by Connie Brisson

On the night I was born, there was a very bright star in the sky.

Well that’s the story I’ve been told. My Dad and Mom drove 40 miles from our farm in Iron River to Elk Point on old gravel roads. In the early 1960’s, that took a little time. And the whole time they were driving, my Dad kept talking to my Mom about an extraordinarily bright star in the sky. Finally after an hour, my Mom, heavy in labor, told him to ‘shut up’ about the bright star. And the rest is history.

I’ve always felt that star was a sign. But the truth is that most of my life, I haven’t felt like a star or even a bright light. The first 30 years of my life felt more like a black hole. I felt alone. I felt I didn’t belong. There were times I even questioned why I was alive.

Then at 30 I married the most wonderful guy ever, Marcel, and my life became much brighter. Yet it wasn’t until seven years later (with the combination of the birth of my daughter, Gabrielle, and the death of my brother, Gene, in a month and a half time) that my life really changed. It was one of the most difficult times of my life and as I emerged from the ashes, my star light dimly began to shine.

Then in 2004 when Mosaic Magazine came to me, I immediately felt it was part of my ‘purpose.’ It was a dream come true to write and publish a magazine that could help people change their lives with great and honest articles. My star light and my desire to make a difference was growing stronger. And each issue ‘this little light of mine’ continues to grow.

But the other night I had an old black hole moment. As I was driving my eight year old daughter, Gabi, to her swimming class, she said something that triggered me. She said: “Mommy, I don’t think you should talk about when you were a kid in Mosaic anymore.” Confused by the statement, I quickly asked: “Why?” She replied: “Because people might laugh at you.” Still a little ignorant of where this conversation was going, I said: “Now, who would laugh at me?” Then she solemnly replied that her school friend’s mother had made a brief comment and laughed (about what I wrote in my last Mosaic article about Gabi and myself) to her friend while Gabi was standing there.

Well, a thousand things went through my mind at that moment. I quickly tried to explain to Gabi (in the best way that I could in a ‘black hole moment’) about how all people are different and that they judge and value things in different ways.

Then when she went into the swimming pool, I parked my vehicle and, if I’m honest, I cried. This incident brought up all my old pain about not belonging and not being accepted. And, as I cried, I asked myself questions like: “Am I doing the right thing with Mosaic? Have I helped anyone with the information in it? Is it worth it to be different and to want to make a difference?” Then some inner guidance told me I needed to clear my head with some fresh air and take a walk.

As I was walking I felt angry, I felt ashamed and I felt defeated. I asked God: “What is the good of this? If all things are for my good and growth, then what is the good of this?”

And do you know what I heard in my mind?

“If you could change who you are or your work with Mosaic -for anyone or anything- would you?”

Instantly tears of gratitude came to my eyes because the answer is “NO!” I don’t ever want to go back to the empty and lost person I was before – not for anyone. I never found happiness before when I followed what other people thought was right. It wasn’t until I began to follow my own heart and what I thought was right, that my life began to have meaning and depth.
In this issue Crystal Driedger, feature artist, says that showing her art is like wearing a bikini. I understand because being honest and writing from my heart is like being naked.☺

And is it worth it? Yes! Within a day of that incident, out of the blue, I had two people unexpectedly tell me that they loved my last article about my daughter and I. For me that was both an answer and a sign.

When I told Gabi about what the two people said, she grinned from ear to ear. Then she hugged me and I hugged her back with all my might. In that moment, I felt like the ‘little girls’ in both of us were being healed. And whenever we heal ourselves, our lights shine brighter.

Connie