Time With Tandy

Inspirational author and speaker

Time With Tandy

Inspirational author and speaker

Tag: inspiration

  • In The Dark

    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.

  • Wave Walker Excerpt

    Wave Walker Excerpt

    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

    abandoned house, Wave Walker
  • Broken Pieces

    Broken Pieces

    fused glass

    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.

  • Wave Walker

    Wave Walker

    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.

    free reader resource

  • Breaching the Dam

    “Have you seen how fast that beaver dam is growing?”, he said.

    I stopped walking along the path by the creek to look in the direction the man had pointed out.

    When I said I hadn’t noticed the dam before, he told me it had only been there for two weeks.

    “Every day it’s bigger,” he said.

    Water flowing downstream was starting to back up. I wondered how long it would be before it either diverted to and flooded another low lying area, or breached the dam. It couldn’t keep backing up without some sort of release.

    This thought stayed with me as I continued my walk. The analogy to my grief journey was not lost on me.

    People ask me how I’m doing and I paste on a smile and say, “fine.” I hold back my tears.

    I’m driving and something on the radio triggers a memory. I fight back my tears as they aren’t compatible with driving safely.

    I’m talking with a family member and my eyes well up. I do my best not to cry. They are dealing with their own grief and don’t need mine compounding it.

    All the while, my grief is suppressed. I tell myself that tears are a sign of weakness, something I need to apologize for. They make others feel uncomfortable, so I don’t release them. Even the overflows I can’t stop are carefully controlled.

    The pressure builds. The tears will not be denied. Alone in my room, I feel the dam being breached. My carefully structured composure collapses, bringing a flood of waterworks. I give in and let it run its course.

    Afterwards, I realize how much better I feel. The pressure that had been building in me has been released. I discover that tears are not a sign of weakness. They are a language of their own, expressing feelings I have no words for. They are essential to my healing.

  • Catlike Grief

    I’ve come to the conclusion that grief is like a cat. They are both somewhat unpredictable.

    Sometimes it turns its head and ignores me. We peacefully co-exist but there is little interaction.I can almost forget it is in the room with me.

    Other times it arches its back and hisses at me. I jump back, wondering what happened to set it off. Still worse is when the claws come out and blood is drawn. This usually happens at times I least expect it. I need to hide away afterwards and tend to my wounds.

    Then there are days like yesterday. I looked around my living room and saw so many reminders of the life and love I’d shared with my husband. My metaphorical grief cat curled up on my lap. Whether it was there to comfort or to be comforted, I don’t know. Either way, we had some special moments as I stroked its soft fur and felt its heartbeat. We bonded in a new way.

    I’d never thought of grief in these terms before. Last night I dreamt about cats and wondered why. This morning I thought about it and understood.

  • My Hallmark Love Story


    I’d never thought of our story as being like a Hallmark romance movie until Brian mentioned it to me just over a year ago. Once he explained his reasoning, I understood why I’m such a fan of these movies.

    It may seem like the plots are predictable and the couple falls in love too quickly. To me, they are a reflection of my love story with Brian.

    I was eighteen when Brian first caught my attention. I was working as a hostess/cashier at Smitty’s Pancake House in a new shopping centre. Brian was managing a lighting store in the mall. He came into the restaurant daily and our easy bantering soon turned into flirting. He had an amazing Scottish accent and I loved to hear him speak!

    One day we talked about being tired of the same old food on the menu and I mentioned Chinese food. He asked what time I got off work. I spent the rest of my shift in anticipation. When I was closed up the restaurant that night, he was no where to be seen. I waited a bit and then offered to drive a couple of the restaurant cooks home. Maybe I misunderstood and he hadn’t really asked me out.

    I found out later, he’d gone back to his hotel to change clothes and raced back just in time to see me drive off with a couple of other guys. Not the best impression to make!

    He avoided me for a week or two until I went into his store to buy something I didn’t need, just so I could talk to him. A few days later, Brian asked me out again. Due to a family commitment, I couldn’t accept. I thought I’d really blown it this time.

    Meanwhile, I left my job in the restaurant and went to work in the Hallmark Card store in the mall. I was smart enough to let him know where I was going so he’d be able to find me if he wanted to.

    One day he showed up in the store and asked me out again. When I said, “Yes” he told me that it was his birthday and he’d been prepared to use that to convince me to agree!

