Seasons and Change by Mary Folkerts

 

There is a change in the air, the morning feels a bit crisper, the smells of the ripening harvest warm in the lingering golden sun. The calendar tells me that summer is wrapping up and fall is taking its place. It doesn't ask if I am ready; it just comes when it comes.

Seasons are like that. They don't wait for our permission to shift from one to the next. They slide past whether we have had our fill or not. Where I live, seasons are usually quite recognizable when we're smack dab in the middle of them, with their snowy winters and hot summers, shy springs and colourful autumns. It's the transitions from one season to the next that can sometimes be tricky to gauge.

Life, too, has its many seasons, some soft and easy like spring, new with possibilities. Others, like winter, we resist for their harsh, unforgiving ways. But always, they come as sure as the rising sun. Some we see coming from a distance, gently, and expected. Others come in swiftly like a too-early snowstorm.

My parents received a phone call the other week, which threw them into a new season without much forewarning. They are now trying to wrap their minds around assisted living after a lifetime of independence. And oh, how we struggle with change, even in the twilight of our years! Though we have experienced change at every stage of life, it never seems to get easier!

We love what we know, even if it's difficult, because the difficult we know feels safer than the unknown. As I write, I gaze out on the corn field standing tall in the evening sun. The season of planting is long gone, and the season of growing is coming to an end. Soon, the harvest will be upon us, and lastly, the season where the soil rests. Each season for a purpose, as God has ordained it to be good.

Can we recognize each season of life as for our good? Can we see the season of waiting as beneficial to growing our reliance on God's timing? Can we view the desert season as a time when we trust God's presence, even when we can't feel it? Can we trust the God of the seasons to give us all we need in our seasons of change?


Seasons and change
like the falling leaves
and the spent flower
leave a sadness
with their
fading
beauty.

Change is hard
unfamiliar and
uncertain--
with a dirge of
lament we resist
the becoming.
“Let’s just always stay
The same!”
But without change
comes
deadness.

And what if it’s not
the end
but the beginning
of a new story,
unwritten and
unscripted?
A new season
with beauty
unexpected?

I can be sad
that it’s over
or I can smile that it happened.
I can dig in my heels
or march bravely on
into change.
Either way
it will
come.

And as the God of
the seasons
designs spring to
follow winter,
so he allows the
seasons of change
in our lives
for our growing
and becoming.

For change is the medium
in which a seed of faith
has the opportunity
to grow and
flourish
into something
beautiful.

Mary Folkerts is mom to four kids and wife to a farmer, living on the southern prairies of Alberta, where the skies are large and the sunsets stunning. She is a member of Proverbs 31 Ministries' COMPEL Writers Training, involved in church ministries and music. Mary’s blog aims to encourage and inspire women and advocate for those with Down Syndrome, as their youngest child introduced them to this extraordinary new world. For more inspiration, check out Joy in the Small Things https://maryfolkerts.com/ or connect on Instagram https://www.instagram.com/maryfolkerts/

 

Swiftly Flow the Days by Joylene M Bailey

 

Sunrise, sunset

Sunrise, sunset

Swiftly flow the days

Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers

Blossoming even as they gaze.

- Sheldon Harnick -

~~~~~

What I love about living in the country is that the seasons are amplified. From my library window I can watch a wheat field turn from baby green to rippling ripe blonde.

Every spring, we look forward to the calves and lambs and orange-red baby bison we know we'll see on our drive to the nearby town. As the season stretches on, so the babies themselves stretch and grow and change. 

Before long, big round bales of straw have replaced the wheat I saw waving in the field. Almost at once those are gone, and the field is white with deep snow, broken only by a Mama moose and her half-grown calf effortlessly skimming across it.

It is comforting to me to know that, without fail, the seasons will come and go. But watching them come and go wrenches emotions from me. Like seasons of life, I can wave goodbye and Good Riddance to a season that is going. Or, if it was an especially good one, I hang on as long as I can before moving into the next, which I can either welcome or dread.

What has captured my thoughts all my life is that things are always, always changing. Isn't that why we take photographs? We want to freeze a moment in time. But the truth is, regardless of whether we move ahead with apprehension or expectancy, we are always moving ahead. Leaving the past behind.

Children grow up, family members pass on, we move to new homes, walk ourselves and our friends through periods of heartache and hardship. Some seasons are rough, others full of contentment and joy. Some are periods of busy, hurry, purpose. Other times last forever when the waiting is excruciating. Most seasons carry sprinklings of everything, and most of us have been through them all. We rejoice and we lament.

I was captivated by the words of an elderly woman who was asked about her long life. "Some decades are hard," was her simple reply. That just about says it all.

