May 29, 2018

Writing Is Like A Marathon Of Hope by Bob Jones

Marathons take energy, focus, stamina and work. Grueling work.

My wife Jocelyn had this crazy idea that WE should run a marathon. In 2007, in our mid-50’s we followed Forrest Gump’s lead, started running and never looked back. 

Over the next ten months we ran thousands of kilometers in training. Up hills. Down hills. Snow. Rain. Heat. Thirst and hunger. Yes, hunger is a constant companion of marathoners. Energy bars, water, good shoes, dry socks, perseverance and endurance are a marathoner’s greatest assets. Plus being a little crazy.

After 10-mile and Half-marathon races for practice, Jocelyn and I completed all 42.3kms of the International Marathon in Niagara Falls, Ontario - October 2007.  We crossed the finish line with the last stragglers after nearly six hours of running. Injured, but we finished. And we have the medals to prove it.

In 2012 I took Anne Lamont’s lead, started writing and never looked back. My metaphor for writing is a marathon.

The writer’s life is a marathon not a sprint. Writing is a long devotion in the same direction.  Day after day, we put fountain pen to paper and write. Perseverance and stamina are a writer’s friends.

Long distance runners know that a marathon is not a series of sprints. Marathons must be paced. Settling early into a pace that allows for the greatest possibility of finishing is strategic.

A writing life needs to be paced. Measure your stride. The natural energy of an enthused start and early successes should be tempered by a finish line that is never in sight until the last moments of a run. Finishing is the goal but stride is the means to achieve the goal.

Writing, like marathon training for the most part, is lonely.  Writers work alone with their ideas, space, and hopes. We feel the loneliness of a long distance runner.

Writing is lonely however publishing is like long distance racing. Racers are never alone. Other runners, water station attendants and those wonderful cheerleaders with signs and noisemakers spread out over the 42.3km courses, encourage racers.

Fellow writers are in the same race. Readers of our blogs, posts, books and anthologies are like water station attendants. People who comment on our posts or review our books are like the encouragers along a race route.

A writer's hope is to engage, entertain, inform, inspire and in some small way make the world a better place for our readers. 

People who decide to become writers because of something they read of our writing are the ones who give us hope in our marathon.

Bob is a recovering perfectionist, who collects Coca-Cola memorabilia and drinks Iced Tea. His office walls are adorned with his sons’ framed football jerseys, and his library shelves, with soul food. He writes to inspire people to be real, grow an authentic faith in Jesus, enjoy healthy relationships and discover their life purpose.

Follow his writing at Pointes Of View.

May 28, 2018

I'm a Bible Junkie - Bruce Atchison

To me, studying the Bible is an addiction. I can't get enough of its history, poetry, wisdom, and characters. From listening to the scriptures aloud on my talking pocket Bible at breakfast to using an old CD-ROM to find verses when I write in the afternoon, I feel uncomfortable if I don't check out what the Word of God says.

Thanks to trailing-edge technology, I can copy and paste verses like Psalms 42:1 (KJV) into documents like this one. "To the chief Musician, Maschil, for the sons of Korah. 'As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.'"

That's how I feel when I listen to his Word or have my PC read it aloud. And the more I hear, the more I want to hear.

My addiction, unlike drugs, has only positive benefits. Moreover, what Paul wrote in 2 Timothy 3:15 (KJV) applies to meny of us as well. "And that from a child thou hast known the holy scriptures, which are able to make thee wise unto salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus."

Another benefit of truly studying God's Word is knowing his power. The Pharisees and Sadducees figured they could trap Jesus in his words with trick questions. But, as Mark 12:24 (KJV) records, "And Jesus answering said unto them, 'Do ye not therefore err, because ye know not the scriptures, neither the power of God?'"

Holy Scripture is more than stories and admonishments about how to live. As Hebrews 4:12 (KJV) explains, "For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart."

What a joy and awesome privilege it is to study the very words of God. As Paul wrote in 2 Timothy 3:16 (KJV), "All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness:"

Therefore, we must use such a powerful tool with care. Far too many people have misread and misquoted scriptures in order to affirm and confirm their point of view instead of being governed by the Word. May we all be like the Bereans who studied the scriptures to make sure what Paul said to them was the truth.

May 27, 2018

Fall Contests!

