An Unexpected Kindness by Sandi Somers

It came as a surprise. Last fall I told my next-door neighbour that it was time to get a snow blower--it was getting too hard for me to shovel off my driveway after heavy snowstorms. Shortly afterwards, Don sent emails with links to sales items on both a snow blower and a heavy duty electric cord.

After I purchased both the snow blower and cord, he helped me assemble and test it. Then when we got a heavy snowstorm, he walked over to see how my blower was working and even volunteered to finish clearing my driveway. His eagerness to help must have given him an emotional boost. It gave me a lift too.

While I was drafting this post, (co-incidentally handwriting with my pen inscribed with “Be kind”), I discovered a relevant article on small acts of kindness. In her book, Conversations with Kindness, British author Bernadette Russell tells how her life changed when at the post office she gave money to a young man who couldn't pay for a stamp. “It made me think about how maybe some people are more likely to receive kindness than others and how one way to respond to unkindness is with kindness.” This began a daily practice for a year--leaving a bookmark with a kind message inside a book in a thrift shop, showing tourists the way to a train platform, helping an elderly man struggle with his bags.

She was surprised to discover how much she noticed other people being kind. There was another side-effect, too: “I started becoming aware of how often I received kindness – which was often.” She believes that people who are treated with love, kindness, forgiveness and compassion can change. “I think [kindness] has truly radical, world-changing and life-changing power,” she said.

Her story points out that we often feel uplifted when we do small things for other people. Why is that?

Research has shown that our brain releases dopamine, giving us a warm feeling of euphoria when we do something kind for others. But the good feeling doesn't last. To be most effective, acts of kindness need to be repeated frequently, as Bernadette Russell discovered.

~ ~

Perhaps this is why as writers, we sometimes feel euphoric when we write what is inspiring.

When we know that our words will go out to others.

When we know that our words ring true for the benefit of others.

Even when we don’t know where our words will land, or with whom.

As I write this post, I’ve been greatly challenged to add more small acts of kindness to my life. It’s also caused me to think of more ways to incorporate kindnesses into my writing.

I’m reminded of what the apostle Paul says in Ephesians 2:10: "We are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works." Showing kindness is part of those good works. It reflects the reality of how Christ is in us.

Let's make kindness a habit, both in our daily lives and in our writing. If we do, we’ll not only get that endorphin lift, but we’ll also be doing a small part of what God intends for us.

Sandi Somers has been writing for the InScribe Writers Online blog for over eleven years. The wide range of topics has been a boon to her writing. She lives in Calgary, Alberta.






Donna Ferguson, "Rewind and be Kind: What happens if you do one act of kindness every day?" Accessed March 30, 2025.

Wouldn't It Be Nice? by Brenda J Wood

We are in the recovery process after the brutal ice storm that hit Southern Ontario. No power exists. Trees are decimated. Cars are growing branches out of their roofs. Some houses have serious damage from falling limbs.

But never fear.

Help arrives with one neighbour checking around my property to say the house itself had no damage. And then stopped in to check on me. Those of us with fireplaces invited neighbours less fortunate to share our warmth. One person found a distant restaurant open and brought us all a coffee. We opened our defrosting fridges to share any cooked food. We found people cheered one another up. One gal travelled the treacherous road roads to bring me more yarn for the afghans I make for the hospital's chemotherapy patients.

Wouldn’t it be nice if all these things actually happened? Wouldn’t it be nice? Some of them did but some of them did not. Why? Because most of us don’t bother with the little things. We think they don’t matter. And yet what a difference each tiny step makes toward kindness.

I leave you to guess which small steps happened. This article is past due. Will I be able to send it on time? Only the power company knows for sure. Wouldn’t it be nice if they told us? Yes, a week later some people still have no power and no refrigeration and no safety. It’s only the little things. A little thing to do. And there’s no trouble. And the little things smooth people’s road the most.

_____________

PS. We live in limbo here still . . . We are all jaded and I expect depressed. And today they call for more freezing rain. Pray for us please, not just me but people who are in worse shape than me, we are in a disaster area.