~~~~~

You hurt and you heal, you build and release, and it's all part of the same process: it's life.

- Jennifer Healey -

healingbrave.com

~~~~~

               ~~~~~                  

It is perhaps fortunate that we can't see far enough down the path into the next season. Over the next hill, around the next bend, is the mysterious unknown. 

I keep telling people I'm in my flower era. I love anything with flowers on them. Notecards, notebooks, quilt fabric, clothing, even my purse is an explosion of flowers. I recently stopped myself before buying a pair of shoes covered in pretty flowers, thinking maybe that was taking things a little too far. And also, I don't need another pair of shoes.

But I'm also in a season of chronic pain, which, on the worst days, hangs like a cloud over all aspects of life. The focus of this year has been to try to figure things out and get some relief. I wish I could look around that bend in the path and see what the next ten years look like. More of the same? Or a totally transformed me. I can't see around the bend, however, and must trust that my Father knows the path ahead. I must put my hand in His, trust Him with the journey, and do everything I can to walk this path with joy. 

If you are in a difficult season, I pray you sense God's lovingkindness and mercy. If your life is mostly well these days, may God grant you grace, peace, and rest.

~~~~~

Some of the trees around our place are already turning colour. It seems too soon. Is Madame Autumn already here? At first, I'm shocked that summer could be gone so soon, but after a few seconds I find myself thinking of the cooler evenings ahead. I anticipate a walk through crunchy leaves, and that familiar nip in the air. I'm hopeful for the next chapter. Rather than look back, I turn towards the new season, as late summer sunflowers turn towards the sun.

~~~~~

                All the trees are losing their leaves, and not one of them is worried.

- Donald Miller -

~~~~~

All photos from Pixabay.

Joy lives with The Cowboy and their livestock (two cats and a dog) at The Cleft in lake country, Alberta. It's been a busy summer at The Cleft, full of visits from family and friends, and one very happy Corgi.

Joy writes stories for children, short stories, articles, and poetry, and is working on a longer work of fiction. Find more of her joy-infused writing at Scraps of Joy.  

Seasons of the Spirit ~ Valerie Ronald

I spent much of my life on Vancouver Island, BC, on the temperate west coast of Canada. The seasons there are less defined than other parts of the country, with rainy falls and winters blending into long, gentle springs and mild summers. Now living on the prairies, I appreciate having four defined seasons, each having distinctive traits and beauty.

“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven,” pens Solomon, the writer of Ecclesiastes (3:1). Then he lists what he perceives as the cyclical events of human life set forth in the providence of God. Birth and death, planting and uprooting, speaking and silence, war and peace˗˗all have an appointed time according to God’s purposes. “And He has made everything beautiful in its time.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11 NIV)

If there is a season for everything and a time for every purpose under heaven, then my spiritual life has seasons as well. My relationship with God is shaped more like an ever-widening circle than a straight line. This infinite curve is never static˗˗it undulates with the tides of growth and dormancy, mountaintop and valley, passion and complacency. I cannot say I enjoy every spiritual season, but I understand that each one is useful and necessary, and that God has a purpose for it.

In my spiritual fall season, I sense a need to prepare, storing up the things of God in my heart to be ready for whatever the future holds. As a farmer spends fall harvesting and storing his crops to prepare for winter, so God leads me to store up for myself treasures in heaven to strengthen me for the winters of my life. (Matt. 6:19-20) When I look back at difficulties I’ve experienced, I see that God often gave me a hunger to learn more and go deeper with Him in the time leading up to those difficulties. Fall can be cold and bleak, but it does not need to be barren when God provides abundant harvest for the soul to store up.

