In God’s Office by Peggianne Wright

I have long held that romantic vision of the writer sitting in the far corner of a coffee shop, sipping a flat white while tapping furiously on the keys of their laptop; the image of a "real" writer. But, me? Ha. I'm lucky if I get five words typed while I sit in a public space like the library or coffee shop. I just cannot shift my attention from the distraction of people watching to the serious focus on my writing.

Truth be told, my fur-kids have attention spans much greater than mine! I put it down to the curse of multi-tasking over all those decades since I first began working in 1979. As the craze of multi-tasking became what was considered in the business world the pillar of strength and a top resume accolade, I'm pretty sure that for me, I was training myself how to begin far too many tasks at once, and as a result creating nothing but stress and anxiety in the effort to complete each one perfectly. What I have discovered, at least about myself, is that my ability to focus was forever compromised in the pursuit of successful multi-tasking.

Fast forward to present day.

As I have embraced my writing life in my retirement from the business world, I have had to contend with the multi-tasking impulse so ingrained in my brain. My even greater struggle is my ability to focus. Obviously, social media has also played a significant role in the way all of us deal with focusing on specific tasks or dealing with various other undertakings.

"Let your eyes look straight ahead; fix your gaze directly before you." (Proverbs 4:27 NIV) reminds me that, as a Christian writer, the most important focus should be first on the Lord. And what better place to do that than in the midst of nature?

My husband and I are blessed to have a small home nestled on the edge of a tiny forest. Our back porch oasis has become the perfect space during our oh-so-short warm season to spend time with God. Early mornings, as the sun dawns, find me savouring my steaming first cup, snuggled with my fur-kids, Bible, and devotional. The rustling trees and musical birdsong, a chorus of several native species, stirs my senses and reminds me of God's presence at that moment.

It's here too, in this idyllic setting of God's office, that I spend hours with my thoughts; writing devotionals and other works that I pray will reveal His great wonder and powerful love for us all. This quiet office of nature provides heavenly inspiration as I reflect on the profound majesty of Creation. Here, in the solitude, I can at last find focus through the peacefulness of the moment. Here, I can fix my gaze directly on Him and furiously tap out the messages He has placed on my heart.

However, as the seasons change, so too does my writing venue. The cooler days of spring and fall and the frigid, snowy days of winter find me nestled cozily in my study. A space lovingly filled with shelves full of my favourite books and family heirlooms; the "closet" of God's office, in which to harness my focus and fix my gaze.

But, regardless of the physical settings, my writing goes on constantly in my head. As my multi-tasking schedule dictates much of my day, words and sentences, ideas and themes will present themselves and thus, my writing space, and God's office, may become the line in the grocery store, the bedroom as I make the bed, the gas station as I fill my tank while I quickly jot them in an app on my phone.

God has blessed me with the love of books, words, and writing and has tasked me to use this passion in a way that will share the Gospel, encourage love and kindness, and hopefully edify those who may read my scribbles. As the Holy Spirit guides me, I will embrace the spaces that inspire words and stories, in whatever season it may be, and know that so long as I fix my gaze, I'll keep my focus in God's office.

Peggianne Wright is a published author and is the founder of the pet parent ministry Paws To Pray, blending her passion for the Lord and all-things-K9 to form this unique, faith-based community. Peggianne is an ardent Bible study student, devoted dog mom, wife of 44 years, and lover of music. Her blogs Spiritual Scribbles and Fur-Kid Fanatics can be found on her website www.PawsToPray.ca and you can follow her on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/PawsToPray/ and on IG @Sister_In_Prayer.

In The Quiet Spaces by Bob Jones

   

Quiet.

I thrive in quiet spaces.

I'm like a sheep that the Psalm 23rd shepherd leads beside still waters.

My writing gets done in several environments, but they share the common quality of quiet. Noise, sounds, music, and even the sound of a television show in a distant room are annoying distractions. I write best behind closed doors.

Most of my writing life is spent in a backroom in our home at an antique, roll top desk. My wife describes the desktop as a nightmare. It’s the opposite of quiet. It holds trophies awarded to our sons, books, pictures, a lantern, artwork, collectible Coke bottles and Jones soda bottles and items from Ukraine. It's a beast to dust.

There's a B&W framed picture of me holding my grandfather’s Chihuahua in front of his ’57 Chrysler when I was three years old.

Those items don't inspire my writing; they inspire my life because they’re rooted in history and the people who mean the world to me.

My favourite quote is taped to the front portion of the roll top.

“Concerning all acts of initiative in creation, there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. And all sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed could have come his way.”

Scottish mountaineer W.H. Murray

I write best in the fall, winter, and spring when it's cooler. Early mornings are the only time that work for me in the summer months. Our home does not have air conditioning, and by at 11 AM on most summer days the heat is already oppressive. So, the bulk of my writing gets crammed in between October and May.

I write something every day without fail.

Some days there's only three sentences. Other days, there's 3000 words. The outcome is determined by other responsibilities but also my frame of mind. I can easily bear down and focus when I'm inspired. A few hours feel like minutes. I imagine you know the feeling.

There are few things more fulfilling than hitting the publish button.

That quiets my heart.