Fall Contest 2018 is opening soon. This is an opportunity for you to refine your work, get feedback from a judge/professional writer, and maybe win a cash prize.

Here are the categories you can enter:
            Devotional – Up to 300 words, including scripture.
            Poetry – Any style, up to 40 lines
            Nonfiction Essay to Conference theme, “The Art of Words”, up to 1500 words
            Adult Fiction – Any genre, up to 1250 words
            Songwriting – Any genre, MP3 recording & 1-2 pages lyrics with chords

Judges are chosen from professional writers and will provide feedback according to a set of marking guidelines called rubrics. It is to your advantage to look these over before you write your piece. They are specific for each category, and will help refine your writing. For example, one of the criteria on the rubrics is Format. If you follow the correct format, you will be awarded 5 marks. The 2018 rubrics will be posted on the website. Keep checking for them.  

Several contestants last year were really encouraged with their helpful critiques. A couple members share below: 

"I entered the Children's Easy Read - a category and genre I have never attempted to write. I anticipated the critique because I really wanted to learn from the judge’s comments about what I still needed in this new venture. I was not disappointed." (Carol Harrison)

When I ask for critique, I want more than a pat on the shoulder. The judge who offered comments on my contest entry gave me good critique, the kind that pushes me to improve. If I don’t know what I have missed or where I have written poorly, it’s very hard to know how to improve it! I appreciate the judge who trusted me with what I need.” (Pat Gerbrandt)

The deadline to send your entries is September 1st, 2018, and you will email your entries in an attached Word document to

Our Fall Contest 2018 Guidelines and Entry Form are being updated. Go to and select the “Contests” tab. Keep checking the website until you see the guidelines for 2018.

There is lots of time yet, so try writing several entries, and explore a new genre. You might surprise yourself with how much you like it! Have fun writing! We look forward to seeing everyone’s unique ideas.

Do you have questions? Please contact the contest coordinator at

Pam Mytroen

May 26, 2018

Metaphorically Speaking... Marnie Pohlmann

I was visiting my son and his family this past week while my husband took a course toward his Master's in Leadership degree. I have taken some classes at an undergraduate level, but this time I needed grandbaby hugs more than education. On this visit though, I have received both hugs and knowledge.

We don't see our grandchildren very often as we live in northern British Columbia and their family lives in Saskatchewan. Yet the youngest, my Sweet-Pea grand-girl, did not play strange with us and willingly snuggled in to read books between running to get into mischief or demanding with a combination of sounds and sign language what she wanted. My most favourite (and only) grandson, no longer a baby but a wonderful little boy, was quick to ask me to play Lego or go on imaginary superhero adventures. He often said, "me love you" and my heart would melt.

I was able to watch the grands by myself a few times during the week, and I soon remembered how exhausting parenting is! Two active young ones demanding attention had me going upstairs and down, inside and out, to play or to get snacks or to wash up dirty hands or bum. Somehow it was easier to balance firm discipline with loving grace while caring for my grands than it ever was with my own kids. Perhaps that was because I saw the generational potential of their unique personalities rather than suffer the angst of not knowing how to parent. Or because I was not also working, doing laundry and cleaning house in sleep-deprived exhaustion so I could enjoy a more relaxed time. (But what made me think I would have time to write and publish this post while visiting grandchildren!)

It has been said, "writing is like giving birth." Perhaps writer Flannery O'Connor described writing more accurately saying, "Writing is like giving birth to a piano sideways. Anyone who perseveres is either talented or nuts." (So, the question begs to be asked, am I talented or am I nuts? Or is it a combination of both that keeps me writing? And is it this question that keeps you reading to find the answer?) I digress...

Birth does not end the process of childbearing. That event is only the beginning. Parenting the baby takes a lifetime. No matter how old a child is, they will always be Mom and Dad's baby.

If writing is like birth, then parenting must be the editing process. Encouraging the lovely and being disciplined enough to correct the unlovely, such as improper verbiage or defiant grammar and punctuation. Editing can be a challenge and is exhausting yet is necessary for a child to be ready to be sent out into the world.

I have used the metaphor of parenting before in a post to describe how writing and faith are complete but never finished. I often use metaphors in my writing. I often see metaphors in my faith walk, and they help me make sense of life. It is how I process, and how I communicate.

This week as a visiting grandparent I have been given a new view. What is the grandparent role in writing? Or in faith?