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.

Small Kindnesses by Lorrie Orr

 

"I have found that it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love." J. R. R. Tolkien

This month's prompt: What small deeds of kindness have you witnessed or experienced? How did they make you feel? In a world that is often unkind, small kindnesses can mean much. Write about a kindness you have been shown or have shown to someone else.

In 2009 my husband unexpectedly lost his job in a rather brutal fashion. After 10 months he found another, and we were thankful, though still hurting. His new job meant moving a couple of hours away. We struggled to fit into our new, smaller community. Finding a church home was difficult. I began attending a woman's Bible study, and we tried to find a small group knowing that we ourselves needed to reach out if we were to find community. People were neither welcoming nor kind. Our hearts ached for what we had lost and were now unable to find. As the months wore on, and I ached for warmth and connection, walls of cold stone piled around my heart.  

One evening, while strolling through our neighbourhood, we met a realtor setting up an open house. In chatting, we discovered that he had attended the same church for awhile and found the same lack of connection. He invited us to another church, one that we would have never before considered. 

That Sunday the pastor opened her sermon with "God is the kindest person you will ever meet." Tears rained down my face at her words. They were balm to my hard and wounded heart. I felt the cold stone of my heart softening. The simple truth of God's kindness was shown in fellow congregants inviting us to share coffee or a meal. Slowly the ice around my heart melted as I considered God's kindness demonstrated by this small group of kind people. 

I am thankful that God shows kindness to me despite my many faults. In Ephesians 4:32 (ESV) we are urged to "be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you." God's kindness is shown in myriad ways. Forgiveness certainly. When I hurt he lavishes his love on me and calls me his child; when I doubt he walks with me through the questions, never pausing his kindness. When I mourn he comforts me with his presence. Because of God's kindness to me, I am filled with his Spirit that helps me to show kindness to others. 

Have you ever noticed how being kind to someone who might be belligerent or angry can catch them off guard? Showing kindness rather than retaliation often diffuses a situation, enabling a reasonable discourse to take place. Kindness softens and tenders hard hearts. 

Kindness is not a small thing. Being kind can require much grace and God's strength. Proverbs 21:21 tells us that being kind benefits not only the receiver, but the giver: "Whoever pursues righteousness and kindness will find life, righteousness, and honor." Kindness stands out as a shining beacon in a world that is judgmental, polarizing, and harsh. 

Lorrie Orr writes from Vancouver Island where Spring has suddenly sprung, displaying the kindness and goodness of God in nature. 

 

When you'd rather be back in the good ol days! - by Mary Folkerts

 

The first sign that you might be getting older is if you start reminiscing about the good ol days, when life seemed more straightforward and wholesome. It feels like it's one way we process today’s difficulties and mourn days we can never retrieve. The problem is that we stack today’s problems against a glorified view of the past. Somehow, our memory selector often forgets that “in the day” we struggled too, perhaps with different things, but still hard things.

Don’t get me wrong; I think there are many things society would do well to remember and incorporate back into life today.

I think it’s time to get back to the good ol days,
to stop running after the newest,
latest and strangest.

Let’s get back to family supper
around the table,
Sunday morning church
and bedtime prayers.

Not everything our parents taught us must be
deconstructed, dismantled, and rejected.
Let’s get back to family values.
Let’s teach our kids
that lying’s still wrong,
that absolutes exist,
winning is fun,
but sometimes you lose.

Let’s prepare our children that life is hard–
you must work for what you have.
Let’s not give them everything they want
so they can be grateful
for what they’ve got.

Let’s teach them that an
entitled attitude will
never be attractive
teach the fulfillment of hard work
and the pleasure of
a good book.

Help them see joy in
the smallest things,
to be where their feet are,
to not wish to be older.

Not everything of the past
is contemptible, outdated,
and useless.
Old fashions consistently cycle back;
maybe it’s time for values,
critical thinking, and
the wisdom of our
forefathers to be revisited.
To make it fashionable to be brave
to stand alone against the crowd
if need be.