The world appears lifeless in the deep cold of winter, when in fact it is dormant, in an inactive state to survive adverse environmental conditions. There is purpose in dormancy, even dormancy of the soul. “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10) If all I know when my heart is cold is that God is God, then that is enough. My soul life is in spiritual dormancy, deeply hidden, inactive, yet alive all the same. When God breathes warmth back into that minuscule spark of life, my soul stirs from its hibernation, the ice of winter begins to thaw, and it is revived.

The words spring and hope go naturally together in my mind. When spring stirs, my spirit rejoices in the resurgence of life, promising hope and continuity. Spiritual hope projects all the way to eternity, not as a possibility but as a surety, an anchor for my soul, because God’s promise in Jesus Christ is not a maybe thing. “Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.” (Hebrews 10:23) The hope contained in the prospect of eternal life with Christ, fulfilled in His presence, gives me joy and energy, like a spring lamb bouncing around a grassy field. The surety of hope in Him removes fear of death, opening the endless possibilities of heaven.

I live in a fruitful farming area where summer is a season of fertile land bursting with crops of vegetables and grain. I never tire of seeing the abundance of provision growing on the land. A spiritual season of fruitfulness can contain many aspects, like varied rows of vegetables in a garden. There is the personal fruit of intimacy with God, the fruit of selfless labour and sacrifice, the fruit of encouraging others in their spiritual walk, the fruit of sharing the truths of God with those who don’t know Him, and the fruit of prayers offered up for loved ones, to name a few. Spiritual fruitfulness depends on staying connected to Jesus. “Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me.” (John 15:4) I know I cannot be fruitful on my own, so to bear spiritual fruit in each season I must abide in Christ, whose Spirit provides all I need.

The thing about spiritual seasons is that they always come around again, each one bringing more opportunities to discover the things God has made beautiful in His time.

See the changing of the seasons. All things change in nature; so do you and the seasons of life. Embrace change! God is there in the aridity, the new beginning, the fertility and the changing colours of life. ~ Christine Adam 

  

Valerie Ronald writes from an old roll top desk in Portage la Prairie, Manitoba, with her tortoiseshell cat for a muse. A graduate of Langara College School of Journalism, she writes devotionals, fiction, and inspirational prose. Her purpose in writing is to encourage others to grow in their spiritual walk. 

Seasons of Life: Then and Now by Alan Anderson

 

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NIV)


Writing prompt: Write about a season you are currently experiencing or have experienced. How did God meet your needs during this season? How did it affect your writing life?

 

Now and Then

The seasons of our lives, the blessings and crushing challenges all make up our stories.

A couple of weeks ago, while preparing this month’s blog post, I listened to music on YouTube. Lo-and-behold I found a recent video of a new song by The Beatles, the favourite band of my youth and even today. The song’s title is Now and Then. The video is a masterpiece of today’s technological wonders.

The Now and Then video calls me back to a season in life when my beloved parents were alive and well. This was a season when I was in the grips of my high school years and determining where I fit into the world. I now look back on my younger years and ask, where did the years, the seasons, go?

Seasons Change

Life has been heavy at times and strewn with the lashes of storms amid cloud-covered seasons. Seasons when the storms of life crushed my soul, such as my two-year period of ministry burnout and the years when my father, then my mother, entered heaven.

The year 2019 brought a season of clouds, a season that lasted for two years. As one who loves nature, it was as if the clouds were at war with the sun. This was like a dark season, where trees bowed in despair and dropped their leaves in a forever winter. I viewed life as a mountain, where brambles and thorns covered the road to heaven. Such a long road. The Enemy tried to convince me God had forsaken me and left me alone.

I thank the Lord that cloudy seasons give way to seasons of warmth, where the sun breaks through. What I must also remember is that God is in the storms and I am not alone.

A Season to Write

This reality of cloudy seasons, however, allowed me to keep on writing. This was no act of valor but an expression of faith.

My mind records the year 2015 as the year my writing took flight. Our beloved Tracy Krauss asked me to write for our InScribe blog, and I have been contributing to the blog ever since. Not long after this tremendous honour, my dear friend Glynis M. Belec gave me an opportunity to contribute to a book on grief. In 2017, the publisher released the book Good Grief People.

Now, in the autumn of my life, I work at laying aside the weight and clearing the brambles of my past. In this season, I pray to God I can publish at least a couple of writing projects before my pen dries up.

