Poem in a Box by Gloria Guest

“Cast your bread upon the waters:

for thou shall find it after many days." (Eccl 11:1)

I’ve always liked this verse in Ecclesiastes for its mysterious promise and unique suggestion. Biblical scholars suggest that it means to cast our service, generosity, gifts and talents out into the world to bless others and in some way, at some time God will bless that obedience and bring good back to us through it.

This past year I had an experience like this with a poem I had written twenty years ago and forgot about. Then one day; there it was, before a completely different audience than I had previous written it for. It was written for a man named Jim.

I felt that many people did not see who Jim really was and he needed to hear how God saw him and how I did. Jim had stepped into my life as a mentor, a friend and most importantly, a father figure. He was the closest person I had ever felt as a father, on this earth.

I’d forgotten it so completely that when Jim’s wife contacted me to see if she could have it framed and put up on his memorial table at his Celebration of Life, that I couldn’t even remember writing it. It was only when she sent it to me that it came back to me. She explained that Jim had tucked it away in a special box of mementos that were important to him. I was deeply touched and of course said, ‘Yes’ to setting it up on the table.

To add to my surprise, when I arrived at Jim’s memorial and was handed his funeral card, the poem was actually printed on the inside. It made me cry to think of just how much our words can mean to others, when we aren’t even aware. It also reminded me of how our words can come back to us years later, in the most unexpected of ways.

As writers we have the unique opportunity to reach into others hearts, to encourage them along their journeys, and to be blessed ourselves when some sign of the impact of those words that we had cast out upon the waters comes back to us, and we ourselves are blessed.

The Heart of a Good Samaritan

I wonder how he felt that day as he lay by the road,

His body bruised and bleeding, His nakedness exposed?
I wonder if he waited with longing in his heart,

For some kind soul to pass his way, With healing to impart?
Imagine how his heart despaired, when footsteps hurried by,

Belonging to religious men,

They’d left him there to die.
And then it was unthinkable, it couldn’t surely be,

A man who was Samaritan,

Was helping such as he?

With gentle care he bandaged wounds, poured oil on and wine,

And even took him to an inn,

And paid his every fine.
It’s really not so strange to see, it happens every day,

When people quickly pass on by, And leave the injured lay.
But God he searches to and fro for good Samaritans,

To send to hurt and wounded souls,

And be his feet and hands.
It’s not enough to simply say, I hope you’ll soon be well,

Or even say, I’ll pray for you, So sorry that you’re ill.
I’m sure if you were dying now and bleeding by the way,

You’d long for one to take the time,

And step out of their way.
The hearts of good Samaritans are precious, pure and few,

They’re people who don’t just rush on by,

But cross the road to you.

Thank you Jim, for crossing the road to me.

Gloria writes from a small town on the prairies of Southern Saskatchewan. She writes creative non-fiction, memoir, poetry, fiction & more. As a past reporter/columnist she has many articles published in various newspapers in the province. She's furthered her writing skills with classes in editing from Simon Fraser University & Creative Writing classes from the University of Toronto. Currently she has re-started her memoir and is starting up a writers group for youth in her town.

Reuse, Rethink, Recycle by Lorilee Guenter

 

The blank page stares at me, taunting me. It mocks my ability to write something new, something worth my time to write, and your time to read. I'd like to claim this is an isolated occurrence and normally words flow off the end of my pen as a river flows across the land. Sometimes they do but more often I jot a sentence here and another there. I pause to consider the words. I scratch out half or more of what is on the page and wonder if the taunting is accurate.

We read in Ecclesiastes 1: 9-10, "What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. Is there anything of which one can say, "Look! This is something new?" It was here before already, long ago, it was here before our time."

There is nothing new, so I can put my pen down in discouragement knowing the doubts and questions are correct. It would be easy enough to do. Except it isn't easy. I get restless when I am not creating in some way. I get grouchy and hard to live with.

There is nothing new, so I can put down the pressure. My thoughts have been thought, and my curiosities have been considered by others. However, these ones are mine and they have value to me if not to others. I have permission to consider, to process and to create from my place in time and space.