We can do our part in encouraging our children, grandchildren and readers alike of the value of many things from the past, and still not be stuck in a morose attitude of all things current. Even the Bible has something to say about how we should view our present situation: “Do not say, 'Why were the old days better than these?’ For it is not wise to ask such questions” (Ecclesiastes 7:10 NIV).

What’s the point of living in the “glory days” of the past when every decade has its beauty and hardship? God has put us here in time and space to glorify him and be a light to this generation. We can pass down solid, foundational truths learned from those before us and still live fully and joyfully in the present.

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 Proverbs 31 ministries COMPEL Writers Training member 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/

BOOK DAY: Pond'rings, a writer's memoir by Marcia Lee Laycock

We are pleased to introduce (actually re-introduce) a monthly segment called BOOK DAY here on InScribe Writers Online.

It's where we highlight books that InScribe members have read and recommend—based on our blog themes of Faith and Writing. Which we hope will include some of the lovely books penned and published by our own InScribe members (you can view the titles on our website HERE).

Have you read any good books lately? Do you have any titles you'd like to recommend to our readers? You are welcome to submit a short review to Brenda Leyland to be included in our monthly roster.

Today we are pleased to highlight Marcia Laycock's newest book, Pond'rings, a writer's memoir.

_________________________________________

TITLE: Pond'rings, a writer's memoir

AUTHOR: Marcia Lee Laycock

PUBLISHER: Siretona Creative, 2024

WHERE TO PURCHASE:

Siretona Online Bookstore ($20.00 CAN)

Amazon ($20.00 Paperback + $9.99 Kindle)

In her latest book, Pond'rings, a writer's memoir, Marcia Laycock looks back on her writing career that has spanned three decades. She gives her readers a peek into the 'twists and turns, mileposts and detours' which include many lightbulb moments that have enlightened her path. Gathering her many memories from a life well experienced—from the time she wrote stories for her dolls to when she first felt the call to write for God's kingdom to the present day—Marcia delightfully engages readers as she shares about being a writer of faith.

It's good for us as writers to hear stories from other authors, especially those we know personally and rub shoulders with. To realize that we all face our own "Big Old Hairy Ogres" (as Marcia dubbed the grim negative voices that plagued her life). Sometimes the wisdom we glean from another's life experience turns out to be exactly what resonates for our own life. I've enjoyed sitting in Marcia's presence as I disappeared into her book. Where she courageously and candidly opens her heart and tells her tales of resilience, discipline, and sometimes-faltering but ever growing trust in a Father who loves her. And Who has faithfully led her from writing opportunity to writing opportunity to writing opportunity. His benevolent involvement is evident as she writes.

Marcia tells, from early on, how she'd often hear the voice of the Ogre mocking her with 'your words don't matter, no one will ever care about them, they're just going to fade away.' But when she began to hear another Voice, she came to realize her words were, rather, a legacy and a testimony to God's grace and mercy. She often mentions paying heed to the words of fellow writers who encouraged her and shares a few of these with us. For instance, Marcia was deeply touched by words heard in an interview done with Carrie Fountain, an American poet. The words are now starred and underlined in my copy of the book because they resonated with me. Simple steps. Beautiful instructions. 

"Just get started.

Each morning, make a little progress.

Send out a little prayer.

Take note of something.

Try to be facing in the direction of the surprise."

Carrie Fountain

If you need encouragement in your own writing journey or maybe a few anecdotes to brighten your path, or you just want to rejoice in the grace of God in Marcia's life, this book is well worth your time. I agree with Canadian author Phil Callaway when he said, 'What my friend Marcia writes, I read'. Over the years I have come to appreciate Marcia's work as a writer, knowing that what she shares has been skillfully, prayerfully, and creatively crafted to touch hearts for the Kingdom.