Dear readers, please allow me to suggest that one’s cloudy seasons help one nurture and confirm a call to write. One can release words into the world; with prayers they help others.

When the winter of life comes upon me, I will look forward to one day knocking on heaven’s door and being ushered into the presence of God. I will then know beyond all doubt that all the seasons of life worked together for good.

Concluding Thoughts

Dear friends, we may experience seasons of life with huggable embraces while others we wish we could run from. These times, both blessing and suffering, are all part of the life God has granted to us. May we all stay faithful and endure the times, the seasons, we experience as we live this life.

Our seasons of life all lead to heaven. When we reach the place where God is, we will know this life was worth all we had to endure. Come, Lord Jesus, come!

Alan lives in a small village called Deroche, British Columbia, with his wife, Terry, and their poodle, Charlie. He enjoys walking on the dike near his home with trees all around and where he finds inspiration to write. He occasionally writes articles for FellowScript Magazine and is a regular contributor to the InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship blog. Alan’s website and blog is https://scarredjoy.ca.

Seasons by Lorilee Guenter

 

Winter, spring, summer, fall. 

Which is your favourite season? I do not have an answer to that question. Each season has its draws and its drawbacks. But how can you like {season}? The chosen season to hate on is usually winter with its bone-chilling cold.

I like the crisp, clear days where the air sparkles with tiny, suspended drops of moisture. I enjoy brewing a mug of tea or hot chocolate, grabbing a blanket, and experiencing the quiet that cold seems to produce. I recognise the period of dormancy nature undergoes during winter. In time, unseen life will make its presence known.

I enjoy spring where each day brings something new as the white turns to muddy brown, then one by one plants push through until the whole palette is visible. Just as an artist places one brush stroke and then another, God wakes up the plants in order.

Summer shines with its long days of abundance. Some days it seems like you can see the plants grow as they stretch and bloom. I wander through my yard almost daily and delight in the changes.

Autumn brings crumbly leaves that I must step on to hear the satisfying crunch.  Trees take on vibrant hues as the flowers fade. A new coolness brings a reprieve from the heat. Vegetable soups simmer in place of summer salads.

While I have learned to enjoy all of the seasons, the lessons learned have not transferred to my writing life. Seasons of dormancy frustrate me. Intellectually I know this is a time of pondering. The ideas simmer beneath the surface waiting for the appropriate time to sprout. The seasons of abundance leave me scrambling as I try to bring my thoughts into order. I find myself longing for a slower pace. How quickly the frustration of the drought disappears. 

During summer, my writing slows. I am pulled outside by many activities. This year, I am trying to embrace the change. I trust the experiences will give rise to a new season of wordplay. It always does. And why wouldn't it? God has always been faithful not matter the season. He won't change now.

This summer I am attempting to embrace the season of rest in my creative life. I am choosing to let God refresh my soul. The writing continues at a slow pace. In between, I savour the tart juice of a raspberry just plucked from a plant. I pause to listen to the birdsong. I smile in gratitude at God's creation. Come fall I expect to pick up my pen with more frequency as God stirs the well of ideas and breathes life into new works. It is His way, for me at least.

I would like to look at my creative seasons as I do the created seasons. Each has a purpose. Each year I am able to reflect a little more and in doing so, I recognise God's hand in each moment. They are gifts from Him. In His hands, I flourish in a healthy, sustainable way.

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

Winter of Grief by Carol Harrison

 

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.” Ecclesiastes 3:1,4

It’s been a winter season of mourning and trying to figure out a new normal since my husband, Brian, passed away. It’s been almost two years and yet sometimes it feels like yesterday.

It’s been a season filled with much weeping, especially in the first year. I’ve been exhausted. The journey with him through the cancer was long and tiring for both of us.

At the beginning and occasionally even now, it’s felt disloyal to move forward, to embrace a time of laughing again. Yet remaining stuck in grief is not the answer. At times I feel I should have moved forward further than I have.

I felt lonely and still often do and even second guess decisions I make or need to make. My partner is no longer here to discuss them with. Yet he never wanted me to stop living life to the fullest I can. It just wasn’t his desire for me once he no longer lived his pain-filled life.