We know the caricature of grandparents who spoil their children and then give them back to the parents to handle. "If mom says no, ask Gramma." The reality is, though, that most grandparents love their grands enough not to spoil them. They will be a little more lenient maybe, but loving grandparents still insist on "please" and "thank you" or "three more bites of broccoli before you get dessert." Grandparents who spend any amount of time with their grandchildren will do more parenting than spoiling. The caricature is not a true picture even though it is built on a portion of truth.

We also know writing, or any artistic representation, cannot take the place of living what is presented. Writers use metaphor as a tool to help readers see what they already know in order to lead them to another thought. 

I can see that grandparenting is not a good metaphor for writing. Like parenting, we never truly move on from being a writer. Perhaps we choose to play more than be disciplined but there are no grandparent writers, only writers.

And we know God has no grandchildren. Each person who recognizes God's sovereignty becomes His own child. He is Father, not Grandfather. Even His wisdom cannot be compared to a grandfather because He is so much wiser. God is simply much more than we can capture in a metaphor. Still, we try.

All metaphors, taken far enough, will fall apart. At most, they are micro-glimpses of just a small part of truth. Grandparenting for a couple days can suggest parenting but does not compare to parenting day in and day out. Grandparenting is perhaps only like writing in that we can choose when to play and when to practice discipline. And while God does love us like parents love their kids, parental love and even grandparent love still do not adequately capture the perfect balance of mercy and judgment that God provides.

This week I have learned that perhaps the best metaphor for writing is a faith walk, and the best metaphor for my faith walk is writing. Both contain elements of fun and discipline. Both have times when they are easy and when they are difficult. And neither is anything like grandparenting. Or are they? 

How would you expand on the statements "writing is like grandparenting" and "faith is like grandparenting?" Or would you just agree that writers must be a little nuts?

Marnie Pohlmann is a daughter of God, a gramma who loves her two beautiful grands, and a writer of metaphors and more. Phosphorescent, adventures in absorbing and reflecting God's light.

May 25, 2018

On and On By Vickie Stam


When I was a little girl I loved babies. My sister always said, "If we can't find Vickie, just look for someone with a baby and there she'll be." Haha...

I loved pushing a baby stroller and seeing there toothless grin when they smiled. If a child were old enough to walk, I wanted nothing more than to hold their hand and take them with me. Come play with me. The desire to be a mother was brewing inside of me at a young age.

I dreamed of having four children but after some complications during the birth of my second child I felt blessed that I was able to have two.

Now that my children are in their thirties.... oh my goodness - I'm thankful for the pictures that I have stored away in my box of treasures. The photos help keep the memories of their youth alive- more vivid. Their once beautiful blonde hair has now turned a darker shade of brown. And like all children, they grew up far too quickly.

That canvas in my life has definitely faded some. Without my beloved pictures I would find it impossible to recall every moment in time, every game we played, every book we read or every song we sang. Yet, one particular song still stands out like no other. It was more than just a little ditty. The year was 1992 and it was, "The song that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friend."

Shari Lewis was a puppeteer and the star of Lamb Chops Play-Along, a show that kept my children spellbound for twenty five minutes. I savoured that short period to time where I could take advantage of their being quiet - that is until the end of the show.

At the closing of each episode there was a catchy little tune that most kids could have easily caught onto. On the other hand, it was something that could have forced any parent to tear their hair out one strand at a time. The song went on and on and on.

These days, I can liken that tune to my writing. There is no end to it, at least not one that I'm aware of. My story isn't over. My life is like the song that never ends. It too will go on and on my friend.

You see.... The God who spoke and the world began has promised eternal life to those who believe in Him. I shall not perish. I shall have an everlasting life. 

1 Corinthians 15:22  "Look at this way: through Adam all of us die, but through the Anointed One all of us can live again."
                                   The Voice - Reader's Bible

As a writer, I use metaphors to paint my world, provide my readers with some clarity and enhance my story. Words, phrases and images all play an essential role in helping my readers unlock my stories true meaning.

Stories can blow you away ..... if you know what I mean   

May 22, 2018

Writing Is Like A Puppy by Alan Anderson

I love dogs. I love holding a puppy and even smelling puppy breath. My writing is like a puppy. You ask, “What do you mean?” That’s a good question. Here is why I liken my writing to a puppy.