Review by Brenda Leyland

Marcia is an award-winning author of fiction, devotionals, children's stories and fantasies, and more. Her writing and speaking journey continues. You can find her online at:

Website: www.marcialeelaycock.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/marcialeelaycock
Substack: https://marcialeelaycock.substack.com

Don't Give Up — Your Writing Has A Place by Sally Meadows

If you're a writer or an aspiring writer, never, ever give up. You have an important story to tell, maybe many. It may take months or years for your writing to find its place, but I want to encourage you to keep on keeping on. 

With my husband cheering me on, I left the workforce in January 2013 to pursue being a writer and musician full time. Over the past dozen years, I have had a number of successes, but there have also been many personal, relational, and financial challenges that have negatively impacted my writing journey. There have been times when life circumstances stole my desire and ability to write. There were times when I experienced rejection. There were times when life circumstances dictated other priorities. But I kept on keeping on.

I was thrilled early on in my journey to have my story “Love, Shania and the Whispered Wish” published by Chicken Soup for the Soul (CSS) in its Canadian bestselling version Christmas in Canada. That was in 2014.

In those first few years, two more of my pieces were shortlisted but didn’t get into the final publications. Since then, it became a personal writing goal to replicate my feat of getting published in CSS. Over this past decade, I have continued to occasionally submit stories to CSS, but to no avail. It felt like I would never be published in CSS again.

For over a year after the death of my husband, I had no desire to write. But in 2024, I found a way to segue back into the writing world. I made writing a priority and soon the writing started to flow. As difficult as it was to see my career fall by the wayside for the prior six years, it has been the source of many compelling stories.

One of those stories, called “Single Dog-Parenting,” caught the eye of CSS. I am thrilled to announce that my story has been included in the latest Chicken Soup for the Soul publication What I Learned from My Dog, releasing in stores April 1, 2025.

I recently read that CSS receives 4000-5000 submissions for each of its titles. It is a real honour that out of those many aspiring and experienced authors, my story was hand-selected as part of this 101-story anthology.

It’s sad it took such a devastating time in my life to come up with a story that resonated with the editors, but I am thrilled to have finally reached my goal of getting published in CSS one more time, almost 11 years later. I find joy and hope in that accomplishment. And I hope and pray the same for those of you who have been through your own valley experiences.

Remember, never give up. Your stories are important.

Sally Meadows is an award-winning author of children’s books and short fictional stories; a four-time national award nominated singer/songwriter; and a non-fiction contributor to writing magazines and anthologies such as Freelance, FellowScript, Chicken Soup for the Soul, and the Hot Apple Cider series. She delights in sharing her work at author readings for kids and adults, as well as speaking at writing workshops and conferences. Sally was the recipient of InScribe’s Barnabas Award in 2019 and the Janette Oke Award in 2020. She is also a Certified Colour Consultant helping women find their best colours to look, feel, and be the best version of themselves as Ambassadors of Christ. Connect with Sally at https://sallymeadows.com, https://instagram.com/sallymeadowsstudios, and https://facebook.com/SallyMeadowsMusic.

The Adventure of Living in Two Settings at Once by Michelle Strutzenberger

If setting is where a story unfolds, then we as Christians have an awesome advantage. We get to exist in two settings at once. Even while we walk, wander, wash and whistle on this physical earth, we simultaneously live and move in another setting – the Kingdom of Christ.

It can be rather fun to think of our lives in this way.

As we meander down the slushy street on a grey afternoon, the stranger walking towards us could likely never guess we are also, in that moment, travelling through another world.

When we rub the sleep from our eyes in the morning, no matter what the hours ahead hold, we can anticipate adventure because of this simple fact – we straddle two realities.

Perhaps the most wonderful, life-giving, heart-filling part of it all is this: That while our time in the one setting will one day stop, it won’t in the other. Our existence in the Kingdom of Christ goes on forever.

As writers of faith, we can see ourselves as brokers between the two realms. We bring back stories, lyrics, poems, and lessons infused with Kingdom of Christ air to share in the stale, dead fog of a society that believes one sad setting is all they’ve got and all they’ll ever get.

It’s really quite exciting, this opportunity we have. May we continue to be energized and active in making the most of it, until our two-setting existence is up, and we continue our adventure with Christ throughout eternity.

