Two Llamas and A Horse - Gloria Guest

Two Llamas and a Horse were grazing out in the field on a bright and sunny day, when the first Llama spotted their owner getting into his pick up truck. "I wonder where he goes everyday?" he mumbled through his mouthful of grass. "Me too," said the second Llama. "I wonder where he goes?" Horse watched their owner leaving the yard and driving up over the hill. "He always comes back with something. But never anything for us," he said in his most whinnying, whiny voice. "Ya," said the second Llama, shaking his hair out of his eyes, "He never has anything for us."

Yes, that is my attempt at the beginning of a children's story for this month's blog prompt on trying a new genre. It's actually based on the two llamas and a horse that my son had out on his farm. For years it was two Llamas and two Horses, and they didn't really mix with one another. But when the one horse died, I was amazed to notice that the two Llamas took the lone horse into their company. I always wondered at their camaraderie and thought it would make a good children's story, but all I had was the title: Two Llamas and A Horse. Even though I received my certificate years ago from the Institute for Writing For Children & Teenagers, I never really pursued the genre much after that. During the course I wrote quite a number of various stories, with the only one I recall being about a blue parrot in a pet store and its interactions with the customers who came in, in particular a curious little girl who befriended him. I don't remember much else, including the plot. I don't remember my instructor's remarks but I do recall not feeling very satisfied with the story at the time.

But over the years, writing for children has always sat on a back shelf in my mind. I particularly think of it when I recall how much I loved reading as a child and some of my favorite books such as, Curious George (written and illustrated by Margret and H.A. Rey), Charlotte's Web (written by E.B. White and illustrated by Garth Williams) and so many more children's books that ushered me into the love of reading. With Charlotte's Web I am continuously amazed how the author took something as simple as a pig (Wilbur) and a spider (Charlotte); and told such a fascinating tale. Yet even though it's a simple concept, the story actually deals with some real-life, heavier concepts such as the true definition of friendship and what sacrifice can really mean. That's the thing about writing a successful children's book; it can look simple; but it's really not. It requires the ability to get down to eye-level with your young reader so as not to talk down to them, while at the same time giving them something to reach for and grow into. It also requires an astute understanding of the language of children for the age you are trying to reach, yet not too overly simplified and not too far above them. Children do need to learn new and bigger words, and the context of a story is the perfect place to teach them, yet you need a well measured approach. A child's story book is actually a masterpiece of precision along with frivolity; a child's playground mixed in with a sprinkle of knowledge. It's an exercise of fantasy and whimsy and even gibberish intertwined while also offering them a long and soulful drink to expand their curiosity. It's an energetic undertaking which is perhaps why I shy away from it.

Fantasy, in particular, feels very left wing for my brain. I'm not sure why. Maybe I don't like the blurred lines with reality or perhaps it feels too nonsensical for my realistic mind. But children love fantasy so it never hurts to learn to write in that genre if you are going to write a children's book. Even a line or two of fantastical nonsense can keep them giggling. Come to think of it, the story The Wonky Donkey (written by Craig Smith, illustrator Katz Cowley), fits the Children's Literature/Fantasy genre quite well. I laughed and laughed my way through that ridiculous, crazy story while reading it to my granddaughter. She laughed too but perhaps also at her silly grandmother. Maybe that joyful experience is why my heart turned towards the thought of a children's book and fantasy for this month's blog post. Perhaps my Two Llamas and a Horse need to do something 'Wonky'.

Horse continued staring at the hill, where their owner had now disappeared over. "Well I'm not waiting anymore to find out," he said and ended it with his loudest neigh. "Let's go." "Ya," said the second Llama, "Let's go!" Giving yet another shake of his head to get the hair out of his eyes. First Llama looked up lazily from his grazing. "Really? You're both nuts." "We're All nuts," said Second Llama, "because you started it." "Awww sheesh," said First Llama, as he moved slowly to follow Horse who was already at the gate. "Hold on, Horse," he said, "I know just what to do to break us out of here. "Come on Second Llama, we'll need your help." With that, the Two Llamas and A Horse backed up and took their hardest charge at the gate, that had needed a bit of fixing awhile ago. Llama One had a very surprised look on his face. Llama Two still couldn't see through his hair, and Horse had his ears pinned back in excitement. It was finally going to happen. He would finally find out what was over that hill. They all looked at each other and then back at the fence and then......"Charge!" yelled Llama One. "Ya Charge!" Llama Two repeated. "Ok then," yelled Horse, "Charge!" And so they did.

Gloria writes and blogs from small town Saskatchewan near the very farm where Two Llamas and A Horse lived their best lives. Sadly Horse is the last survivor of the trio but the Two Llamas live on in his memories. Gloria usually writes Memoir, Creative Non-Fiction, Devotional, Poetry, and the occasional fiction. She is more than open to some feedback on what she considers her poor attempt at a Children's Story.

A Serious Reader by Gloria Guest

For this month's blog I decided to re-post a blog from several years ago, with a few updates. I feel confident that since we can re-read the same book over and over and still receive something from it, my past blog can pass also.😉

I’m a serious reader. By that, I don’t mean that I devour books weekly and have an entire stack by my bed. In fact, truth be told, it’s been quite a while since I’ve read my way through an entire book. I’ve been guilty of dropping quite a few of them smack dab in the middle and not finishing them, for reasons I’m not sure, other than they didn’t entirely hold my interest. This is not to say that they weren’t well written however. I feel it is more likely due to some chronic stress that has been a part of my life for awhile now. That being said though, a book for me, or most anything I read, needs to be deep, usually spiritual, although not directly, and purposeful.

I do daily read up on current events. It seems to be a need of mine, to know what’s going on in the world around me. I suppose even though I haven’t worked in the field for a while now, I’m a reporter at heart, as I tend to also feel the need to share my findings on social media.

I like to read historical fiction, and so have read many of Brock and Bodie Thoene’s books, and others who write in that genre. I also am drawn to memoirs. The saying that ‘the truth is stranger than fiction,’ is intriguing and often true. I myself have had some of my own truth questioned, in parts of my memoir. Memoir writing is perhaps one of the most vulnerable genres one can write in, and even though I shrink from it at times, at the same time I am fascinated and drawn in by it.

One book that has piqued my interest in the last while, and I hope to finish by summer's end (meaning I won’t drop it half way through) is such a memoir. It is called educated (in small letters) by Tara Westover and chronicles the author's life beginning in hardship and deprivation, from a young girl born in rural Idaho in 1986, to first setting foot in a classroom at the age of seventeen, and onwards to her further education at Brigham University and Trinity College and Cambridge University. Tara was born to survivalists in the mountains, who stockpiled supplies in the expectation of a government takeover. She and her siblings saw no doctors or nurses, and they were kept so isolated from mainstream society that there was no help to call when her dysfunctional family slipped into violence or her father became delusional. I find it hard to grasp that this was this young girl's life in 1986, in one of the most developed countries of the world. It’s also fascinating and uplifting to read her journey that takes her from such despair and want right into the some of the most upper education halls, in that same country. The strength and determination of the human spirit shines forth.

