I don’t know how to do this,” I lamented and attempted to ignore it.
The idea wouldn’t go away so I prayed about it. I shared the concept with a few trusted friends and received encouragement. People appeared in my path to give guidance and support. The seedling would not be denied.
Beth’s story and the life quest she was on began to take on a personal significance. The setting became an area I was familiar with. The story unfolds in the pages of her journal.
Wave Walker was competed in February as I spent time in the same Mexican fishing village where Beth’s story takes place.
After working with an editor, a cover designer, an illustrator, a formatter and a printer, my book is now ready to be released.
I’m please to say you can find this novella on Amazon in print or ebook. It is also in both print and multiple ebook formats on my website https://www.timewithtandy.com/books/
Ground Press Coffee and Books in Airdrie also has it stoked on their shelves. If you’re in the Airdrie area, please stop by Ground Press on Thursday, May 7 between 3 and 6 pm for my book launch event. I’d love to celebrate Wave Walker with you.
As a bonus to my readers, I’ve created a reader resource. A free PDF download of How do I Relate to Beth’s Journey? asks questions to take you deeper into the experience. This is available on my website on the book page above or by clicking on the image below.
Not only had I been thinking about them, the recipe was sitting on my kitchen counter for a few days.
I woke up this morning craving Morning Glory muffins. They are a lot of work, but this is my birthday and I’m worth it!
As I stirred together the dry ingredients and grated carrot and apple, I thought of Brian and how much he also loved these muffins. When he was in the hospital for a month I baked these one morning before my visit. He was so excited and said he wasn’t sharing them with anyone. The only way I got one was to leave it at home!
I’d never heard of Morning Glory Muffins until Brian brought some home for me one day. Whenever he made a trip into Calgary he made it a point to stop at a gluten-free bakery and pick up a treat for me. It was just one of the thoughtful things he did to express his love.
The cranberry walnut bread, cookies, and Nanaimo bars were always appreciated. The muffins, however were the only thing I set out to recreate. I searched for recipes and found one that we both agreed was even better than the bakery version. Maybe because mine were bigger!
If he’d been here, Brian would have baked them for me. Instead, I looked at his words REALLY GOOD! printed at the top of the recipe and baked the muffins as his memory filled my heart.
Later, I bit into a warm muffin and knew that somehow they tasted even better today. Must have been the memories added to the regular ingredients.
I stood gazing out the living room window. A palm tree waved gently in the morning breeze. Three pelicans flew low over the surface of the blue-green water.
Peace flooded over me. Gratitude followed closely behind. Songs of praise burst forth. What an amazing start to my day.
I sat in a chair by the window and reached for my Bible sitting on the tile-topped table. Something caught my eye and I froze mid-reach. There by my right foot was a cockroach, laying on its back. And just like that my focus shifted. Praise took a back seat as dread took over.
Was it dead or just flipped over? My first instinct was to get as far away as possible. I knew, however, that would not be a wise decision. If I came back later and found it gone, thoughts of where and when it it could come back would plague me.
The only solution was to destroy it so there would be no doubt regarding its return. Unfortunately, this couldn’t be done from a distance. I needed to get close enough to take the necessary action. With no-one else to turn to, I summoned up all the brave I could and eliminated this blight on my day.
Looking back on the incident, I could draw a parallel to life circumstances. When everything is going well, it is easy to feel joy and gratitude. As nice as it would be to believe life will remain positive, experience tells me this is not the case.
The question is not if unpleasant things will happen but how will I react when they do? They show up with no advance warning. I have no opportunity to brace myself. Oftentimes, the struggle is not physical, but in the confines of my mind.
I’ve tried to ignore my troubling thoughts and hope the issue will not reappear. Sometimes it even seemed to work for a while. Eventually I would myself looking for them to make sure they weren’t going to pop up and destroy my carefully constructed facade. They were not gone, only hidden.