Michelle and her family enjoy hiking mountains and trails together. She is currently writing a series called, What Growing Up in a Mennonite Family of 10 Taught Me About Survival. To receive the bi-weekly tips, visit this link and subscribe.

Image by 👀 Mabel Amber, who will one day from Pixabay

A Sense of Place ~ Valerie Ronald

There is a phrase echoing around in my mind, simpler to describe than to define ˗˗ a sense of place.

It is warm golden pine needles carpeting the ground, spicing the air with each cushioned footstep. It is shafts of sunlight dropping down through tree columns, alive with dancing dust and insects. It is the rhythmic sound of waves swelling and receding, growing louder as the shoreline comes into view. Once beyond the trees, it is drawing in big breaths of salt-rich air, then kicking off my shoes and burying my toes in the sand, more fully alive here by the sea than anywhere else.

By the sea is where I derive my deepest sense of place, a setting for joyful contemplation when all goes well and for comfort when solace is sought. Walking along its shores gazing at the layers of moving water, distant mountains, and wind-swept clouds, my soul finds nurture and peace. I don’t live near it anymore but in some tender corner of my heart the sea will always draw me. I was happiest there as a child and dream of living near it again someday.

“Place is where meaning, belonging, and safety come together under the covering of our best efforts at unconditional love,” writes author Randy Kilgore. “Place beckons us with memories buried deep in our souls. Even when our place isn’t perfect, its hold on us is dramatic, magnetic.”

Place, that idyllic memory evoked by emotions connected to it. For me it is more a person than a physical setting. Yes, my heart responds to some places more than others, where special memories have their roots or beauty stirs me. At some point those places may be changed or even destroyed, but the One who gives me the most secure, eternal sense of place will be forever present.

Jesus Christ said, “Abide in Me, and I will abide in you.” (John 15:4 NIV) What a strange concept that must have been to the disciples listening to Him. Abide? Live in? Take up residence in Jesus? When read in context of the metaphor of the vine and the branches in John 15, abiding in Jesus makes sense. He is our vine, our source of spiritual nourishment so we, the branch, can bear spiritual fruit. Important as spiritual fruit is, it is not the main reason for Jesus wanting us to abide in Him. His desire is for intimacy with His beloved child, a sense of connection only achieved by living as close to Him as possible. Abiding, remaining˗˗when our inner spirit, the truest essence of who we are, takes up residence in the heart of Jesus. It sounds a bit mystical. True spirituality is a mystery, but the practice of it is simple. Spend time with Jesus. Seek, long for, thirst after, engage, know, hear and respond to … Jesus. Find Him in His Word, talk to Him in prayer, listen for His voice in your spirit, live in Him.

Being by the ocean gives me a sense of place because of significant personal epiphanies I have experienced there. Yet I have learned that my truest sense of place happens in my spiritual abode, the heart of Jesus, a place of love. “As the Father has loved Me, so have I loved you. Now abide in My love.” (John 15:9)

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.

My Place to Be by Alan Anderson

 

“He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.” Psalm 18:19

 

The Dike

From time to time in my blog posts I mention the dike only a few minutes from where I live. The dike and the nature spread out before it is a powerful influence on my inspiration as a writer and its ability to calm my heart.

With the beautiful face of spring, the dike is even more alive. I love spring where I live. When I walk along the dike, a place of God’s delight, I sense the presence of God. His creativity as the Master Artist is unmistakable. His music is everywhere in the wind’s breeze, the songs of birds, and the gentle sounds of raindrops cascading off leaves of willow trees.

My Friends

The willows and other deciduous trees even now await spring to clothe them in the various shades of green, adding to the living portrait of nature around me. Did you know, if you walk close to willow trees, they just might give you a thrill? On the dike as one walks by the trees, the willows have often reached out and held the hand of passersby for a moment. A thrill to be remembered.

I realize the nearby mountains, birds, water bodies, grass, and even the gravel spread over the dike are friends. As friends of God, they hold my hand as I walk. They let me know I am not alone. My inspiration as a writer comes from the embrace of these friends. This is my place to be.