With this month’s theme being about our reading, I can’t help but think, what a fitting choice; to read about a young woman who wasn’t given the opportunity to read. It makes me realize that I take reading for granted. Reading came easy to me in school and was my most loved subject. From my early years of reading Curious George to Charlotte’s Webb to Little Women to The Hobbit (plus many more) and on to Shakespeare and the classics in high school; I wished that, that was all there was to school! It was the only subject that I was always at the head of the class for; reading and literature.

Next on my list is another memoir, called From The Ashes by Jesse Thistle. It chronicles his life in foster care as a young Metis-Cree from Prince Albert and the abuse he went through, and also the healing. Now living in Toronto, he has climbed through it all to become an assistant professor in Metis Studies at York University.

I believe that there is much to learn from a book, whether we agree with it or not. A book leads us into the lives of others, into our own lives, and our surrounding world. And no matter the subject, as a Christian I believe that God wants to also show up in the pages of the books we choose to read, to lead us ultimately to Him and His goodness. I can’t imagine my life without being able to read. Yet in our country and others there are still those who are illiterate or have never been taught to read well. Now I enjoy reading to my Grandchildren, and it was in fact, the first activity I did with the five year old twins who joined our family nine years ago now. I read to them from my son's book that I had read to him as a child called Butter Cup the Cow, and the bonding began. :)

I don't want to continue to take reading for granted, so as a 'serious reader' my plan is to start taking the privilege of reading, more seriously.

Gloria reads and writes from the prairie town of Pangman, SK. She is a past reporter with many published articles and columns in various newspapers and a prolific reader of world and current events. She also especially enjoys reading memoirs and devotionals. She has taken editing classes online from Simon Fraser University, Creative Writing classes from the U of T and has published fiction in two anthologies. She continues to dabble at writing her own memoir, along with having other writings in the works.

On Love and Bullying - Gloria Guest

I was in kindergarten when I learned what Valentine’s Day and bullying were, on the same day.

The room was abuzz with excitement, as we each gave and received valentines to and from every classmate. I felt so happy each time one of the shiny, bright valentines was given to me. We each had a special bag to store them in and I couldn’t wait to take mine home to show my mom and sisters.

But then Janet, a girl beside me, started one by one, taking my valentines and adding them to hers. I was too intimidated to say no. By the time she was finished my heart was feeling as depleted as the little pile she had left me with. Valentines, I decided, was not so much fun after all, and I had just been introduced to my first bully.

Thinking back, I can’t help but wonder at how my child’s mind tried to comprehend two such juxtaposed experiences; that of friendship and love being combined with bullying and selfishness. It can be hard enough for adults to put them together, even as life experience has taught us they do sometimes come at once. If we are truthful we will admit that it is often the ones we love the most that we also hurt the most. How to understand this?

In James 3:10, James writes, “Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be.” How many times have I done this; especially to those closest to me?

This can be applied to our writing also. How often have we written that defensive or angry text and then hit send? Or written an article with a harsh edge we try to ignore? We can think we are hiding a hardened heart but it’s revealed in our tone.

“If I speak (or write) in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.” I Cor 13:1. This makes me consider further, how ‘clanging’ I might be sounding to my readers. Or worse, to God.

Just as it was too much for me as a five year old to consider the presence of love and friendship hand in hand with the presence of bullying and selfishness, so it’s hard to wrap my head around the presence of goodness and caring in my words, existing alongside my unresolved issues and self-serving motives possibly lurking behind them.

Christ is our only hope. Paul exclaimed, after detailing how he often wants to do what is good but then does not do it; “What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!” Rom 7:24-25.

Both of those little girls in that kindergarten room that day, needed the help of Jesus; one to understand that she didn’t need to grasp for more love because God already loved her fully and the other to know that when someone hurts her, God's perfect love still exists and He wants to wrap his arms around her to comfort her.

Happy belated Valentine's to all of my Inscribe writer friends. May you too learn to not grasp for more love from those around you and to be comforted by God's love instead, as you endeavor to write from a heart filled with love.

Gloria Guest endeavors to write with a heart of love from the Saskatchewan prairies; which have included many newspaper articles and columns as a past reporter. She is published in two anthologies and is currently working on writing a devotional with the desire to provide hope to those who have gone through life's trials.

A Bird in the Hand by Gloria Guest

It was a magical moment; after some patience and a lot of standing still as a statue with outstretched arm, a small bird had landed on my hand to enthusiastically peck at the birdseed I held. So light that I couldn’t really feel it except for its beak pecking away at the seeds and its tiny claws poking into my skin. I held my breath lest it would fly away. Eventually it did of course as all fragile moments do.

This month's theme What is in your hand? brought back my little bird experience. The saying goes, ‘A bird in the hand is better than two in the bush’ and I’d have to agree. I could never have experienced the uniqueness of that bird if it hadn’t been so willing to alight on my hand. It made me realize how often I’ve searched for ‘birds in the bush’ in my writing endeavours rather than taking the disciplined route of being still, quieting my soul to let an idea alight and then be still further, to take in all the moment has to offer, long enough to not let it take flight before the idea has been nourished in my mind.

Searching around for other ‘birds’ by comparing myself to others or not being willing to focus on what is in front of me has taken away from my writing.

That little bird reminds me that life is fragile and fleeting and when a creative, beautiful, unique idea alights on my hand, I need to protect and nourish its presence, letting it become all it needs to be before I finally release it into the world.

In contemplating this I realize that a few ‘birds’ are in my hand today that I can make space for:

I belong to a small writers group that offers camaraderie, encouragement and accountability. To this I need to show up for and grow.

I have re-committed to writing for the monthly Inscribe blog; this serves as seed by the way of discipline and opportunity to share my voice however small that may be.

I have a devotional project in the works which will include both past and future writing; I need to be patient and present and enjoy the process, rather than chase it off with discouragement as I’ve done with some other longer term writing projects.

 
Thank you to Inscribe Christian Writers Group for the renewed opportunity to blog on this page and for all you do to inspire and encourage many writers, including myself.

Gloria Guest blogs and writes from a small prairie town in southern Saskatchewan. Her writing aims to bring hope and healing. Her published work includes newspaper articles, fiction and poetry. Currently she is writing creative non-fiction/memoir and devotional.

A is for the Armor of God - Gloria Guest

 "Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might.  Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.  For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of]the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.  Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand." *

I've had those verses taped to my bedroom mirror for a couple of years now, although admit to only glancing at them a few times. Lately though, God has nudged me to look at them closer, and so I've meditated on it more. 