    Our first date was a few days later. After that, I started dreaming of our life together. A couple of weeks later Brian had to go out of town to prepare another store for opening. We relied on nightly phone calls and weekend visits eased the time apart. We also mailed each other Hallmark cards every day!

    Ten weeks after our first date we were engaged. Four months later we were married. I had just turned nineteen.

    Our happily ever after lasted for 52 years. Through good times and bad, joys and sorrows, adventures and challenges, our constant was laughter (Brian had an incredible sense of humour) and deep love. 

    Our first date was days after Brian’s 25th birthday. Our last date, was two days after he turned 77. I was by his side and able to tell him how much he was loved before he quietly slipped away. 

    Today would have been our 52nd anniversary. It seemed the perfect time to reminisce about our Hallmark love story. We never get to see how the ones in the movies turned out, but mine stood the test of time. The legacy of love Brian left behind will live in my heart forever.

    , , , ,

  • It’s Not Enough

    too small, big enoughRivulets of water ran down my body as I pulled back the shower curtain and stepped onto the bath mat. My hand automatically reached for the towel, even while my eyes stared in disbelief. My bath towel was nowhere to be seen.

    Too late, I remembered my plan to replace it after doing laundry the previous day. It had slipped my mind and now I would pay the price for my lack of attention.

    I scanned the bathroom and my gaze rested on a hand towel. At least I could get some of the water off of me before I dripped my way to the linen closet.

    Much to my surprise, I dried my entire body with this one small towel. Until I did it, I wouldn’t have thought it possible. My oversize bath sheet was not the necessity I thought, but a luxury.

    My mind drifted back to this several times over the next few days. How many times in the past had I failed to be grateful for what I had, thinking it was not enough?

    The Bible tells us to give thanks in everything. This is not always easy to do. I have found that, like the miracle of the loaves and fishes, when I thank God for what He has provided for me, my needs are always met.

    That is why my gratitude journal tonight will contain an unusual entry; one that expresses thanks for the reminder that a small towel is enough.

  • Not an Adventure Race

    reflection, natureYesterday, my steps were lively when I went for a brisk morning walk. When I set out this morning, that energy was sadly lacking.

    The muscles in my legs cried out in protest. My breaths were shallow and laboured.

    Several times I considered turning back. Images of the adventure race we’d watched on TV last night flickered through my mind. “At least I’m on a paved path and not slogging through dense jungle or climbing a rope up the rocky face of a waterfall,” I thought. Resolutely, I put one foot in front of the other with the knowledge I would complete the five kilometers I’d set out to do.

    I slowed my pace a little and a strange thing happened. My attitude shifted. Body aches were no longer felt and my grumbling turned to gratitude for the beauty of nature surrounding me. Golden leaves highlighted by bright sunshine were noticed and appreciated. The smooth waters of the pond reflected a fountain and the shore grasses. I stopped several times to take pictures.

    Attuned to my surroundings rather than racing ahead, I heard a splash in the creek and stopped to watch a muskrat barely ripple the water as it swam downstream. Had all of this been here yesterday and I’d failed to notice?

    I was reminded how much I miss when I am so focused on the goal that I forget to enjoy the journey. I smiled as I continued my walk, wondering what adventure I’d find around the bend now that I was no longer racing against the clock.

  • One Weed At A Time

    garden, weeds,“You have a beautiful yard,” I told my friend. “It must take a lot of time and effort to maintain.” “I do spend many hours weeding,” Robert admitted. Then he shared a wisdom that is both simple and profound. “If I look at the entire task, it can be overwhelming. I’ve learned to tackle it one weed at a time.” One weed at a time. That is a great motto for life! What does this phrase say to you? Weeds left unattended in a garden will take over and choke out the good plants. In the same way, weeds in my life can also choke out the good things. It is unrealistic to think I can eliminate all of the weeds, or negative attitudes and behaviours in my life in one fell swoop. I can, however, work on them bit by bit. When I release a grudge I hold, the anger is loosened making it easier to uproot and get rid of it. By pulling out this weed, peace and forgiveness are able to take root in its place. Every time I choose love and understanding over judgement, another weed is removed.garden I am most productive when I focus only on the weed directly in front of me and spend the time necessary to get to the root of the matter. Some require more digging in order to unearth them. Thanks to Robert’s advice, I will no longer be discouraged by the task in front of me. Instead, I will glance back and appreciate how far I’ve come, one weed at a time.