I’ve not only heard that problems buried alive never die, I’ve experienced it. As difficult as it was at the time, I needed to face the issue. The sooner I dealt with the problem, the sooner I was free to get back to living life fully. No more looking over my shoulder (or down at my feet).
I prefer to have these reminders delivered in a form other than a cockroach, but I know this delivery is one that I won’t soon forget!
Today is Valentine’s Day. Brian and I only celebrated this in the early days of our marriage. Later, we jokingly referred to it as a day for amateurs. We showed each other our love on a regular basis and didn’t need a day on the calendar to remind us to do so.
Nevertheless, Brian was definitely on my mind when I awoke.
A glance outside showed the lowest tide I’d seen so far on this trip. I quickly got dressed and went out onto the beach. The sunshine and slight sea breeze were the perfect start to my day. Tranquility washed over me as I soaked in the sounds of birdcall and water lapping the shore.
I felt this was not a to be a brisk, stride along the beach day. Instead I meandered (isn’t that an awesome word?). It had been several years since I’d spent time looking for shells and this morning felt like the right time to resume this lost interest.
Pleasant memories of shell hunting with Brian accompanied me. I chuckled at the thought of having too many shells to carry and Brian using his t-shirt as a carryall! Then I spotted a shell tumbled by the tide enough to be almost translucent. These were not as common and the only ones he had collected. His goal was to turn them into something unique and beautiful for his grandchildren. The perfect project was never found.
I picked it up, a precious reminder of what we had once shared. Tears sprang to my eyes, making it difficult to focus. I couldn’t seem to move forward so turned back towards home.
I hadn’t gone far when a glimmer in a pool of shallow water caused me to stop and investigate. I bent closer to see what was floating there. I couldn’t quite tell and had to scoop it out to get a good look. There in my hand, was one of Brian’s favourite shell types – this one in a heart shape.
In a way that only God can, I had just been presented with a reminder that I am still seen and loved. Shell cradled gently in the palm of my hand, I felt the invisible hug. I returned home, knowing I am blessed – for what I had, what is now, and whatever lies before me.
Massive blocks of marble stood in the gallery. Many of them were completed statues.
Others were works in progress, some forever in that state as they had been abandoned due to the death of the artist.
The incomplete ones were described to us as figures trapped in the marble, waiting to emerge.
I found it fascinating that an artist would envision the finished work inside of the stone and then chip away all the parts that were unnecessary in order to achieve this vision.
Like those unfinished statues, I too am a work in progress. My full potential is still emerging.
Sometimes the chipping away of parts that are ingrained like stone proves painful. Once the self-doubts are taken away, it is necessary for me to step out of my fears and move forward. Each step I take gives me the confidence to take the next one.
More stone is chipped away and I feel lighter. My movements, once tentative, become more fluid. My eyes see things I’d missed. My ears rejoice at an abundance of sounds. My mind is open to new possibilities.
Scripture tells me, “He who has begun a good work in you will carry it on to completion.” I have confidence that God, the Master Artist, will not abandon me or the work He is doing in me.
Every day more of the real me is emerging and I’m excited to see who I am becoming.
I stepped from the brightly lit room and into the dark night. The blackness overwhelmed me and I wanted to go back. That option was not possible. The only way home was to go through the darkness, so I cautiously moved forward.
Slowly my eyes became accustomed to the lack of brightness and my surroundings became less frightening. In the dark night of grief, I wondered how I could find my way without the light my loved one brought to my life.
I looked up for guidance. Above I could see twinkling stars, their pinpricks of light giving encouragement.
Bit by bit, my thoughts shifted from the pain of loss to the comfort of wonderful memories. Each brought a sparkle of light into my darkness. The process is gradual but I have faith my long night will fade into the dawning of a new day. When I keep looking up, light will be given to guide the steps I need to take.
I am grateful for those who have walked this journey ahead of me and offered much needed light as they held high their candles of hope and understanding. With the Lord’s guidance, I pray I can do the same for others.