I was going to  title this blog, A is for Attack, and then another nudge suggested to me that perhaps I should instead write about the best way to deal with an attack...which is by putting on the Whole Armor of God. And so I share the following verses of the same passage.

"Stand therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having put on the breastplate of righteousness,  and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all, taking the shield of faith with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one.  And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God; praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, being watchful to this end with all perseverance and supplication for all the saints." *

Although those verses are talking about our daily lives as a Christian, they also so aptly apply to our written words. How am I supposed to write authentically, vulnerably, truthfully and courageously if I go into it unprepared? I won't. My writing will either fall flat as to what God had intended for it, failing to reach hearts, or perhaps I will be unprepared for an all-out attack, and give up altogether.

That is what actually happened to me late last fall. It came out of the blue, and the words used to attack my writing, hit like bullets. I can handle critique. I can do something with critique, even if I disagree with it. But these words were jeering and character bashing and to make it worse, they came from people I had trusted, people in my close circle. For a writer to publish their words, it takes strength and vulnerability. I don't often publish. Honestly, I rarely publish. And so this attack came as a crushing blow. I phoned a few friends/family members and cried and said something like, "I'm never publishing anything again." They of course encouraged me not to give up, but at the time I could see no other option. Even this blog is a leap of faith as I skipped over two of them since this event took place. But here it is. Another nudge from God.

 I look at the armor I am to wear and am encouraged and challenged all at once. So much to put on! Yet, if I do....then that means I'll be protected by the very One who calls me to write. This doesn't mean an attack won't come. It just means, I'll be prepared and can fight off the plans of the wicked one who desires that I don't publish anything, to try to reach others.

This is the armor I am to wear daily and every time I attempt to write anything:

-WAIST GIRDED WITH TRUTH - Where have I been listening to lies, rather than the truth about my writing? Where have I maybe spoken lies (about anything at all) in my writing? Am I careful when wielding my words?

-BREASTPLATE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS- Righteousness only comes from God. Am I using this piece of armor to protect the enemy from attacking my weaknesses? Or am I leaving myself exposed with my own, bare, human efforts?

-FEET SHOD WITH THE GOSPEL OF PEACE - Do I aim for peace first of all in a conflict? Do I walk it out? 

SHIELD OF FAITH TO QUENCH ALL THE FIREY DARTS OF THE WICKED ONE - Do I allow my faith in God to be greater than those darts fired towards my heart, or do I instead allow them to sink in and fester?

HELMET OF SALVATION & SWORD OF THE SPIRIT WHICH IS THE WORD OF GOD - Basically when our head (mind) is not protected, nothing is protected. Do I wear my helmet daily and take up the sword which God has given me (spiritual warfare) to fight off the enemy? Scripture needs to be planted in my heart so that during those crisis moments it is automatically there as a protection.

Finally, we are told to pray and be watchful, with perseverance. It all sounds like such a tall order, but just as a soldier puts on his armor one piece at a time, we too take up our armor piece by piece as we don it each day. 

I happen to be a military mom to a son who is a Sargant in the Canadian Army. Over the years I've been privileged to watch him grow in character and discipline, along with physical strength and prowess. It has all taken him much discipline and perseverance. His reward is that he's risen in the ranks and has become an Instructor, but more importantly, if he faces conflict, he will be much more prepared (and can help prepare others) than if he hadn't applied himself so well. I love how God uses the example of putting on our armor like a soldier, in our daily Christian lives. It's the only way to live with wisdom and it's the only way to be a Christian writer seeking to give my all for God's purposes.

Soldier On.

*Ephesians 6: 12-18 NKJV

 

 

Gloria writes from her little house on the prairies in Caron, Sk; where she lives with her husband (when he's not on the road trucking) and her cat Tigger (who lives up to his name). She doesn't like to be 'attacked' over her writing, but will gladly take careful critique where needed. If attacked again though - she plans to have her armor on and ready.

Next to being a wife, mother, grandmother, writing is her calling, whether she writes much or little, or whether she publishes or not. 

Unwavering Presence - Gloria Guest

🌄 

Light, Mountain, Forgiveness, Redemption.

Where is the light?

The Redemption and Forgiveness?

There is only this 

Mountain.

Better if I had picked three other words, 

To accompany me through the past year

Confusion, Anger, Despair.

Now, in the waning days of November

I stare up at that Mountain,

Standing on its rocky footstool,

I have barely even begun to climb.

I take in its height and incline,

I can't climb that, I think.

But here it is

It's not moving

And so, I must

Somehow.

I know it can only be done

By holding that same hand,

That brought me this far, through this year,

Of valleys and unexpected, twists and turns,

I hope I don't fall, I think

You might, I hear

But I've got you,

I always do.

And so, I gingerly step up and out 

Perhaps, I think, those other words

Light, Forgiveness, Redemption

Will track me into this new year,

Full of the unexpected,

Yet full of Gods steady hand and 

Unwavering presence.

"Man plans his way but the Lord establishes his steps."

Proverbs 16:9 (ESV)

Gloria writes from Caron, Sk on issues close to her heart, 

through memoir, fiction, non-fiction & poetry. She has

published many newspaper articles and columns throughout

various newspaper in the province, has some pieces published in

anthologies, and continues to take editing classes from SFU.

My Portion - Gloria Guest

“But Martha was distracted by all the preparations to be made. She came to Jesus and said, ‘Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her to help me! “Martha, Martha, the Lord replied, you are worried and upset about many things. But only one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:39-41 {Berean Bible} Was Jesus saying that what Martha was doing, making preparations for all of their visitors, not important? I don’t think so. I think he was saying to Martha, that she had gotten herself worried and distracted to the point of not allowing another their freedom to choose, to the point of not setting her own priorities and choosing more wisely. The thing about distractions is that they are usually good, or at least seem good. I find in my life that I also often use them to avoid something that I am uncomfortable with and don’t want to face. Then I can say that I was too busy to do it. Just like Martha, I choose something else, something that even seems necessary, but I am failing to look deeper into why I made that choice. Or perhaps, even worse, I know why I’m doing it but do it anyways. I find myself in such a place with my writing. I know that I am called to write. I even have a few ideas on what I could write about. I have a writing project in the works. But, I just don’t do it. I let myself be distracted. Sometimes, we do have to put aside our wants and goals for the sake of others. Looking after my grandchildren has been this for me. But there comes a time when we still need to carve out that time to do what we believe God has called us to do. I’m in this hole pretty deep and I still don’t quite know how I will get out of it. One thing that I’ve chosen though is to (at the request of another) try to lead a small writers group in my community. I’ve attempted one before that did not get off the ground. That’s right….I became distracted; most likely with fear. This time, I again feel fear. Mostly it’s the fear of not having enough to offer. I’m not an author of a book. My writing credits consist of newspaper columns and articles but those are all in the past. I have a couple of stories in the Inscribe anthologies. I’ve sent a poem to Fellowship. I write for this Inscribe Blog but have been having trouble with even being faithful to that. Mostly, I’ve written very little in the past ten years. Depression, which in part came upon me from leaving the reporting job that I loved, took over, along with a gathering storm of low self-esteem, loneliness and isolation. We also experienced business, health, injury and family issues during this time. Writing seemed lost to me. As a pick-me-up, and what I thought at the time might be just another distraction, I started to take some editing classes from Simon Fraser University, with the thought that it would keep one foot in the writing world and at the least help to improve my writing. I think it’s been working and that what I originally thought was nothing more than an empty distraction, is turning into a blessing in that I’ve sensed myself coming alive again in my interest to write. Only God knows what that ‘better portion,’ is for each of us. Only we can hear His gentle, even if reprimanding voice for ourselves. I can hear Jesus speaking Martha’s name so gently but saying it twice to get her attention, just as He wants to speak to me. “Gloria, Gloria, you are worried and upset about many things (see above list) but only one thing is necessary.” What is that necessary thing? It’s to leave all else and to sit at the feet of Jesus when He calls me to. To relax in His presence and listen. It is only from there that I can be led into all good things, including my writing. That is my portion.

