What We Behold by Susan Barclay

 

I won’t date myself by saying what year this took place, but when I was in university I wrote a paper that speaks to this month’s theme of setting. I entitled it, A Man Would Have to Act as the Land Where He Was Born Had Trained Him to Act, a line from William Faulkner’s Light in August.

Here’s part of my first paragraph from that essay: 

The voice of the community affects everyone. There is no question but that being raised in one region rather than another can have the most far-reaching effects on one’s life and the events of one’s life. No setting is solely physical; each place has associations with certain values and norms; each location dictates patterns of behaviour which are acceptable for its particular community. Social influence is inextricably interwoven with the creation of the adult person. Individuals learn how to act through their experiences with other members of the group. To survive, the person must internalize the values of the group, and become capable of interacting in a persistent and acceptable manner within it.

I recently started reading Eugene Peterson’s authorized biography, A Burning in My Bones. Chapter One describes how Eugene’s maternal grandparents emigrated from Norway to the U.S. and settled in Montana. Author WinnCollier writes,

When Andre and Juditta Hoiland first cast their eyes on the vast and magnificent Flathead Valley...they couldn’t have imagined how this place would shape the generations to follow, how this ground would form their grandson Eugene.

He says,

This Montana landscape—the place Eugene loved, wandered in, and marveled at his entire life—fashioned him as surely as meltwater carved the basin between the mountains. The breathtaking beauty, immense solitude, and sheer physicality of the valley forged in Eugene a visceral sense of place. An earthiness, to use a word that would become one of his favorites.

He traversed deep into his surroundings, spending long days exploring… The splendid grandeur of this feral country, with all the wonder and holiness it evoked, nurtured a spiritual imagination in him that was every bit as formative as what he found in his childhood Pentecostal church. Maybe more...

Late in his life, as I sat to hear Eugene describe how much time he spent wandering alone under that expansive sky, it became clear how the land’s stark, solitary beauty shaped him, grounding in him a rich silence of soul…

Throughout his writings, Eugene belligerently resisted the common modern habit of severing earth from heaven, splitting the physical world from the spiritual. These convictions would come to be grounded in deep theology but were first felt as a boy as he feasted on the infinite Montana sky, inhaled the scent of aspen and Engelmann spruce, and drank crisp water from rushing streams. Montana was Eugene’s birthplace. And it became his catechism.

This Eugene Peterson is the man who gave us The Message Bible translation. The influence of his early environment is clear: the setting of our lives, the landscape around us (broad or narrow), finds its place in our writing.

So what is, or was, my setting? I was raised in the grand metropolis of Toronto in a predominantly Caucasian neighbourhood with swaths of Jewish and Greek subcommunities. My nearest playmates were the Armenian/Greek brothers across the street and a Catholic girl several doors down. In our era of childhood, we had the freedom to run the streets after school, playing until dusk when the streetlights came on. My mom was separated from my father when I was an infant, and my grandparents lived with us to offer physical support. Our home was a Christian one, and I was at church regularly for Sunday morning and evening services and midweek events for my age group. My mom believed in the power of a good education and I was encouraged to devote myself to my studies, to excel in school and pursue postgraduate degrees. From the time I was three, I was a regular library visitor, and by the time I was fourteen, I had a part-time library job, eventually becoming a librarian. Like every child, I was shaped by my setting (physical, social, familial, spiritual). And who I am as a result of my setting comes out in the subjects and themes I write about, the style in which I write, and the writers with whom I identify and by whom I’m inspired.

British poet, painter, and printmaker, William Blake, believed we become what we behold. Let us therefore fix our eyes on Jesus, that we may be like him. The Scriptures shaped Jesus and informed his thinking. "There wasn’t a single thing that entered Jesus’ mind that was not subject to the overarching story that the Bible tells about God and his purpose for creation" (from Prepared to Answer). Like Jesus, may we also be in the Word. May we find our place in God’s grand story, experience his purpose for our lives, and tell the tale that is ours alone to share.

________________________

c. Susan Barclay, 2025. For more about Susan and her writing, please visit www.susan-barclay.blogspot.com

How to Strengthen Writing of Place by Sandi Somers

 

Calgary 2013

When I was taking a writing course in 2013, Calgary was in the midst of one of its greatest floods. I wrote an essay about driving to my favourite spots to see the floods along the Bow River and how riverside homes had been inundated.  