Because nothing is new under the sun, I can reuse my writing. I have heard others talk about re-purposing writing. I have read collections where authors put together a best of collection or a themed collection of their work. I did not consider this for myself until a comment I received about my A to Z blog posts. Now I am in the process of refining them based on what I have learned over the two years I wrote them. In this case, the blog commentators have helped by highlighting the words, phrases and sections that had impact. I am using the comments to hopefully strengthen each piece before I reuse it.

Because nothing is new under the sun, I can give myself permission to adjust my previous writing. Through revision I can re-imagine and rework a speech into an essay. Essays can become the seed of a story. I understand the theory behind this. In reality, I find it difficult to rethink writing from one format to another. The first format was chosen for a reason. There are times I have reworked a story from one format to another that is stronger.

Reuse, rethink, recycle. My favorite of the three is recycle. When I am revising my work, I often find sentences or paragraphs I do not want to get rid of. Yet I know they do not belong in the piece I am working on. If it doesn't fit, it needs to go. It goes into a snippets file. I have a snippets folder on my computer and I have a stack of scrap paper with phrase, fragments and ideas. None of these have found their home yet. Some of the fodder in folder of recycled snippets will never find a home. These files, both paper and digital, are one of the tools I turn to when I am stuck in my writing. As I read through the random words, new ideas begin to form. 

Since everything has already been done, I have permission to play with the words, ideas, curiosities and experiences that God has given me. It all has value when it comes from Him and not from my independent toil. The pressure is gone and the taunting voices silenced by God, the source of my ideas and curiosities.

Lorilee Guenter lives in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. She likes to experiment with plants, paint and words. Curiosity and creativity lead to many unexpected endeavors.

 

Reusing Writing by Carol Harrison

 

As I read the prompt for this month on reusing or recycling your writing, I thought of all the bits and pieces of writing on my computer as well as the books, articles, and stories I have written. What have I already reused at some point? What else could I recycle?

At an Inscribe Fall Conference a few years ago, our keynote speaker was Grace Fox. In talking to her about her thoughts on reusing or recycling our writing, she gave me a few ideas. With my memoir book, Amee’s Story, I could take portions of the story and rewrite them as a devotional to submit. I have used parts of the story as a devotional and also as illustrations when I have been speaking. Bits and pieces have wound their way into blog posts as well as short memoir style stories. Then I took one small section and expanded on it so it became a short story on its own. I submitted it to Chicken Soup for the Soul who published it. It referenced bullying Amee had experienced. For the short story I had the opportunity to add more of the details.

A devotional I wrote called The Crying Rock; I have used as an illustration when speaking. I also incorporated it into one of my novels, A Mother for Anna. It is a devotional based on a family story. I also wrote it up as a short story for a contest.

So as I pondered this prompt and remembered the conversation with Grace Fox at the conference, I realize I’ve recycled and reused some of my writing in a variety of ways. I need to revisit some other pieces of writing to see what else might be able to be adapted and recycled to submit somewhere instead of just sitting on my computer or on my bookshelf.

Maybe the first step is to organize all the files on my computer. They are in a bit of a disarray. Are there some bits and pieces or ideas that can germinate into short stories, devotionals, articles, or maybe even transform into a poem?

Each year I write family stories from various time frames and print them off in a booklet for my grandchildren for Christmas. Are there some of these family stories that could become, with adaptation, short stories to submit somewhere? The answer, I believe, is yes since I have used a few of them to submit to Chicken Soup for the Soul, several of which they have published. A couple of other ones have become devotionals or short memoir stories in the book I co-authored with Ruth Keighley called, Making Crooked Places Straight. Other stories for the grandchildren might just be waiting for their turn to be recycled and reused.

Then, as I organize my files and all the paper copies of writings, I might find some redundant pieces that can be reduced. Why do I need multiple copies or drafts of some pieces? But I am a packrat and it is hard to let go of the paper and just keep a digital copy of pieces of my writing. I am a work in progress on the organizing and reducing paper copies.