So how has God provided for me as I move through grief and this time of mourning? God gave me a wonderfully supportive family who are there for me, check up on me and just care. Then He provided encouraging friends. One in particular, who lives at a distance, texts often. Sometimes the chat contains daily life activities. Often he asks how I am doing and waits for an honest answer. There are no platitudes, just genuine care and concern. I also have a great Christian counsellor who listens well as I share this journey. In all, God has given me a wonderful support system which helps offset some of the loneliness.

Yet this season of grief and dealing with details of funeral and estate along with daily life has left me feeing uncreative. All I’ve written for over two years is the monthly blog post which has taken much work and has often been difficult. I ask when will creativity flow once more? When will discouragement fade? When will the time of laughter ring out?

One day at a time. Sometimes hour by hour I’ve been walking through this winter season of life, waiting for a time to fully embrace the new normal of life, including finding my way to more writing and crafting. It will come in time – God’s timing and not mine. I pray I hear the nudge when he presents it.

 

Carol Harrison lives in Saskatoon, SK. The winter photo above was taken from the train in Northern Ontario a few years ago on one of their memory making trips. Carol is in a season of waiting for the spring of creativity to bloom.




 

Seasons of Life and Writing by Sharon Heagy

Photo collage by Sharon Heagy

Seasons have existed since the creation of the earth when God created "lights in the expanse of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark seasons and days and years." (Genesis 1:14 NIV) In Canada, we have four very distinct seasons which is one of the reasons I wouldn't want to live anywhere else. There is a gradual awakening in the Spring, when plants and animals stretch and yawn and come to life again. Summer brings continued growth of vegetation and creatures alike until the daylight hours begin to dwindle. As winter approaches, autumn leaves give a farewell party and don their most brilliant colours in a final dance. Some leap from the tree and get caught in tiny, joyful whirlwinds, while others float gracefully yet reluctantly to the ground. Animals begin to look for cozy dens to curl up in during hibernation and the skies are filled with the sound of south bound birds honking like they're caught in a traffic jam. The cold frosty winters force plants to shrink once again beneath the surface of the soil. Some beasts slumber and some grow thick winter hair. Winter is a season of rest and rejuvenation and the only energy expended is to keep warm.

Human beings have seasons of life, and seasons within those seasons. Our first season is defined by age. Baby, toddler, youth, tween, teen, young adult, adult, old adult, really old adult and geezer. The latter four are defined from the perspective of those under thirty years of age. We have seasons to be educated, earn a living, have children, have grandchildren. Seasons of health and happiness, seasons of sickness and despair. Seasons of loss. Seasons when we wish we could, like the animals, hide in hibernation until the world is set right again but we know this won't happen this side of heaven. We learn to adapt and morph and change and the seasons pass.

The writing life has seasons too. There is a time when everything is fresh and new, exhilarating and exciting! We are beginning our journey and absorb all we can like an unsaturated sponge. The structure may be a little wobbly but strong foundations are being formed.

As we gain a little knowledge we become intermediate writers. We're still intimidated and hesitant to share our work with others but the foundation has become firm and the structure needs less help. We learn about the art of editing and the thrill of turning a phrase just so or finding the word that means precisely what we are trying to express. Added to the initial excitement of the beginner, the intermediate writer develops a deeper affection for the craft.

What follows the intermediate writer is a writer of experience. One willing to share freely, knowing God has something to say through them in a way only they can say it. They walk in obedience, seeking Him for inspiration. Everything they work on is girded with His foundation and built brick upon brick like a Lego castle, reaching beyond anything they have ever done. They know they will get past any writer's block or interference. These writers are willing to do the work, the daily grind, stretching themselves and their skills towards perfection. Though skill and talent exude through their pores, they know there is always more to learn. Writing is such an integral part of life they cannot give it up any more than they could stop breathing. It is a sanctuary, a sacred endeavour. Affection turns to adoration.

Part of the challenge of this month’s prompt was to examine the season we are currently undergoing. When I look at my own writing life, I would consider myself a little bit of a beginner who is well into the intermediate season and one who may someday become one of the experienced. I have the privilege of knowing some accomplished writers and I listen to their words and encouragement with hope. They are amazing people who mentor and instruct others without even knowing. You probably know some of them too. Many are within the InScribe family. Writing is seldom a totally solitary endeavour. We need each other. As the stretching and shaping of my writing life continues, I think I will stick around and stick to it until God calls me to another level beyond myself. I hope you do too. It only gets better and richer and there are many seasons yet to come.