 

 

I Will Write Words Everywhere by Lorrie Orr

 

Our May blog prompt is: Time and Place

Where do you write? Do you have a specific place and time? How often do you write? Are you easily distracted or do you need things around you to bounce your eyes off to inspire you? (suggested by Joy Bailey)

I Will Write Words Everywhere

(With apologies to Doctor Suess)

I will write words in my head

When I walk and in my bed

I will write words with my brain

In the sunshine and the rain.

I will write with pen and ink

But not when at the kitchen sink.

I will not write when I drive

For that’s a way to be un-alive.

 

If I want my words to be read

I will sit and think in my head

In a chair with my glasses on

Maybe in the early dawn.

And type and type with keys a-clacking

All the while my brain a-wracking.

 

I will write words here or there

I will write them on my chair

I will write them up or down

In my jeans or a dressing gown.

By a window is always best

To gaze outdoors for my eyes to rest.

On the keyboard my fingers fly

Like birds soaring in the sky.

A candle helps to set the mood

Along with flowers and perhaps some food.

 

I will write words here and there

I will write words everywhere

I like to write, now this is true

But where, oh where, do you?

Lorrie Orr writes from Vancouver Island where there is much scope for the imagination, as Anne Shirley once said. She's composed great works of literature in her head, but alas, the words have not made it to print. However, she has just published her first book, a memoir, soon to be released.

Read more of her breathless prose here:

(9) Lorrie Orr | Substack

 

Observing my Husband's Love for God's Creation by Sandra Rafuse

 

We were on our way to a winter holiday weekend in Winnipeg. It was a beautiful day. Bright sunshine bounced off the snow and the air was cold and crisp. We drove past fields littered with leftover sunflower stalks from the previous fall's harvest. Unexpectedly my husband, Bob, lifted his hand up to the front window and pointed outward. "Look at that snowy owl," he said. "It's a female." I did what any person in their right mind probably have done upon hearing that remark. I quickly bent forward and simultaneously lifted my arms up around my head to protect my face. Who wouldn't? At that time in my life, the only time I would see an owl through the front window of a moving car was if it was hitting the windshield! This pretty much sums up how much attention I gave to noticing wildlife or bird life of any kind in those days. But my husband, Bob, paid attention all the time. That owl was at least a mile down the road, sitting on the top bar of a telephone pole and he saw it right away. That didn't help me any as I had no idea where to even start looking to find it. It wasn't until we were driving past the pole it was sitting on that I recognized it, in the last place I'd expect to see an owl anyway.

When God created the heavens and the earth, He must have had Bob foremost in His mind. He must have known how Bob would love all of His creation, from the trees, the plants, the rivers and lakes, to the moon, the stars, the animals and the birds. I'm realizing that observing how my husband embraces God's creation opens my eyes and my mind to enjoy it more than I ever have before.

So for me, right now, watching and listening to Bob is what has been filling my creative container.

The Number Two Highway comes toward Rockglen from the north and curves into town to head east. It turns south on Columbus Drive and as soon as it does, you can see the hills at the end of the highway heading past the local gas station. Almost every time we drive down this street (and it's often), Bob says, "Aren't the hills beautiful?" or "Isn't that a wonderful sight?" There are many hills all around the land down here and he is familiar with many of them. Several years ago Bob planted a few spruce trees and several yucca  plants on the sides of a couple of the hills.  The yucca plants lived all this time and only died off about four years ago. Four of the trees have survived and one looks very good. I've been thinking of buying a small metal plaque that says "Bob's Tree" and attaching it to its trunk.

I have come a long way in learning to identify the wildlife and birds my husband points out to me every time we are travelling in a vehicle together. It took years for me to be able to see them. To really see  them. . .to locate them within seconds of his mentioning them.  "See the deer?" he asks, and I do. I see two of them standing on the highway, looking straight at us. So I quickly look to the left and to the right sides of the road because I know there are probably other deer nearby that might step up onto the highway in front of us at any moment and they have to be watched out for, too. "See the coyote?" he says, and I do. My eyes catch him racing away at high speed, putting distance between us, seeking safety in the fields. "See the sharptails (sharp-tailed grouse) buried in the snow?" he questions, and I do. I spot the tops of their dark backs pushing up out of the snow cover as they huddle near each other for warmth. It pleases me that I have learned to spot the wildlife and birds Bob loves so much

The most exhilarating sighting of a bird I have ever seen of my own happenstance happened one summer afternoon at a lake in southern British Columbia. I was ambling along the beach, paying no particular attention to anyone or anything. I glanced up and saw, to my astonishment, an osprey hovering over a spot above the water that had his full attention. His feet were extended out in front of him, and his sharp, curved talons were spread out. I stared with wide open eyes. He was several feet above the heads of a few children playing in the water and not far from some adults on the beach. Without warning, he plunged into the water and disappeared from sight. Several jaw-dropping seconds later, the tops of his wings broke through the surface. Then the rest of each wing surged up and out, and with powerful strokes of his long, narrow wings, he rose up out of the water and started flying away from the area. I almost didn't notice the large fish he held tightly in his talons as he rose higher and higher until he drifted out of sight. And other than myself, no one, not one person, saw what had unfolded so close to them. I saw him when no one else did.

Photo at top: Osprey by Dennis Derringer on Unsplash

Sandra Rafuse lives in the small town of Rockglen, Saskatchewan, with her husband, Bob, a Gordon Setter named Sadie, and a Peregrine falcon named Pete. She is a retired teacher, an amateur writer, and is thoroughly enjoying being a member of InScribe Christian Writers' Fellowship.