One American in the course was flabbergasted. "How can you drive around in floods?" she asked. "That's impossible!" 

I thought she was comparing my story to flood-ravished coastal cities from hurricanes, like New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina in 2005. 

I knew what I had done--or rather, hadn't done. 

I hadn’t made the place come alive. It was easy to skip over details because I was so familiar with our city, but I needed to envision a reader who’s never been to Calgary. I needed to convey the quality of “you are there” right with me, seeing what I’m seeing, hearing what I’m hearing, feeling the atmosphere. 

In other words, I needed to engage the senses. I needed to include how much of Calgary is hilly, with different levels carved out from ancient glaciers. I needed to write how, overlooking the Bow River below from one of the highest parts of Calgary, I sensed the eerie silence. No vehicles moved along the normally busy highway below, closed due to flooding. Nor did trains run alongside the river. And the air smelled, not the refreshing petrichor after rain, but the overpowering sense of wetness. The atmosphere of the city was tense. 

* * * 

I grew up in rural Alberta, in the area I affectionately call “Between the Rockies and the Prairie”, and while I live in Calgary, my rural roots are deeply ingrained. Writing in this context, I explored in depth of my life and our family history, and the people who made up this area ranching and farming communities. I delved into how Calgary evolved from the label of “Cowtown” to a modern city that celebrates our ranching and agricultural background through the Stampede. I detailed how the oil boom beginning in 1947 has led to our provincial prosperity and an entrepreneurial spirit.  

Through writing about my roots, I realize just how much place is part of our identity.   

* * * 

My life has taken me to many destinations. While on a trip to Europe and the British Isles, I mingled with different ethnic groups, different cultures, different customs. So often I was reminded of what the Apostle Paul wrote in Acts 17:26 (ESV), that God has chosen each person to live in a designated place and in a particular time. This has influenced how I engaged with life outside my usual spheres. 

At one point, God opened an opportunity to teach missionary children in Colombia. It was a real-life immersion. While there, one aim was to write letters home filled with the uniqueness of Colombia and how it vibrated with life. I wanted to be the eyes and ears of the land, the culture, and people. 

Little did I know then that living in South America and other travels would provide a valuable linkage to many peoples and cultures I would later encounter while teaching ESL in Calgary. I discovered how their countries of origin influences so much of their lives. It became easy to spot such indicators such as dress, food, and music. But as time went on, I learned how family and clan values, religion, and world views shaped their identity, and how immigration impacted their new sense of self. 

In turn, these immigrants and refugees changed my own perspectives. In doing so, I’ve written personal essays, transforming my exotic world for Canadians. It’s important for me to communicate understanding and appreciation for the many cultures we brush shoulders with in our increasingly multicultural country. 

                                                     * * * 

As I write of how my life has intertwined with many places and peoples, I’m reminded of my own place of writing. I sit at my table, laptop facing the windows, praying for the Lord’s guidance to write what He is speaking into and through me. I reflect Lorrie’s prompt: “Not only did God give us the gift of writing, but he also gave each of us different life experiences, perspectives, and insights. … By seeking to follow God’s wisdom in how we write, we glorify God as Christian…writers.”

Marching in Snow by Brenda J Wood

He brought me out into a spacious place;

he rescued me because he delighted in me.

Psalm 18:19 (NIV)

I dare say that reading this verse brings to mind well-trodden paths, strewn with flowers and grassy mounds to rest upon at leisure. For the last several days, my area of Ontario is blanketed, no, smothered in snow. I can’t get out my front door. Plows are pulled off the roads. There are accidents where foolish drivers are determined to ignore warnings.

That is not me. I hunker down at the slightest tremor of trouble. I cower in safe havens while others trod six-foot deep paths.

And I wonder, does this affect my writing? Have I always taken the safe trails to avoid controversy? And if that is so, why is that? When I was six, my mom sent me to the school Halloween party dressed as a princess. She wrapped her engagement ring with string, put it on my finger accompanied with multiple warnings not to lose it. Thus, I stood at the corner of the school, refusing to join games or races…for fear of losing that ring. I wore the ring, but you might say that the ring wore me.

That’s what happens when we write safely. Even on Facebook, I find myself withdrawing if someone criticizes the content. When this happens, I look for something to say that will not offend. But is this possible? NO! Because there is always someone who won’t agree with you, not because you are right or wrong, but because they don’t like your words.