In this recognition of nature being a friend, the poet John O’ Donohue notes,

“This invitation to friendship with nature does of course entail a willingness to be alone out there. Yet this aloneness is anything but lonely. Solitude gradually clarifies the heart until a true tranquility is reached. The irony is that at the heart of that aloneness you feel intimately connected with the world. Indeed, the beauty of nature is often the wisest balm for it gently relieves and releases the caged mind.” (John O’Donohue, Excerpt from his books, Beauty: The Invisible Embrace (US) / Divine Beauty (Europe)

My Place to Be

My wife, Terry, and I, have lived close to the dike for twenty years. We never become tired of the scenic area around us. We have spent hours on the dike walking, talking, and just listening to the music of God’s creation. This is our place to be.

The dike is also my place to be. My place to soak in the inspiration to put words together. Walking the dike and allowing nature to embrace me helps me keep my inner inkwell full. This place to be lets me formulate how and what I want to write. This place where my friends live.

With spring comes more hugs from the warmth of the sun. The sky smiles as it sees me walking on the dike. Then an amazing wonder happens. Sunbeams break through morning clouds and kiss me on the top of my head. My place to be is full of such wonders.

My dear fellow writers and readers, I pray you are intimate with a place to be, a place you love.

Your Place to Be

May a place where God’s delight is fully alive embrace you.

May you know the thrill of a willow tree holding your hand.

May your friends express their love for you.

When you walk or rest in your place to be, may you know the sweetness of being kissed by a sunbeam.

 

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 is the new BC/Northern Regional Rep. for InScribe. His website is https://scarredjoy.ca.

 

Place Matters by Lorilee Guenter

 Psalm 18:19 He brought me into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.

I sat in a boat surrounded by water and sky. The clear water allowed us to watch the fish swim by suspended between air and sand. In the distance, we could see the curve of land where beach gave way to forest.

I drove a prairie road. Golden fields, sun kissed by the setting sun, rolled across the horizon. The highway created a dark ribbon tying them together as far as I could see.

I sit in a coffee shop surrounded by a hum of background noise. Outside the window, a snow covered field sparkles as it reflects the sun. A plane takes off casting a shadow as it briefly blocks the sun.

Spacious places, as a prairie girl, are a familiar landscape for me. Some people feel claustrophobic if they move from these wide open locations to more confined places. Mountains, forests, cities are a few of the more enclosed landscapes I think of. Even tighter spaces are subways, airplanes or elevators. Yet even these have enough room for their purpose.

Psalm 18:19 tells us "God brought me into a spacious place." One of the definitions of spacious in my dictionary is: affording ample room. God put me in a place with enough, and more than enough room. He knows what I need. Sometimes that is sitting in a boat watching fish swim by. Other times it is winding my way around trees through a forest. I can be surrounded by people or by nature and remain confident that God is present. He is a constant in every location I find myself in. Because of his presence, even the smallest of places becomes spacious - it contains ample room. 

Wherever I find myself, whether in a landscape that blends into the sky or among buildings so tall they seem to block out the sun, I seek to recognise God's presence. It is my spacious place. 

Lorilee Guenter is a writer and artist from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. She enjoys exploring God's creation. Her hobbies and interests are varied which leads to an eclectic set of books she is reading.