As a dog lover it is wonderful to see a puppy grow into a healthy mature adult dog. It’s fun to watch puppies gain their confidence in walking and running. They also have little “accidents” as they are growing up. You may know what I mean.

I’m still growing as a writer. Like a growing pup I can have a writer’s “accidents.” These are things like too many “ly” or using “ing” words too often in my writing.

A puppy need not be a pure bred for me to love it. The sweetest dog I ever had in my life was a Border Collie Spaniel cross. She was one of my best friends. She had the personality of a working dog as well as a companion dog. She would embrace life with gusto during the day and snuggle on my easy chair with me in the evening.

I don’t worry about my writing being a pure bred either. What I mean is, I don’t class myself as a fiction or non-fiction writer, I just write. I love to write about real life that may appear dark or somber with a gleam of hope ahead. That is what my blog Scarred Joy is all about. Scarred joy is like my working dog writing so to speak.

I also love to write stories based on real life experiences. Right now I’m working on a story of a young boy with a rare illness. In addition I have another story of a boy and his grandfather. It is about their relationship as grandfather lives in the fog of Alzheimer’s disease. I want to write this story as one suitable for children. Both these stories may be like a companion dog writing.

It’s fun to play with a puppy and see her or him run after a ball and catch it. One of the dogs I loved became skilled at catching Frisbees. As she became older she had more injuries and we had to stop playing Frisbee. My pup had grown old. She lived a long life for a dog. I was with her during all the chapters of her life right to the final sentence.

If God grants me more years and to experience old age here is what I hope and pray for. If the day comes I can no longer hold a pen I pray I can look back on words I have written and know they brought comfort to broken hearts.

I also pray I will have crossed the paths of other writers and played with them. In other words, I like to have a writing buddy. I like to know other writers. My present writing buddy and I have never met in person. We exchange emails and send each other pieces of our writing to critique. It is a lot of fun. My writing buddy is precious to me.

When my days are done I pray my writing will have matured and been noticed by those who hurt yet see hope ahead. Just like an old faithful dog I pray I will have made a difference in the lives of people. That’s what a good dog does.


May 21, 2018

Life's an Obstacle Course ... by Jocelyn Faire

I'd thought this post was going to be easier ... as I've often said Life is full of metaphors. Life's a kayak ride, a gong show, a three ring circus, a journey, a puzzle, a tapestry, a simile ... When we use a metaphor we say something is, when we use a simile we say something is like something, thus putting a maybe in front of the comparison. Instead of a metaphor's declaration, it becomes more of a suggestion. A subtle difference, to be sure, but I am aware that that was one aspect of my struggle; the confidence to say that my life is or my writing is ... because that would be saying my life and my words matter. A metaphor also adds a bold finality, and my life seems variable and metaphors only go so far, and oh I do believe I am overthinking this issue. (see step 5 below) However, I do recognize a hesitancy in those of us who feel less confidant in our writing. So on that note, (thus far my post is a long apology note) I declare two different metaphors for this time in my life.

My life is an obstacle course. Since my ski injury (which resulted in a fracture and torn ligaments in my left knee) I have been hobbling around with crutches and a wheel chair. Navigating walkways was something I never considered before; small scatter rugs tripped easily. Wondering if a place had stairs caused me to rethink my plans. It could be easy to sit it out instead of rising to the challenge. Who would have thought that three small steps were cause enough to change plans? A week ago I set out to visit the small local art gallery. The beautiful paintings seen through the window lured me in—or tried to. At the entrance I realized it was impossible for me, because it meant pushing and holding a heavy door open while leaping over a four inch rise with telephone poles under my armpits. Physically I couldn't do it. There was no one within sight to hold the door and no auto press opener. Nose to glass I admired what I could and left, feeling somewhat defeated. This injury has been a real eye opener and has increased my admiration a hundred fold for those people that navigate life-long emotional or physical obstacles on a daily basis. And the stair cases are the biggest obstacles. I have tripped a few times with crutches trying to reach new heights. Those stair cases rise up to mock me and hold me back. As I've contemplated metaphors, I've wondered about the steps that hold me back in my life and in my writing. My list will be different from yours, but here are some to think about:
1)Distraction ... Procrastination: my good morning intentions can
easily be distracted by messages, tidying, getting my coffee just right, or thinking I don't have quite enough time to start it.
2) Doubts & Fear (3)Lack of self confidence. Numbers 2&3 have similarities. Fear of failure, and doubting my voice. These fears that can nag and erode self confidence. Too often I forget that I am a uniquely created human being ... too often I get caught up in the comparison game, thinking my little offering is too small. I get caught up in the cultural value of doing instead of being ... and I fall for the trap of productivity over contemplation.
4)Perfectionism ... too much time spent on finding just the right picture to go with the blog. We are haunted by the misinterpreted verse that says “Be perfect as your heavenly father is perfect.” We will never achieve that. For the most part I accept who I am and I'm thankful for deadlines ... at some point you just hit “send” and trust that you have done the best you could for that time.
5)Overthinking .... This one made me laugh out loud. One simply must take the time to think, but when does it become navel gazing? There is no definitive answer on that one. Tim Dennings says that: Too much information is part of the reason we overthink. Thinking uses up our precious energy. Not bringing thoughts, ideas and decisions to a conclusion causes us to overthink. “The space between yes and no is overthinking. Most people live their entire lives in this space.” 