One thing I know about myself is I need to keep telling the stories in whatever fashion that takes. It might be through writing stories or devotionals. It might be when I am asked to speak or in conversation with someone else.

The verses from Psalm 71: 17, 18 resonate with this for me.

“O God from my youth you have taught me and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age and grey hairs, O God do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come”.

Now it’s time to tell some stories.

 

Carol Harrison is a storyteller who sometimes even writes her stories down. She is a packrat who has a hard time organizing her bits and pieces of writing on her computer or jotted down on pieces of paper or in various notebooks.

 

Superpowers and Dr. Seuss by Sharon Heagy

 

photo by Sharon Heagy

Once upon a time in a land called radiology, I was injected with some spectacularly blue radioactive dye so a surgeon could find what she was seeking. It worked too, because when I woke up parts of me were missing! But the most disappointing thing was I neither glowed in the dark nor had superpowers. How I had looked forward to buying fabric and designing a cape and mask for my alter ego. (I once tried to convince my grands that I was Batman, but that's a story for another time)

My superpower expectations were awakened once again this fall when three wasps injected me with their venom on three separate occasions. The toxic combination of their venom, which contains a variety of chemical components, should have succeeded in producing at least a little zap of something to fight evil in the world. But alas, none has been forthcoming. I live in hope that something will eventually show up. However, having had this experience three times, I would strongly advise against getting stung by a wasp as it is incredibly unpleasant and hurts more than you might think.

There is some benefit that comes from these two tales of my lack of extraordinary powers. Both provide fodder for some fanciful or inspirational writing. Perhaps I could encourage those who are facing the same surgery I had. Maybe I could calm the fears of those who encounter wasps and inadvertently get stung, including the difference between a regular reaction and one where it would be advisable to carry proper medication. Or, I could write a tale of a Super Granny who gets miraculous powers to fight bad guys or who uses her power gift to provide for those in need. The possibilities are endless.

These everyday occurrences can be reused and recycled many times over into wondrous tales that lead the reader into an extravaganza of adventure, or into calm waters in the midst of a raging river of fear, or something in between.

Once upon a time I was recycled. I truly was injected with superpower. It brought me to my knees and keeps me there because it is a dynamic and powerful force. Words fall short to describe this Infinite power infused with infinite love, grace and mercy. And just like the wasps, it came in three parts; Father, Son and Holy Spirit. They are my superpower and the guiding beacon for my life. I don't need a cape or mask because as I spend time with them, focus upon them and surrender to them, I will glow in the darkness with their light, fight evil with their weapons and bring comfort to the lost with their compassion. They will infuse my writing in the same way.

As we pray before we write, God takes what we may consider the mundane everyday things of our life and transforms them into brilliant pieces of writing. He is the key that unlocks the doors to worlds we never considered, stories beyond our ken and phrases beyond the thesaurus. Oh, the thoughts that will be awakened in the depths of our soul and the words we will pen for His glory.

Sometimes we think like the writer of Ecclesiastes 1:9-10 "What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. Is there anything of which one can say, 'Look! This is something new?' It was here already, long ago; it was here before our time."

We have this inkling in our mind that it's all been done before, and it has, but never from your perspective in God's hands. Like Dr. Seuss says, "Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You!" God created us, each one of us, as an individual. It's spectacular to fathom. The world is currently filled with over 8 billion individuals created by God. Just pause and think about that. Awesome.

It is absolutely in the realm of possibility for God to use our words in a new way to reach those of His choosing. "See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland." (Isaiah 43:19 NIV)

Let Him take your ideas and inject them with His supernatural power. Let Him amaze and astound you. Let Him tickle the musings flowing through your brain, adding depth and dimension as only He can. Then write. Write and write and write. You have His superpower to do it

 

Sharon Heagy writes from the small but vibrant town of Rockglen, Saskatchewan, nestled in the valley near the Burning Hills. She writes to inspire and give hope with a chuckle or two along the way.