So, what then, do we write? Do we stay safely inside the house, dreading the snow, writing the same old stuff, or do we dare to step into the fresh air and tramp through unknown verse, mystery, perhaps science fiction?

I am still snowed in, but today I wrote this liberating piece to remind all of us to March in the snow. How will you march? In tennis shoes with little protection? Snow boots that reach only the ankles? Ski boots of over protection? I don’t know what is best for you. We do need to protect ourselves from the elements, but sometimes we have to dive in head first, forgetting our feet and their safety, but instead finding the truth of our heart, believing it and writing it no matter what might come of it.

Winter Image by Mariakray from Pixabay

Brenda J. Wood has authored more than fifty books. She is a seasoned motivational speaker, who declares the Word of God with wisdom, humour, and common sense.

Place Matters by Lorrie Orr

 

In this month's prompt we are invited to write about the setting of our writing. 

We all exist in time and place. I invite you to share how the setting of your life, the landscape around you, broad or narrow, finds its place in your writing? How does setting affect you? For some writers, the setting becomes as powerful as a character in the story. Alternatively, write a paragraph or two describing yourself or another character in a particular setting.

The relentless sun beats down, but it is the intense humidity that leaves me limp and drained of energy. I know a storm is brewing. Just when the heat becomes unbearable, I hear the rain coming like a rush of wind across the dense jungle. Within seconds it's as if the sluice gates of heaven have opened. Water drums on the roof of the house. It bounces in the puddles soon formed by the unrelenting downpour. The deafening sound carries on throughout the night. We sleep, oh, so soundly, hearing nothing but the steady deluge outside. By morning the storm moves on, the air is fresh and sweet, and we awaken with renewed motivation for the day ahead.

After moving to Canada in the early 2000s, I first heard the song He Reigns by The Newsboys. There is a line about the volume of believers singing that had me thinking about how loud that noise must be to be heard over rain in the Amazon. And I wondered how anyone who had not experienced the overwhelming din of a jungle rain could even grasp the intensity of it. It's a great line. Having experienced many Amazon rainstorms, I have perhaps a tiny bit more understanding than someone who has never lived anywhere but Victoria where the rain is much more gentle.

In many works of literature, the place, or setting, becomes a character. The Shire in J. R. R. Tolkien's works set in Middle-Earth represents an idyllic and comforting place of security. Who of us would not love to curl up in an easy chair in a Hobbit hole with a cup of tea and a friend to visit with?

Late Nights on Air by Elizabeth Hay is set in Yellowknife, in the far north of Canada. When I read the book the landscape became as vivid as a character. I loved the descriptions of the vastness, the wildlife, the effect of a sun that never set. Hays knew the landscape and was able to convey the beauty and isolation of the North in a way that made it real to me although I had never seen it myself. L. M. Montgomery's heroes Anne and Emily (among others) live on Prince Edward Island. Reading her books over and over again, I learned of the red soil and the gentle curves of the landscape, so much so that when I did finally visit PEI, those things were familiar to me.

Images and metaphors of place abound in Scripture. Psalm 23 speaks of our Shepherd Lord making us lie down in green pastures, leading us beside quiet waters, and guiding us in paths of righteousness. The author could have said, "Relax. God will take of you and guide you." Instead, the imagery of a peaceful place guarded by a caring shepherd enhanced by specific details elicits emotions of trust.

Place. It matters. And as writers, it matters that we get our facts straight. I once read a story that included the lovely sweet fragrance of the colourful bougainvillea vines that drape over rooftops and fenLoces in lands more southerly than Canada. "Hmmm," I thought, "I don't remember bougainvillea having much of a scent." So I looked it up. I was correct. Pollinators are attracted by the bright colours that lack any scent. That small incorrect detail made me question other descriptors the author used.

To write about place we must engage all the senses of our readers so that they can picture in their minds the setting of our stories. God has placed each one of us in specific settings that we experience in unique ways. Psalm 18:19 says, "He brought me out into a spacious place," - a metaphor for a life of freedom. I am so thankful for this place and want to convey that sense of freedom in Christ that can exist in any physical setting that I write.

Lorrie Orr writes from Vancouver Island where winter is giving way to spring.