Gloria writes from her small hamlet of Caron, Sk. where she resides with her husband and new kitten, Tigger (the latest recent distraction). She has written thousands of newspaper articles as a reporter/freelance reporter for various newspapers, mostly enjoying lifestyle pieces. She has also contributed to two Inscribe anthologies and is currently working on a poetry book about Saskatchewan. Other writing interests include memoir and telling stories from her own life to help others who deal with tough issues.

You'll find me in my Words - Gloria Guest

The first poem I wrote was at the age of seven for my father. I poured out my love for him in my attempt at a father’s day card. When I was eight I wrote a poem for my mother. It was something about her smiling face, cheerful ways, helping me with my weed collection (ha-ha), and how to ‘housewife’ when I grew up. Those two poems were the buds from which my love for writing would grow. From there I wrote short stories for my language classes throughout school and learned that I loved to write. Finding my voice through writing made my heart sing.

In grade twelve, I wrote a story for a competition that centred on a small town in Saskatchewan. It was a fictional story but contained elements of my experience of living there for a few weeks when I was a young teenager. I was surprised when I placed first in Alberta for my entry. Looking back though, I think I can see what the judges saw. I had stepped into the pages of that story with all of my vulnerabilities and teenage angst shining forth. I had been unceremoniously ‘transplanted’ from a serene, quaint, southern Ontario town with all the amenities that I was used to, to a middle of nowhere, dusty hamlet on the prairies, and to make it even more absurd to a soon to be fourteen year old, our house had no indoor plumbing! I was convinced that I had stepped into a time warp and was never coming out! Yet, without writing about those actual horrors, you can feel them hanging in the lines between the story. I’m walking between my words; my transplanted yet refusing to be rooted soul.

As an adult I took on the role of reporter for a local newspaper, a dream I'd had since I'd graduated. I loved all aspects of it, especially the building of a story from the interviews that I did. I also wrote lifestyle columns for various newspapers where I had free reign to play out parts of myself, sharing every day, yet thought-provoking pieces, usually with snippets of humour woven in. I revelled in writing those columns and when someone mentioned something I’d said, my heart sang a song of happiness.

I write poetry still. I’ve found it a lovely and practical tool to express some of my deepest thoughts, hurts and experiences from my life. Each word has to be carefully crafted to mean something and earn its spot. In the process, one has to pay close attention to the carriage of emotions, and how to translate them best. It may look simple on a scrap of paper, sparsely typed in four or five stanzas but it’s a carving out of the heart for me. When I finally sit back, the rythm of the poem is played back for me, like a song. 

I also write memoir. It’s in this genre that I journey back into my past, gaining new perspectives, and mining areas of my life that I’d never seen before for new insight; it’s where I grow the most as a person and as a writer. It’s also here that vulnerability becomes so important; there is no well-written memoir without an exposing of one’s soul. And it’s an invitation; in the hopes of being a little more known and helping my reader to get to know themselves just a little more too.

My heart can be found in all of my writing in some way or fashion. And I’m grateful for each reader who meanders with me through my pathway of words.

 

Gloria writes from Caron, Sk; a small hamlet on the prairies. Along with many published articles andcolumns in various newspapers, she enjoys writing fiction, creative-non fiction, poetry and memoir. Currently she is working on a small poetry booklet about Saskatchewan, along with taking editing classes from Simon Fraser University.

Love Multiplies by Gloria Guest

 I love watching my grown sons be daddies to their daughters. My oldest son has three daughters (one son) and my younger son has one daughter. There is something incredibly beautiful about the father-daughter relationship that starts right at birth and when done well, carries a girl into adulthood with intact security and a strong sense of her identity. 

I have watched my sons glow with pride with a simple look at their daughters; I’ve witnessed them play and be silly until my granddaughters are squealing with delight. I’ve witnessed their patience and gentleness. I’ve been in awe of it all. Are these really the two rambunctious boys I raised, now such loving daddies to girls? 

I never had a father like they are to their daughters and perhaps that is why I notice it so much and am so appreciative of it. Where did it come from, this love that they have for their little girls? It’s obviously not just a given. Many fathers do not love their daughters (or sons). Mine didn’t. Some fathers, like mine, view their daughters as ‘less than important than a boy,’ and much worse. So where does it come from? 

A lot of it is a mystery to me. God’s grace has reached down into our family and did something more than I could have even imagined. I know my husband and I tried our best to instill our love into our sons; we were far from perfect (I cringe thinking of some of my parenting blunders) yet I do believe they knew that they were loved. Love has an amazing ability to multiply. In fact, that may be what it does best. Multiply. I never dreamed that while I was trying to show my sons love that it would multiply in such a way that the generational curse in my family, of fathers not loving their daughters, would be broken. But it is. It’s broken. My sons love their daughters. I am humbled to have played my role. I am blessed when I think of what that will mean for my granddaughters. I’m happy that I get to be a partaker in watching it happen. 

Love is truly far more powerful than we can ever imagine. Love multiplies.