A Life Changed through Settings - Gloria Guest

Prairie Crocuses - Reg Guest

 It was a just a dusty little hamlet set on a lonely highway in Saskatchewan. I was thirteen and had just arrived to this place on the prairies with my family where we were to live, after a long drive from southern Ontario.  Fergus had been a beautiful, quaint place, with towering maple trees and highlighted by a lovely river that ran through its center along with gorgeous heritage buildings. It also had an outdoor pool where I was used to swimming my summers away. Heward looked more like a ghost town with a few scattered houses and not much else. At second glance though I grew quite excited upon seeing a very tall building with the single word POOL on the side. ‘Wow! I exclaimed, with renewed hope, ‘That pool must have a very high diving board!’ It’s funny now, but being an avid swimmer, I thought maybe this place wouldn’t be as bad as the rest of it looked. But my hopes died like a deflated beach ball, when I was told that the tall building was an elevator and it held….wheat. I was even more disappointed when I saw our dilapidated old house my father had purchased from only viewing a picture. I imagined that ‘maybe’ it had looked better at the time the picture was taken. But this place was shabby with worn paint and many tall, unruly weeds. Inside was even worse, with no heat, running water or indoor toilet!! The culture shock was immediate. It was also the first time I saw my tenacious, resolute mother cry as she swept up what looked like years of grime and dust and brushed it with hard strokes out the door. Her dreams had been dashed just as mine.

A few weeks later my aunt and uncle stopped by on their way back to Alberta and convinced my parents to move back to the province of their births. I couldn’t leave fast enough and so was the first to volunteer to go ahead with them, early. My young heart swore that I’d never be back to Saskatchewan! What good was there? Not a river in sight. Not even a swimming pool. Eventually we ended up living at Athabasca, Alberta, surrounded by whispering pines and gently rolling hills. It was a place of quiet beauty that nestled on the hill and spilled down into the valley that settled against the majestic Athabasca river.

I spent my high school years there and it was there I discovered that I was a writer, when I wrote a story for a National High school writers contest. In choosing my setting though, I didn’t choose the picturesque town of Fergus or the ruggedly beautiful Athabasca. Rather it was the stark little hamlet of Heward, Saskatchewan that became the setting for my characters. Even more surprising was that my fictionalized story, written in a setting that I never wanted to return to, placed first for Alberta.

But that is not the rest of the story. Only a few years later, I did find myself back in Saskatchewan when I married my husband who grew up on a farm near Pangman. Thankfully this little town did have running water and indoor bathrooms; but I still recall my first introductory drive down main street when a large tumble weed blew across the empty road, the lonely, barren winter when I’d look out the window and wonder if anyone actually lived here and worst of all the millions of grasshoppers I spent my first summer dodging. We farmed for seventeen years, mostly during drought years and eventually left to find other work. We finished raising our family in a new setting where I was able to expand my writing skills by working as a reporter and a columnist. It was a breath of fresh air.

However life threw some curve balls and we find ourselves back living in Pangman, where we live near our son and four of our grandchildren, which I love. However, some days I do wonder if anything good can come out of this place for me personally. There is no lively river running through town to quench my thirsty soul. Not even a cheerful little meandering creek. I’ve struggled again with depression and lack of motivation to write. But then I recalled that hated little town of Heward, and how I was never going back. Yet that very setting, ended up in a winning story that provided me with enough scholarship money to pay for me to attend Bible College. There I was not only strengthened in my faith but met my future husband.

I see setting very much like a river; sometimes it is strong with a heavy undercurrent, playing an intricate part through the entire piece, whereas other times it is meandering and slow, playing a lesser role but still there and important throughout. Setting adds another character and is important to the structure of your human characters. It molds and shapes who they are and who they become as much as the bricks and mortar of the area, shape the buildings. Perhaps though, setting doesn’t need to be as beautiful and charming as I’d prefer. Sometimes even a bleak setting can allow for the characters to play a more prominent role, set against it; as if with such scarcity, every little detail stands out. Perhaps that applies to people too.

Having never put down solid roots, I have found that, the many places I’ve lived; villages, towns, cities, and provinces, have all conjoined like a river through my soul that I can draw on like a thirsty traveler, when I need a nuance of place. It’s the only time that I feel blessed to have been so uprooted throughout my life.

Can anything good now come out of this place, having come full circle? A setting that I wouldn’t have chosen had life not intervened? Some would say not. But I say, yes….with God's grace, it can.