Three things that have helped me navigate the stairs is 1) Patience/Practise 2)leaning on my crutches—my sister once accused me that my faith was a crutch! She meant it negatively, but it is a positive to have someone/something to lean on 3)Listening to the wisdom of my physio therapist and others who inspire.
The beauty of the staircase is that while we have the ups and downs, we are given just enough light for the step we are on and enough lift to step up. Life is beautiful and we need to strengthen our legs for the climb.

My second metaphor is much shorter and something that developed over time.

My faith life is the beauty of the garden tree in fall. The weathered tree trunk shows scarred bark, a wound healed over where a large limb had been severed, twisting branches reach upwards to the sunlight which sparkles through the autumn leaves, a few unpicked apples glisten like jewels, roots sunk deep into the soil ... I have matured into foliage.

Jocelyn also blogs at:
 Crutch cartoon by seen at

May 19, 2018

Hearts and Buds by Eunice Matchett

Winter has finally loosened its hold. The snow is gone, but behind it, is hours of work. Raking, mowing, trimming, the list goes on and on. A couple weeks back, when I was raking my front lawn, fatigue overcame me. I laid my rake down, by the forsythia tree, noting the expanding buds on the branches, and went inside to rest.

An hour later, I bent to pick up my rake, and wow, the buds on the top half of the tree had exploded into beautiful yellow flowers. I could not believe what I was seeing and stared at it like an enthralled child. In all my springs, I have never seen such a rapid transformation.

It took me back many years, to a little country school house that served as a church on Sundays, where I gave my heart to Christ. Although no buds exploded into blossoms that day, something awoke inside me that made me want to jump and run. Sadness that gripped my eight-year-old mind disappeared. I had a brand-new friend who loved me and lived right inside me.

Church became an adventure, rather than boring as it had before. Each week I learned a fresh dimension of my new life. At first the lessons were simple. David and Goliath, Esther, Ruth and Boaz. and how their experiences related to my own life. Later, I learned about the Paul’s life and how relevant his teachings are today.

No, life didn’t remain on such a high. I was eight years old and continued to get myself into trouble as I explored my boundaries. But my conscience sharpened. I grew a respect for ‘do not enter’ commands. Most of the time. Those times I ignored the silent red flags I suffered the consequences of my foolish actions. And regretted them, but not alone. Jesus stayed with me, offering forgiveness, and strength to refrain from making the same mistake again.

As years pass, the trials I encounter change. Some, I wonder how I survived, but no matter what happens, I am very aware that I’m not alone. Jesus is with me.  Regardless of how many times my own limited thinking has led me onto unstable ground, Jesus never turns away or gives up on me. All I need to do is ask Him for help.

May 18, 2018

Like A River - Gloria Guest

Water is a part of who I am. It winds its way like a river through my soul and cascades like a hidden waterfall  in my spirit. And so in thinking about this month's topic I couldn't get my mind off of a blog post I'd actually written about being a Mother  a few years ago. I thought of interchanging the words mother for writer and then, with Mother's Day just past and with me about to be a Grand-Mother again in just a few weeks, I  decided to take some poetic licence with this months topic and let you read it as it is. As it is, I find that most of my writing is relational and springs from my relationships with those God has placed in my life.
I hope that you will be able to also relate it though to writing and how we draw from a source greater than ourselves as writers.