Gloria blogs and writes creative non-fiction, poetry, and fiction/memoir from her prairie home in southern Sk. Easter is her absolute favorite celebration of her Risen Lord and King. You can find some of her less recent writing at www.gloria.guest.wordpress.com

photo credit Julie Huard

Four Words for 2022 - Gloria Guest

 This year I feel that God had given me four words for the journey through 2022:

 Light,

 Mountain,

 Forgiveness, 

Redemption, 

There is a lot packed into those four words; 

I loved the word, ‘light’ as it suggests that some darkness, which I have known for too long, will dissipate. I have spent a lot of time in my past working on some very hard areas in my life and so the promise of the word, ‘light’ feels rewarding and welcome to me. I can’t wait to find out what God wants to show me in the light. One area of light that recently revealed itself in my writing life came in the way of some inspiration as to who I could ask to illustrate a small booklet, about a poem I wrote about Saskatchewan. It’s long been on my mind; and there she was, illuminated in my mind as the perfect person. Personally, God revealed to me some words that were spoken to me regarding friendship that I needed to break off of my life. I’m looking forward to God shining His light on new friendships this year.

Psalm 18:28 “You, Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.”

On the other hand, I shrank from the word, ‘mountain.’ It sounded grueling and like more hard work coming my way. I’m sure that there probably is. Yet I have climbed mountains before in my life and was never alone. God has always been there. He’s taught me already that it’s one step at a time. Perhaps that is why He led me to buy a life journal to keep me motivated along the way. It’s definitely part of my ‘climbing kit’ and I’ll be looking for other tools as well, with the comfort that comes straight from His word, the best there is.

 

Ps 121:1-2 “I life up my eyes to the mountains-where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”

The word, ‘forgiveness’ also seems daunting; yet I wasn’t surprised as God had already been leading me to learn more about what true forgiveness is and isn’t. Forgiveness has been hard for me. Great hurt can produce great pain and great resentment. These things aren’t as easily dealt with as many Christians would have us believe. But through some trauma healing, I find myself at a better place to consider how forgiveness can be a bigger part of my daily life. I look forward to moving forward in life without the baggage of unforgiveness weighing me down.

 

Luke 23: 34 “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

The last word, ‘redemption,’ came to me through a quiz I took, through Hallmark cards online. I answered a few personal questions about where I was at in my emotional and spiritual life and that is the word it gave me for 2022. I found it intriguing. I still haven’t looked it up definition-wise, but I do know that it is about being bought back; being forgiven and renewed; both of which. I think this word might end up proving the most rewarding and exciting of my year.

Lamentations 3:57-58 “You came near when I called you, and you said, “Do not fear. You, Lord, took up my case; you redeemed my life.”

What direction will God lead me in my personal and writing life as I unpack those four words He has given me? I just know that in the next months that God wants to lead me into the light; He has a mountain for me to climb, (which will include that tough word, forgiveness) but not alone. I’ll be with Him in the climbing and maybe by the end of the year there will even be a glorious summit, where I will meet that beautiful word, ‘redemption.’

Gloria Guest lives in Caron, Sk. where she writes and blogs. She is a past reporter/columnist and has published a few other personal pieces, with a work in progress. She also takes editing classes from Simon Fraser University, working towards an Editing Certificate.

Even the Wind and the Waves - Gloria Guest

I've had a stormy week. I did not want to write this blog post at all, until I decided to just share what's on my heart. Most of you know that I'm a past reporter and a prolific reader, watcher and listener of world events, including events here in Canada. Some of you know that I'm a military mom; our youngest son, now 31 years old, has served in the Canadian Military since he was 18. 

He missed having to go to Afghanistan by one year, as he took a year at the Royal Military College, before deciding that he would rather go the non-commissioned route. As his parents, we have often wondered at the incredible timing of that. If not for that one year of school, he would have most likely been on one of the last tours to Afghanistan, before Canada withdrew. Would he have come back? And if he had come back, would he have come back the same? What would it have been like for us as parents to know our son was in a combat zone, overseas? We were so thankful that we never had to go through that. 

Since then, he has done two tours to Latvia, where he was a part of the NATO forces training Latvian soldiers to defend against Russian forces, and helped to secure the border. At no time was he in combat. Still, it wasn't easy; we knew the training could be dangerous, there are always the questions of 'what if?' He came home mid-July after serving six months and we breathed a sigh of relief knowing he was back on Canadian soil. 

 We all have heard about the tumultuous and dangerous withdrawal of American troops from Afghanistan, this past week. For me as a military parent, I've found my heart stirred many times, thinking of those who served, those who died, those who were injured, and all of the parents. What must they be feeling to see things end in such a way? I read of an American mother who held up her picture of her then 19 year old son, who would now be 31 (just like our son), who was killed on tour over there, at that young age. She said that she cannot bring herself to say that it was all for nothing, even though many of them are feeling that way. I can't imagine. Or the turmoil in the hearts of those who fought and lost their buddies over there. What tortuous memories have resurfaced for them? I've read that many are struggling. 

Then there are the Afghan soldiers who helped our troops as interpreters and in various other roles, who have been left behind to most likely be killed, along with their families. This was never supposed to happen. Promises were made and broken. I've since read that more effort is in the works to bring them out. However, time is running out. It was never properly planned. It was a debacle of the worst kind. 

And so, my heart has not been at peace this past week. Not. At. All. But there is this. All week, and even last week, perhaps in preparation for this week's news, I've been thinking of the scripture portion where the disciples are crossing the water with Jesus, and a huge storm rolls in. They are petrified. Yet when they look around, they discover Jesus, is sleeping through it all!! This is unacceptable to them and they wake him, shouting at him, that they were going to drown. He replied, "You of little faith, why are you so afraid?" Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm. The men were amazed and asked, "What kind of man is this? Even the winds the waves obey him.

Even the wind and the waves…. It sounds like Jesus speaks to them as foolish children. 'You of little faith, why are you so afraid?' Jesus was not afraid. He slept, knowing that His Father had it all in control. And then to show them the truth, he simply rebukes the winds and waves. Just. Like. That. 

And so, with that in mind, where does that leave my tormented heart at the end of this week, with all of the what ifs? Believe me, with the state that this world is in, a military mom can come up with a lot of them. I feel like the disciples. 'Jesus, why are you sleeping?! Don’t you see me drowning here?’ Just as Jesus responded to their fears, he responds to mine. When I truly listen, truly call out to him even in a panic, he does calm the wind and waves of my heart. Often, he reminds me of when our son was born, and how when I first held him, I had such a sense of his inner strength and heard God whisper into my mother's heart, that someday that strength would be required of him. My baby. I did not know what it meant. I still don't totally. Yet God gave him that strength and God will carry him through wherever he takes him, and my heart that goes along with him. Thanks for letting me share my heart.