“If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink. He who believes in Me as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.”. John 7:38

Fergus Grand River

Gloria Guest writes and blogs from the village of Pangman Sk; a place with no river or creek in sight, although it does have a tiny outdoor pool. She has written many newspaper articles and columns for various papers; has taken creative writing courses from the U of T and editing courses from SFU and currently is writing a book of devotions. She enjoys memoir, creative non-fiction, poetry and the occasional fiction writing (with perhaps a growing interest on writing about small, dusty, prairie towns ;)

 

The Effect of Location by Carol Harrison

As I thought about this blog post prompt, my mind went blank. The empty page mocked me. I reread the verse and prompt multiple times trying to garner a glimmer of an idea. I chatted with my daughter, waiting for inspiration to strike.

In the end I kept thinking about the various places I have lived, experiences I’ve had, and family stories I listened to over the years. I realized that each of these have influenced my life and therefore, also my writing. God led me from growing up mostly in Saskatoon during the 50s and 60s to life in the north of Saskatchewan and back south again in different communities before bouncing back to the north and down south once again. God delighted to give me experiences I never dreamed of having and finally got through to me to start writing some of the stories down.

Growing up in Saskatoon in the 50s and 60s was a time where neighbours knew one another and as kids we gathered to play for most of the day. I learned the bus system and rode it across the city to my grandmother’s house by myself starting at the age of five. This location, along with the people that populated it, helped me become who I am.

Two of my granddaughters grew up in Saskatoon and attended the same elementary and high school I did. But their experience would affect their writing in different ways due to it being a different time in history. Life wasn’t as sheltered and safe as we’d felt in the 50s or so it felt to me.

But this city girl also experienced life in Northern Saskatchewan in the early 70s. My first glimpse of life in small isolated communities offered culture shock. My location and landscape changed and even though time had advanced in the south, these communities had no phone, television, or even a road to access them. They only houses with running water were the teacherages and the school along with the store and manager’s home. These experiences, living in a different culture within Saskatchewan, added to my writing and yet people seem to have a hard time believing my stories from the north could be true.

I saw no trees in the community of Wollaston Lake with my first glimpse of it from the air. As we glided into the bay on our float plane, people lined up to check who might be coming into their community. Tourists to go to fly in fish camps for a week? The new teachers? A shipment of goods for the store?

Power poles were taller than the few trees close to the community set on the point beside the bay of the big lake. Every home seemed to have multiple dogs tied up out back, all yipping to be heard. They were working dogs as most people didn’t trust the new-fangled machines called snowmobiles. You couldn’t go on as thin of ice or huddle close to it to stay warm in the short bush. It was a different location and would affect me for the rest of my life.

Moving south became another culture shock where the clock ruled most people’s lives in a rigid way unlike our years in the north. Trees and prairie land joined together to form the landscape and getting in and out of the community could be done without thought or great cost.

Even stranger to people was when we moved to the Whitkow Hills and lived in a house with no running water or sewer system for the first six months and no hot running water the entire time we lived there. Party line phones kept us in touch with the rest of our family and friends. For us it felt like a step up in some ways, at least for communication, but others looked at it as going backward in time to another era.

Location has made a big impact in these various times in my life and helped shape me into the person I am today. Each experience becomes part of our story, our history. Our story comes out in our writing in various ways. I have written and submitted stories of life in the north from a first-hand account. Some are accepted.

When I wrote my Prairie Hope series of books, the seed of the idea began way back in my childhood. I spent lots of time with my Mennonite grandparents and heard family stories through the years. They intrigued me and I longed to know more. Writing these books, which follow a Mennonite family, began as that seed of an idea planted long ago. It just needed time to grow and bloom. My childhood location and the people in it find their way into stories, poems, and articles I’ve written including a whole series of books.

Location or setting and time become key elements in planting seeds of ideas that come out in the setting and characters of our writing. We draw on our history and stories we’ve heard, people we’ve connected closely with, and experiences we’ve had. It’s just a matter of pulling from that wealth of knowledge, that is such a part of who we are, to grab a reader’s attention to the finer details of the place and time. We all have stories and settings surround us.

 

Carol Harrison has lived in a variety of locations around Saskatchewan before returning to Saskatoon. Each place affected her life and later her writing. One of her favourite places to be is near a lake or body of water. She finds that relaxing and inspiring.