A river also describes my spiritual journey. Creator God has taken me from a young child and poured his healing waters into my many cracks and broken, dry places bringing me to life again. Some days it feels  more like only a tiny rivulet breaking through but I have learnt that God can do mighty things with even that.  

Like a River

Motherhood has been compared to many things such as a budding flower or a sheltering tree but for myself, thinking back over my thirty years of being a mom, I see my experience of motherhood as being more like a river.

My middle name of Lynn, means cascade or waterfall so perhaps that is why I have always felt an affinity to water, rivers and water falls. But I’m sure it’s also due to the fact that I spent my formative years in Fergus, Ontario where the beautiful Grand River runs through the town first named Little Falls because of its scenic water falls downtown. [1] From there it travels through the quaint town of Elora where I spent my Junior High School years and spills into the Elora Gorge with its 22 metre high cliffs and where many a school truant spent their afternoons diving from the high rocks and swimming in the gorge’s deep blue waters.

My high school years were then spent in Athabasca, Alberta  where the fast-moving Athabasca River originating from the Columbia Glacier rushes through the town. Flowing along ice fields and through gorges, its banks home to many wildlife habitat [2], one can almost envision the fur traders that once traveled by canoe up and down its dangerous current.

Standing beside the Falls of the Grand River flowing through Fergus, Ont. where I grew up.

To me, rivers are life-giving, steadfast, fascinating in their ebb and flow and determination to move forward no matter the obstacles in its path. Ever changing, the river flows from a source often larger than itself ; sometimes rushing, diverging and then converging again; other times cascading gently over small rocks and through gully’s to eventually turn off into a babbling brook running through the woods or even become the tiniest of rivulets breaking through a crevice. But always, whether it’s a mighty force or a small stream it flows onwards towards a definite course; winding gently around obstacles or grinding them down with its powerful current; the river simply never stops until it reaches its destination; a channel, lake or sea.

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Four generations 1990; last picture with mom

As a mother, I too have garnered my determination and adaptability from a source larger than myself, with God being my greatest source and the underlying current that has kept me moving steadily forward. However there have been other sources given to me by God to help me along the way; diverging streams that have joined eventually with my own, adding their energy and life-giving strength to my own, teaching me, guiding me with a wisdom that can only come from their own experience of motherhood.

I think of my grandmother who was in my life until she was 97 yrs. of age. I could never know as I was growing up, that her steadfast love of mothering her own six children through the depression years, and then becoming a doting, loving and joyful grandmother to myself and her other 23 grandchildren and eventual 55 great-grandchildren, would leave such an indelible mark on my life. But as I move further into my life I find that it has; her rich legacy winding its way into my mother heart and soul so that I often find myself thinking of her and how she would have viewed a particular trial or challenge. She has become a part of the river for me; a source of inspiration.

Her daughter, my mother, is the woman who formed, nurtured and loved me the most during my childhood years. Mom had many of her mother’s qualities of perseverance and courage. She too has been a source larger than myself for me even though she passed away while my children were still babies. Her diagnosis of cancer when she was only thirty-six years old and I sixteen became a twelve-year fight to overcome; through her example to live her life to the fullest despite her circumstances, I draw some of my strength and hope when I face circumstances that I feel are too much to bear. And in spite of her not being there to turn to while my children were growing up, I’ve often found myself repeating something that she did with me as a child or saying something she used to say to me to my own children. Our mothers are always a part of us; guiding us and moving us forward whether they are with us or not.

There can be many other sources larger than ourselves that we come to rely on for a season; perhaps a mentor, friend, sister or counsellor. Anyone who comes along and flows and bends with us through the curves of the river of life can be part of that underlying force that carries us on through those rough spots, teaching us how to persevere and either adapt and flow around a particular obstacle or grit our teeth and find a way through it. Eventually we will come out the other side, wiser, stronger, perhaps not as we had envisioned, but always moving forward, through the rocks and boulevards, steady, streaming, onwards towards our destination where we join with generations of mothers, just like ourselves. From there, with God as our constant source, we can flow into other streams and rivers; joining and supporting them along their path as a mother; like a river.
Introducing my grand-daughters to their new baby sister

Gloria Lynn writes and blogs from her home in Caron, Sk; where her husband, children and grand-children light up her world anytime that they come through the door.