Gloria Guest writes and blogs from her home in Caron, Sk. As a past reporter, she has written thousands of newspaper articles and written many lifestyle columns for various publications. She is a prolific reader of world events and deeply interested in social issues, which are often reflected in her writings. Currently, she is enrolled at Simon Fraser University, working towards obtaining her Editing Certificate. (Sorry, but she was too tired to edit this post to at :D - she's still in training ;)

A Serious Reader - by Gloria Guest

 

I’m a serious reader. By that, I don’t mean that I devour books weekly, and have an entire stack by my bed. In fact, truth be told, it’s been quite a while since I’ve read my way through an entire book. I’ve been guilty of dropping quite a few of them smack, dab in the middle and not finishing them, for reasons I’m not sure, other than for whatever reason they didn’t entirely hold my interest. This is not to say that they weren’t well written however. I feel it is more likely due to something going on within myself. That being said though, a book for me, or most anything I read, needs to be deep, usually spiritual, although not directly, and purposeful.

I do daily read up on current events. It seems to be a need of mine, to know what’s going on in the world around me. I suppose even though I haven’t worked in the field for a while now, that I’m a reporter at heart, as I tend to also feel the need to share my findings on social media.

I like to read historical fiction, and so have read many of Brock and Bodie Thoene’s books, and others who write in that genre. I also am drawn to memoirs. The saying that ‘the truth is stranger than fiction,’ is intriguing and often true. I myself have had some of my own truth questioned, in parts of my memoir. Memoir writing is perhaps one of the most vulnerable genres one can write in, and even though I shrink from it at times, at the same time I am fascinated and drawn in by it.

One book that has piqued my interest in the last while, and I hope to finish by summers end (meaning I won’t drop it half way through) is such a memoir. It is called educated (in small letters) by Tara Westover and chronicles the authors life beginning in hardship and deprivation, from a young girl born in rural Idaho in 1986, to first setting foot in a classroom at the age of seventeen, and onwards to her further education at Brigham University and Trinity College and Cambridge University. Tara was born to survivalists in the mountains, who  stockpiled supplies in the expectation of a government takeover. She and her siblings saw no doctors or nurses and they were kept so isolated from mainstream society that there was no help to call when her dysfunctional family slipped into violence or her father became delusional. I find it hard to grasp that this was this young girls life in 1986, in one of the most developed countries of the world. It’s also fascinating and uplifting to read her journey that takes her from such despair and want right into the some of the most upper education halls, in that same country. The strength and determination of the human spirit shines forth.

With this month’s theme being about our summer reading, I can’t help but think, what a fitting choice; to read about a young woman who wasn’t given the opportunity to read.

It makes me realize that I take reading for granted. Reading came easy to me in school and was my most loved subject. From my early years of reading, Curious George, to Charlotte’s Webb to Little Women, to The Hobbit (plus many more) and on to Shakespeare and the classics in high school; I wished that, that was all there was to school! It was the only subject that I was always at the head of the class for; reading and literature. 

I’m most definitely going to finish this book. Next on my list is another memoir, handed to me by my daughter-in-law, called From The Ashes by Jesse Thistle. It chronicles his life in foster care as a young Metis-Cree from Prince Albert and the abuse he went through, and also the healing. Now living in Toronto, he has climbed through it all to become an assistant professor in Metis Studies at York University. The timing of such a book does not escape me with the recent spotlight on the residential schools in Canada.

I believe that there is much to learn from a book, whether we agree with it or not. A book leads us into the lives of others, into our own lives, and our surrounding world. And no matter the subject, as a Christian, I believe that God wants to also show up in the pages of the books we choose to read, to lead us ultimately to Him and His goodness.

 I can’t imagine my life without being able to read. Yet in our country and others there are still those who are illiterate or have never been taught to read well. Now I enjoy reading to my Grandchildren, and it was in fact, the first activity I did with the five year old twins who joined our family, five years ago now. I read to them from my sons book that I had read to him as a child called, Butter Cup the Cow, and the bonding began :) 

I don't want to continue to take reading for granted. I'm most definitely going to take it more seriously.

Gloria reads for herself and to her grandchildren from the prairie town of Caron, Sk. She is a past reporter with hundreds of published articles and columns in various newspapers and a prolific reader of world and current events. She currently takes editing classes online from Simon Fraser University, has published fiction in two anthologies and continues to dabble at writing her own memoir, along with having other writings in the works.

Be Better - Gloria Guest

For this month’s theme I thought I would get my inspiration from the first letter of each word as I enjoy the  acrostic format and think it’s a great way to condense a lot of information. Inscribe has offered me so much over the years that it is too much to write in long form.

 

I is for Inspiration. I am always inspired by Inscribe. Whether it is a post from another writer or a conference speaker or something written in Fellowship Magazine or just a one on one chat with another member I come away inspired to be better at what I do.

N is for New Writing Friends. Without Inscribe I would know only a handful of other writers. I’m not the reaching out kind of person but Inscribe has given me an opportunity to slowly start interacting with more writers over the years. Bobbie Junior was one of my first writer friends through Inscribe and her input and impact will continue on.

S is for Scribbling. Inscribe has encouraged me to ‘just write.’ I haven’t been as successful at that as I always hope to be but I don’t plan to quit. This year I want to get back to my journaling. I’m working on a small project with a poem about Saskatchewan that I wrote years ago (another S word) that I hope to turn into a small book. Small is an important S word also. We don’t have to start big. We can start small. That is something that Inscribe has taught me. I also started back with this monthly blog as I liked the discipline and interaction and the chance to ‘scribble’ that it provides me.

C is for Conferences. I’ve been fortunate to attend two of Inscribe’s conferences. I was first introduced to them when not a member yet, by Pam Mytroen who would return from one full of enthusiasm and encouragement. Pam and I were from the same town and attended a small writers group together. Eventually she convinced me that it was worth attending. I enjoyed both immensely; meeting new people, listening to speakers, my blue pencil session with Bobbie Junior and so much more. I hope to attend more in the future. Also great have been any ‘mini’ workshops I’ve been able to attend here in southern Saskatchewan. Anywhere that writers gather, especially Inscribe writers is bound to be fun and inspiring.

R is for Right Now as in there is no time like the present to improve one’s writing or to work on that article/book/story. This is something I am learning by watching the rest of you. I am so inspired with how much so many of you accomplish. Yet I still need to go at my own pace and consider all of my responsibilities (a great R word) in balance. This is such a tricky thing to do. Any and all suggestions are welcome!

 

I is for Informative. One of the main things that Inscribe has done for me is to provide me with so much information in the writing world. Information that I may never have sought out myself.

 

B is for Be Better. As I just said I want to be better and Inscribe offers many opportunities to do that. I especially enjoyed my chance to get something published in the Christmas Anthology. Publishing has been a roadblock for me. I tend to write it and push it up on a dusty shelf somewhere or lose it in the overrun files on my computer. But with encouragement from Inscribe (and my friend Pam Mytroen –she should have her own letter LOL) I did send something in and it was accepted. Thank you Inscribe and thank you Pam.

