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.

Thank you for reading. There is more at REVwords.com

The Season for Gathering Memories by Brenda Leyland

Everything has seasons, and we have to

be able to recognize when something's time has

passed and be able to move into the next season.

Henry Cloud

found on BrainyQuote.com

Little did I realize that I had been waiting for the season when I'd turn 60. Having reached this stage (successfully finishing 60 trips around the sun), I had some inner sense of having 'made it'. I'd come safely and reasonably happy through my childhood, young adulthood, and now middle age—and all that went with these various stages of life. It had been—and still is—a good life.

At the outset of this new decade, there were lots of things I didn't have to do anymore. By this time, I'd now lived the major portion of my life. I was no longer setting down roots for my future or laying foundational blocks, learning how to live the life God had given me or trying to carve out a lifestyle based on my situation, passions, and needs. But as a bit of a late bloomer—not having married until I was forty-one and never having dreamed of being a writer until I was older—I was well into my forties when I attended my first InScribe event around 2002. As the desire to write grew, I knew I wanted to write about life from my corner of the world, using my own life experiences as fodder. Somehow I came to recognize that I had had to live my longish life before I could write about it. I needed time and distance to see how God’s faithfulness, loving guidance, and grace had umbrella-ed everything that had ever happened to me. When I approached 60, it signaled something on the inside that this was the time the writer in me had been waiting for, and the season would start with a lot of rearview mirror gazing and gathering in the memories. 

I began curating my personal history, organizing the motley collection of photo albums, journals, yearbooks, scrapbooks, and multitudinous touchstone keepsakes. It was the season of gathering the fruit—stories, experiences, lessons—of my life. And putting some order to it. Based on the advice from Natalie Goldberg, or was it Julia Cameron, I created ten-year increments of 'Just the Facts' timelines, of my life from birth to present day. From there, I took the barebone facts and began creating a more detailed narrative timeline. A lifetime in a timeline. I felt so organized and orderly (smile). 

It was a such a satisfying season. Some things got wrapped up, some got sorted. Other situations remained shrouded in mystery and no answers to the whys of life but it was okay to let it be. Some things were dusted off as I paid close attention to which memories shimmered and begged to be told. Quite often bits and pieces of this material worked its way into essays for blog posts and anthologies. I self-published a magazine through Blurb that housed my simple but cherished childhood Christmas memories. Which made lovely Christmas presents one year and I was amazed at how much interest it garnered in sales from strangers.

From the start, I wanted to write about my lost dream to marry and become a mom early in life. My twenties disappeared as did my thirties; I was still single and earning my own way in an unchosen but good career for years. It wasn't the plan at all. It would be years before I'd meet my partner. I even thought about a working title for this memoir "Between a Prayer and a Proposal: Twenty Years of Waiting... and Living". I never realized until I started looking back that I'd been composing possible chapters in my head for years, ever rehearsing those touchstone experiences till they were etched in my heart of how I had learned to let go of my expectations and invite God to show me how to create his beautiful life for me. I had lived the story for years; the time had come to get it down on paper. I took a memoir writing course with Lisa Dale Norton and loved her book Shimmering Images on the topic. The first draft got done, but I never quite got up the courage, and energy, to push through and finish it. It's still a work in progress.

Turning another corner

That was several years ago now. The gathering season ended. The pressing need to collect those memories and record them was over. I just came across a line I'd jotted in my journal in 2023 which summed up my feelings at this time: "I don't want to keep living my old memories - I want to make new ones." My soul was longing to once again start looking forward and make some new memories. Some people use their retirement years to travel. I have traveled some, and I enjoy going away on holidays. Truth is, I'm really a homebody, where I'm happy in the heart of my home, near my writing desk, computer, and windows overlooking the garden. Where I can read books stacked up on shelves. And spend time with family and friends. Stay in wonderment and curiosity as I wander, wait, listen, pray.

I still want to share my life through writing... whether it's on my blog (my favourite place to write for these past 17 years), curating some of my favourite essays into small book collections, or finishing a memoir or two. I have known God's faithfulness and great grace through every stage of my life, including my writing life. Now as I edge toward my 'elder' years, a line from a song* Sandi Somers mentioned in her latest post seems such a lovely reminder: "In ev'ry change He faithful will remain". Amen.

_______________________________

Top Photo credit: Image by CongerDesign from Pixabay
*Be Still My Soul

Brenda is living her beautiful life in slower mode, having time to watch the world go by, sit in her comfy spot by the bay window, read, walk, watch the birds and clouds and flowers grow. And she enjoys writing on her blog It's A Beautiful Life and here on InScribe. She can also be found on Facebook, Instagram, and BlueSky.

 

 

Reduction by Susan Barclay

 

Image by CongerDesign@Pixabay

                                                        

 

REDUCTION

 

In this season of caregiving

I am being reduced

Cooked, simmered, evaporated

A concentrated version of myself

 

Who am I now?

I am daughter

I am mother

I am wife

 

Who am I?

What is this new flavour?

This new texture?

This new consistency?

 

I seek more of Him and less of me

Holy Spirit, come

I am jellied and trembling

When I am weak, I am strong

 

Give me this day love, joy, peace

Patience, kindness, goodness

Faithfulness, gentleness, self-control

Teach me Your ways

 

Make me lie down in green pastures

Lead me beside quiet waters

Restore my soul

Fill me with Your sacred rest

 

In this pressure cooker, sautéed

I become saltier for Christ

Taste and see that the Lord is good

His mercies are new every morning

 

This is my desire

To spend time in God’s stock pot

Take up less volume in the world

And enhance its flavour

 

Father, You are the Master Chef

The 3-star Michelin

Make of me what You will

I am Your creation

_______________________________

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