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

Processing the Seasons of Life by Steph Beth Nickel

 

Fountain Pen Note Notebook - Free photo on Pixabay

It's my guess that you're facing challenges of one description or another, no matter what season of life you're in.

You may be a young person wondering what the 2025/2026 schoolyear holds in store.

A 20-something just getting started with your adult life. So many decisions to make!

Maybe you're in your 30s, 40s, or 50s, deep in the weeds of "adulting." (I wasn't sure about that word when I first heard it either, but it's grown on me.)

And then, there are those of us in our 60s and 70s and beyond, facing the fall and winter seasons of life.

Whatever our age or our situation, there is one thing that will help us all process our thoughts and feelings.

And that's...

Writing.

Of course you may be writing for "the public." Books. Articles. Blog posts.

But there are several types of writing we can do that others will never see, not if we don't want them to.

Julia Cameron developed the idea of "morning pages," three pages of uncensored, unedited streams of consciousness put to paper before we officially begin our day. Because there is a psychological difference between writing by hand and writing on the computer, she encourages readers to use pen and paper. I did so for awhile and found it super helpful. I may have to return to the practice.

I'm currently making a brief entry in my journal at the end of most days. I first heard about line-a-day diaries from podcaster and author Kendra Adachi. This is perfect for recording 1-4 sentences that sum up each day. No matter how tired we are or how unmotivated we feel, most of us can bring ourselves to complete this exercise.

And then there's what I call "rambling until we stumble upon truth." I haven't done this type of journaling in several years, but I found it a great way to process my thoughts and feelings while encouraging my inner editor to take a break. Sometimes, I was surprised at what ended up on the paper.

These are only a handful of the ways we can process where we're at in our particular season of life.

I made a number of false starts to this post because I'm currently processing my way through imminent changes and those that I anticipate will occur within the next year or so. How much should I share? Would I just be filling the page? Would it actually benefit readers? 

I decided to save those rambling thoughts for my personal journal. 

You may find it helpful to work through the challenges you're facing in the same way. And those thoughts just may motivate you to share with others who are facing the same challenges.

Steph Beth Nickel is the former Editor of FellowScript and the current InScribe Contest Coordinator. Steph is an editor and author and plans to relocate to Saskatchewan from Ontario to be close to family in 2026. (Headshot Photo Credit: Jaime Mellor Photography)

Church at the Park during the Summer Season by Sandra Rafuse

I love the four seasons that we get to experience here in Saskatchewan every year. Each one is so different from the others. They arrive within days of their scheduled time, they stay for their allotted days, and then they leave...sometimes stealthily...sometimes swiftly, and meanwhile we get to experience the arrival of  the next season. The people in our church get to have a change of environment every time summer arrives. We start driving to our local regional park to attend church services starting on the long weekend in May and ending on the long weekend in September, so long as the weather remains good until then. We've done this for years and it's what we're doing right now. 

We all look forward to the change from using the town hall in a tiny hamlet; a very nice hall indeed with a kitchen, two bathrooms, and a large adjoining room for storage of the folding tables and chairs...to using a bare-bones rectangular building with a few plug-ins, three fairly new windows, a back door, and a wide sliding door that opens at the front to allow people to go in and out. Inside there are no ceiling tiles so you can see the rafters holding up the roof. The stacking wooden chairs and a couple of tables are stored in the C Can (a shipping container) outside, along with all the paraphernalia needed for potlucks.

Speaking of potlucks...they take place after the service almost every Sunday of the year. Since we all come from different locations and we all drive different distances, it makes a lot of sense to bring a dish of food to share with each other while we visit and enjoy a home cooked meal. 

This season at the park reminds us of what we sometimes forget. We're a good church family. We're made up of a collection of many kinds of people, especially, in this area, farmers and ranchers. Just like other church families, we help each other whenever help is needed. We share our good news and our bad news and we rally around those who need prayer. And we're a close church family. We are all friends. We might not all be best friends but we are brothers and sisters in Christ and that keeps us together. 