 

E is for Enjoyment. I felt I’d already covered the word encouragement and really if it’s not enjoyable I doubt any of us would do it. I find my involvement with Inscribe enjoyable, friendly and interactive. All things I need in my personal life and in my writing life. At the moment, E also stands for Editing as I’m currently enrolled in a Grammar class (my weakness, along with publishing) from Simon Fraser University, with the aim of one day obtaining my Editing Certificate. Good grammar is a cornerstone of all good writing, so it is something that will also help me ‘be better’ in my writing also.

I’ve enjoyed this little exercise and probably got more out of it than you did reading it. Thank you for reading. And thank you for being a part of Inscribe which I consider my writing family J

 

 * Gloria has been an Inscribe member since 2012 and has written blog posts and published a story in Christmas Stories and More. Watch for her upcoming story in their Easter Anthology. She also is a past reporter where she has many published news articles and columns. Currently she is working towards her Editing Certificate. Her most recent writing project is a small poetry book about the province of Saskatchewan, a place she has come to love and cherish. 

Perfect Light - Gloria Guest

 

“We three Kings of Orient are, bearing gifts we traverse afar…..”

“O star of wonder, star of night, star with royal beauty bright, west-ward leading, still proceeding, guide us to thy perfect light….”

Those are just a couple of  lines  from the familiar Christmas Carol, We Three Kings*. The popular Carol is often sung at Church Christmas pageants, with the usual bath-robed and towel turbaned three children walking down the aisle, carrying their tin foiled gifts of Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh, to kneel at the manger of baby Jesus.

It was over two thousand years ago that these mysterious Wisemen so determinedly followed an intriguing star in the ancient sky, through 'field and fountain, moor and mountain,' and were rewarded with  finding the Christ Child, where they worshipped Him.

                                                *****************************

Most in our modern world have heard of that rare aligning of the planets Jupiter and Saturn that occurred on December 21^st. It was aptly given the name of The Christmas Star. Many biblical scholars and scientists believe that the planets Jupiter and Saturn aligned, along with other celestial bodies, during the birth of Christ and hasn’t been seen in almost eight centuries.

I really wanted to see the Christmas Star. The last time the planets formed a closer conjunction and lit up the sky so brilliantly was on March 4, 1226. It would be a sight to behold and it made me feel a slight kinship to those Wisemen of old who had witnessed something similar and burned within to learn more about it. But unlike the Wiseman I wasn’t going to  load up my camel and travel across treacherous lands. I was simply planning on observing it from my back deck.

This event was different and not exactly the same as the original Star of Bethlehem. We also don’t really know what possible spiritual significance it has, but Christians do believe that God is revealing His signs of the times. We can only wonder what that could be.

I didn’t get to see the star. The night skies had other plans for me, and most of Canada in fact, as our sky was overcast with clouds, obscuring the view.  So I settled for some magnificent pictures captured around the world. Still, I wish I had seen it.

All the talk of the Christmas star made we wonder how the Wisemen felt each night as they lay their heads down,  the star of Bethlehem shining overhead, “always leading, always guiding,” as the song says. They must have anticipated what they would find. Would they find anything at all?

In Matthew 2: 9 -12 we are told a part of their story,

“When they had heard the King (Herod) they departed, and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was.

“When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy.

And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, the presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.

And being warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed into their own country another way.” KJV

Our own Christmas Star all these years later leads me to believe that God is still asking us to trust Him and follow Him. Through the deserts of our lives, through the treachery, through the mystery and unanswered questions. While we aren't to worship the stars or use them to guide our personal lives, they do speak to us of God's glory and are a constant reassurance of His presence.

"Lift up your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things, that bringeth out their host by number: he calleth them all by names by the greatness of his might, for that he is strong in power; not one faileth." Isaiah 41:6 NKJ

2020 was no easy year for pretty much anyone on the face of the earth. Some have had it much harder than others with the loss of loved ones, through Covid or consequences from Covid restrictions, others have lost businesses or suffered trauma through abuse or neglect, made easier through isolation. It’s heart-breaking. There was much heart break in the days after Jesus birth, as when the Wisemen felt directed to not bring King Herod the news of where they had found the baby, he sent soldiers to Bethlehem, prophesied as the place of His birth, to kill all of the male children two years and under. Bethlehem became a place of weeping and mourning.

What is God doing on the face of the earth today through our own sufferings and grief? Where do we find Him? Thirty three years after His birth this same Jesus gave His life for our sins upon a Cross. He has been all of ours ever since. We don’t have to physically seek after Him. But we do have to spiritually seek Him.

“If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God.” Col 3:1 KJV

As we enter a new year full of uncertainties we can know that if we follow Him, He will “guide us to His perfect Light.”

A starry night and some fun with a camera Ap.

---

 *We Three Kings, originally known as Three Kings of Orient was written by John Henry Hopkins Jr; published in 1857.

Gloria Guest enjoys many starry nights in Caron, Sk. where she also writes, blogs and studies editing.

Peace, Be Still - Gloria Guest

 

Every year around Christmas I choose either a word or a scripture verse that I sense God is wanting to speak over myself and my family in the coming year. Last year as 2019 was waning down, I felt no such inclination. I was a little burnt out from another trying year and just didn’t sense that God had a word or message for me. Or maybe, truthfully, I just didn’t care.

As many know, a huge bright spot in my life are my five grandchildren; four grand-daughters and one grandson. Since the twins, Sydney and Sarah, first entered my life at the age of five, when they moved out west with their momma who was marrying our son, they stole my heart, captured my love and brightened my days. In the next few years, three more little bright spots have come along and all are the lights of my life.

So I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that it would be through one of those little lights that God would provide me with my ‘word’ for 2020. We had been decorating the Christmas tree that day and I had been handing them the ornaments. When it was done, I noticed that one of the girls had found an old sign that I’d forgotten I had and placed it prominently in the middle of the tree. PEACE, it read.

And there was my word.

I knew it came from God straight through my grandchild’s innocent gesture and so I accepted it as my word for the year. Deep inside though I wished it had been something more exciting, more in line with my need to figure out where I fit in this life of mine that had seemed to stall. So I mulled over ‘why that word?' a little bit, feeling it was somewhat out of step.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. We all know what happened in early 2020. And suddenly, peace, which had never been my strong point, was in even shorter supply in my life. My husband and I both struggled to adjust and figure out what the new restrictions and eventual shut downs meant for us and our family. In a nut shell it meant: extra precautions and restrictions for my husband on the road as he was a semi driver and therefore an essential employee. He would come home mentally exhausted from a week’s worth of dealing with it.

I am one who has some medical vulnerabilities so it took some time to figure out just what risks I should take and which I shouldn’t and also put extra pressure on my husband since he was concerned about not bringing the virus home.

Of course, there were the restrictions of not being able to see those lovely little bright spots in our lives I mentioned earlier including a much anticipated visit from our son and his wife and our little grand-daughter from Ontario.

Summer lifted restrictions somewhat and at times it seemed as things were ‘sort of’ normal. Of course they weren’t though and suddenly we found ourselves in the dreaded state of my husband having to get tested for Covid. Way back in January I had dared to pray that God would give us some extra time together this year, but him staying in his semi and me in the house with only our back yard for visiting and shared meals, all six feet apart, was not exactly what I had ordered!! My birthday, in which I had hoped we would go somewhere interesting, ended up being held on our back deck. But I admit that with the addition of the Creators stars and some fun pictures we took and birthday cake in the dark it turned out kind of charming. Of course the great blessing was that he tested negative and was able to go back to work and that he still had work of any kind to do at all!

We are both a little wearier at the end of this year then when it all began last spring. The most crushing blow has come in the form of realizing we cannot travel to see our son in the military and his family, for Christmas and he deploys overseas for six months in January.  It’ll be a long wait to see him now and our daughter-in-law and that precious little two year old, as it’s already been over a year. It crushed my usual Christmas spirit some. I wasn’t even planning on putting up a tree.

But God, in all of His concern for every detail in my life has arranged an unexpected visit from my three grandchildren tomorrow (we are currently allowed five in a household in Sk) and guess who will be helping me decorate that tree?

Peace. It’s such a small little word. But so mighty. When I took the sign off my tree last Christmas I kept it up in my living room all year as a reminder of what God wanted to provide for me. Many times this year I’ve called on Jesus to step out and calm the storm.

“Peace be still,” He said.  (Mark 4:39 NIV)

And it is.

Dear Editor... Guest post by Gloria Guest

 *The following blog post addresses a sensitive subject on the issues of mental health that some readers may find triggering. 

On August 13, 2004, a letter to the editor that I wrote was printed in the Edmonton Journal entitled;

Sister’s suicide raised questions about state of mental health care.

I was surprised it was printed, but glad that a tiny sliver of attention had been granted my sister and our family, at last. I even hoped it would somehow make a difference and some other mentally ill person may be saved and their family would be spared the horrific ordeal we had just come through.

In brief words I described some of what we’d gone through over the last ten years, including the lack of communication between the professionals which eventually resulted in a court order not being carried out properly and her being released from hospital. I went on to describe the many other occasions where she was released from the psychiatrist unit despite the fact that they knew she was going home to the exact same circumstances and cycle. Our family was left, for the most part, out of the loop and patient privacy was protected to such an extent that no matter the mental state she was in, she was always made aware of the content of any conversations we had with her psychiatrists, causing a huge dilemma.

My letter went on to say that I knew it was most likely due to a lack of beds that she was released so prematurely and contained questions as to what could be done about that and what I considered the overly extreme protection of patient privacy rights, even when it was to the detriment of the patient. 

Of course, I had many more questions and issues that there was no room to bring up. There was so much more hidden between the lines of what my sister and our family had been through .My sister was chronically depressed and suicidal. She’d been through the emergency wards and psychiatric wards more times than we could remember. Often she was there when we didn’t know, as no one called. 

She eventually did take her life on a beautiful spring day in June of 2004. Although since January of that year, we’d seen a steady decline in her mental and physical well-being, we were all still taken off guard when it happened, as she had always managed a way back. Not this time. 

It’s a surreal feeling when you’ve tried to help someone for so long and held onto hope that maybe someday, something, would change and then just like that….it’s over. I didn’t know what to do with my shock, my anger, my grief or my left-over feelings that I had been her older sister and should have found a way to save her. Perhaps that was a part of writing the letter. All I knew then and know now is that there were more problems than solutions with the system we found ourselves in; that revolving door cycle I mentioned earlier. In learning more about what some of that was like for her later, we even discovered that the parting words of one of the nurses on the psychiatric ward when she left for the last time were, "See you next time Brenda.” 

Those words are a shocking, eye-opening insight into some of the issues. I find the statement beyond callous but most likely said by someone who in fact did believe what she was saying and was so a part of the system that she didn’t even question the effect of such a statement on my sister. Although I’m not saying that it caused her to take her life it had to have confirmed to her that she was caught in a vicious cycle. Stigma does in fact exist within the very mental health system that claims to help. 

After her death, our family also tried without success to gain access to her medical records. Without her spouse’s help that was impossible and her last psychiatrist did not even return a simple courtesy call when I asked if we could have one final family discussion with him about her. In their eyes, it was over and done. Case closed. That is also why I wrote the letter, naming the hospital of which she had so recently been a patient. To her family, this tragedy would never be over. Yes, we’ve moved on and lived our lives these past sixteen years without her and with all of our unanswered questions, and I personally have gone through many years of healing. I’m a far different and better person for going through it. Yet that doesn’t excuse how she or we were treated. Our family needed and deserved more. So do other families.

Over the years, in the midst of my own growth, I’ve tried to do my small part in sharing my voice, for both Brenda and myself and other families. I don’t feel I’ve been overly successful and often think of whether there is more I can do. Mostly I’ve blogged about her, in a far more personal way than I could share in a letter to an editor. I’ve written a few poems and shared one on one with people about various aspects of walking the hard road of being a survivor of someone who died by suicide or about childhood sexual abuse issues or the many other parts of the web that made up her story. It never really feels like enough on my part. So I look around to what others are doing and yes I do often feel encouraged; the start-up of Survivor of Suicide groups that were barely around when this happened to our family, grief counselling which is now far more understood. I’m encouraged by things I’ve personally learned through research and gifted counsellors such as the effects of early childhood abuse and how that leads to childhood complex trauma, a condition which is becoming far more understood by counsellors trained in therapy to deal with it. 

I’m not sure what my Letter to the Editor would say on the subject of mental health if I wrote one today, but it would still raise many questions and concerns. When I think about the stigma that still surrounds the words suicide, depression or mental illness, I’m not so encouraged. People still back away and you learn not to talk about it. I’ve spoken with enough people over the years to know that it’s not just me seeing this lack of growth. In fact only today I spoke with someone who told me that it’s really not worth asking for a mental health day at work considering the stigma attached. Yes I know people are talking about mental health more these days and it’s all over social media; I’m just not convinced that the stigma has had much of a dent put in it. Maybe someday…..things will be different.

For now, I will keep growing and healing and having my one on one conversations and writing my small blogs and poems. Perhaps with Gods leading I can find more ways to have that voice in a much needed area. I will keep talking about my beautiful sister who fought her battle so hard in the midst of great odds against her. And I will talk about the families left behind.  

The Canada Suicide Prevention Service (CSPS), by Crisis Services Canada enables callers anywhere in Canada to access crisis support by phone in French or English: toll-free 1-833-456-4566 Available 24/7 text 45645 (4 PM - 12 AM ET)