Something wonderful happened today at the annual men's retreat and trail ride out at Mitchell's Meadow. Even though this did not happen at the park, it was an important day in this season. Several of our men church members were in attendance there. It happened that the thirteen year old son of one of the organizers had requested to be baptized at the church service. When the time came, we walked out to a grass covered field and spread out in a large circle around the big black stock waterer that was sitting there. The pastor spoke to the boy about what the act of baptism involved, and the boy's mom and dad each spoke words of love and encouragement to their son before he was baptized. A short time later, he was walking around his circle of friends with a huge smile on his face, hugging those he felt closest to. Several minutes later we were back in our chairs, and having taken communion, we were ready for the service to end. Just then a young man asked if he could say a few words. He was a new Christian and had been so moved by the baptism he had just witnessed, and so touched by the words he had just heard, that after he spoke, he asked if he could be baptized right there and then. Immediately some of the men went up to hug him...to hold him close...most with tears in their eyes. Then we all walked back to where the stock waterer was still sitting and witnessed the second baptism of the day!

 

Sandra Rafuse lives in the small town of Rockglen, Saskatchewan with her husband Bob, a Gordon Setter named Sadie, an elderly and much loved cat named Kitty, and a Peregrine falcon named Peet. She is a retired teacher and an amateur writer and is enjoying having the opportunity to share what God has been teaching her through her life experiences.                                                                                                                                                                          

P.S. Mitchell's Meadow is a meadow in land owned by one of our church families. The young man who got baptized is one of our former students.               

 

Seasons of Purpose by Bob Jones

The prompt for August is: Write about a season you are currently experiencing or have experienced. How did it affect your writing life?

Depending on where you live, the seasons in Canada will be shorter or longer, harsh or gentle or unique to the area’s character. In Edmonton we have two seasons: winter and construction. I imagined that was a westerner’s sense of humour until our family of four moved to Edmonton thirty-five years ago. That’s how I now describe our seasons. In eighteen months from now, Alberta will be the place I have lived more than half my life. I feel like an Albertan. Growing up in Ontario, I never paid my province of birth any mind. I was Canadian. Still am. Forever Canadian.

Politics and Hockey 

Alberta is an interesting place to live and write about. It feels like we are either under construction by the latest government misplay, or we are in winter in June, cheering on McDavid and the Oilers and feeling sorry for the Flames. I would write about politics, or politicians but everyone takes their politics very seriously in Alberta, almost as seriously as they take their hockey.

Edmonton bleeds copper and blue or orange. And there was a lot of blood the last two years in the Stanley Cup finals. 

Ukraine

At this time in my writing life, all things Ukraine are in season. 

 

It’s embarrassing to admit that I thought the war with Russia started on February 24, 2022. Sadly, this was the beginning of my education in Ukrainian history. The Russian invasion of Crimea and the eastern regions of the country in 2014 was the start of the war. How was I oblivious to that for eight years? I know Ukrainians. I pastored Ukrainians. I was invited to go to Ukraine on missions trips numerous times. None of that clicked with me. I must have been focused on Alberta politics and hockey. 

 

Now, three humanitarian trips to Ukraine in 18 months doesn’t feel enough.

Jocelyn came with me on a seven-week trip in June and July. The trip coincided with Russia’s change of tactics. June set the record for drone attacks and July exceeded it. There is no safe place in Ukraine. 

 

People were impressed that Jocelyn was eager to deliver food further towards Russia than any Canadian woman since 2022. And she did it with a smile. Our friends assured us that just being with people in the war was 90% of the benefit of us going. “People send their prayers and promises to come after the war but having someone leave a peaceful country in the summer and come to us is a priceless gift. Thank you.” The pleasure and privilege were all ours. It hardly seems enough.

Purposeful Writing 

I recently sat with a political science professor from one of our Canadian Universities. He’s a bit younger than me. His heritage is Czech where two generations of his family suffered as anti-communists. He resonates with what Ukraine is going through. We talked about how, at our ages, using our skill and experience to draw attention to the injustices against Ukraine is highly purposeful. Ukrainians are engaged in the largest and most deadly war in Europe in 80 years. 

 

There has never been a more needed moment in my lifetime for advocacy than now. I am Canadian. Canadians stand up and fight together for the freedom of others.

 

I am in a season of writing about children, churches, the trauma of war, Canadian generosity, and faith in Ukraine.

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