Focus on Endurance and Encouragement - Guest Post by Kathleen Friesen

I’ve been reading Paul’s letter to the Romans and have loved Romans 15:13 for a long time, even using it as my tagline when signing books. But before reaching that familiar blessing, verse five leapt off the page.

May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had. (Romans 15:5 NIV)

That resonated clearly, even though I misunderstood part of the meaning. More about that in a moment. First, the source of endurance and encouragement? God Almighty. 

Then I checked Strong’s Concordance and got a surprise. The Greek word translated endurance in the NIV is huomone, meaning patience, endurance, or cheerful, hopeful waiting. 

Rats. I’d thought that if I could tap into this verse and get God’s endurance, I’d have unlimited stamina. Power to do what I wanted? Wondrous! My house would always be clean, I could run marathons, and writing a book would be a snap. Wouldn’t that be fantastic? But I was wrong.

Instead of power to accomplish my own goals, Father God grants me patience to endure my weakness. To-do lists are beneficial but can easily replace attentive listening to the Holy Spirit. And He does provide the strength to complete the tasks He wants me to do. I’m still learning that when I listen closely and do what’s important to Him, the rest doesn’t matter. God doesn’t run His finger along the coffee table to check for dust. He doesn’t expect me to lace up my runners and break the tape at the finish line. And writing? That’s where I really need His endurance and encouragement. 

Discouragement sets in too easily when a story stalls or refuses to begin. The last few years have been difficult, and the words I need to create scenes flit away like butterflies. When that happens, I desperately need to lean into God’s cheerful, hopeful waiting. Perseverance is important, but beating myself up for failing to make progress doesn’t work either. God knows my heart, and He will give me the words in His time.

Encouragement comes from God through His word and through His children. The Greek word here is paraklesis, which may sound familiar. When Jesus promised his disciples He would send them the Comforter, the Holy Spirit (John 14:16 KJV), the word for Comforter is parakletos, one who comes alongside. 

“And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever.”

Other translations render parakletos as Advocate, Helper or Counselor, which also fit with the word encouragement. 

There have been times when I’ve struggled physically and emotionally, and our Father prompted someone to send a message of hope. One time a note from a fellow Inscribe member came in the mail with exactly the loving thoughts I needed that day. Other times I received a text or phone call, each one a precious encouragement. And God’s word speaks to my heart, reassuring me that He loves me and is in control not only of my life but the whole world. What a blessing!

God extends endurance and encouragement to me, making it possible for me to turn and offer encouragement to others. When I see others struggling or even sense they may be, He gives me the courage to reach out. 

This is an ongoing lesson, because although I know better, my tendency is to “turtle” and hide away from everyone. The Holy Spirit draws me out of my shell, encouraging me to take small steps of love. Send a text. Offer to pray. Give a hug. Write a positive review. And guess what? When I give the blessing of encouragement, it comes back multiplied, every single time – God’s amazing economy at work.

Kathleen Friesen loves writing stories of faith that overcomes. Through her characters, she invites readers to risk faith, dare to love, and trust God with the consequences. After several years in the Okanagan valley, she and her husband have re-settled in Martensville, Saskatchewan with their rescue dog Lacy.

EMPTY IT OUT! A Lego-Inspired Guest Writing Post by Allison Lynn

 

One of my favourite childhood pastimes was an afternoon of building Legos. We had piles and piles of the colourful plastic blocks. Maybe they were originally packaged to build a house or a car, but they very quickly ended up in the shiny red storage box. There was no attempt to sort by colour or size. They all lived happily in a big, complicated mess. 

So, there was only one way to start an afternoon of Lego magic: empty the box!

We lifted it as high as our little arms could stretch and dumped the whole thing out all over the floor. Colourful pieces scattered across the carpet, followed by Mom’s strict warning to eventually pick them all up. (No one wants to step on a lost Lego!)

Seeing those Legos spread across the floor was all we needed to spark our imaginations! 

Spread before us was a rich and varied palette of colours, shapes, and sizes. Flat green platforms provided the perfect base for a country cottage with flowery gardens. Long rectangular pieces anchored the strong base of a looming tower. Tiny two-bump pieces formed ornate battlements along the top of a castle. Black rubber wheels turned any creation - car or otherwise - into a racing vehicle. And, of course, heads, hands, and feet were mixed and matched to build families, rock bands, parades, and teams of superheroes.

But it all started by emptying the box. 

Laying out our tools and playing in the mess, allowing our creativity space to grow. 

You know, writing is no different. 

Sometimes, it’s helpful to organize everything in our heads. I’m a planner by nature, so this makes sense to me.

But sometimes, the plan doesn’t form on its own. Sometimes, it’s just a bunch of random thoughts or words, bouncing around in our imaginations.

And in those moments, we need to empty our ideas out like a messy box of Legos!

Make a list of those random words. Or maybe, don’t make a list! Just write them all over the page at various angles and spacings. Allow each word or idea to float on its own, or bounce against another. See what new creations might come from bringing words together or pulling them apart. 

Write down those odd sentences. Maybe they’re not connected, but maybe they are? Won’t it be neat to see them on the page together and look for synchronicity? Dictate them as they formed in your head, and then, write them out again, switching up a few keywords. Maybe put them in a different tense, or switch up the pronouns. How many variations can you find with just those specific words?

And that unformed draft that keeps bouncing around inside you? Empty that out, too. Just start writing. Get out what you can in this moment. If it’s bumpy or nonsensical, that’s okay. Save it, giving yourself the freedom to delete it later. Don’t worry if it doesn’t make sense now. You can sort it out when you edit and rewrite.

So, I encourage you to empty it all out today! Grab your laptop, or your pen and paper, and just get those words, ideas, and thoughts down on the page. Allow yourself to play in the mess, and see what sparks … 

And if you need a little extra inspiration, pick up a box of Legos, dump them on the carpet, and really have some fun!

Singer, songwriter and worship leader, Allison Lynn, is drawn to the power of story to grow hearts and communities. Allison and her husband, Gerald Flemming, just released their 9th Infinitely More album - The Sum of All Love. Publications include The Anglican Journal (national newspaper), Taste and See (journal), Love STC (Niagara Tourism Blog), and four stories with Chicken Soup for the Soul. www.InfinitelyMore.ca

Where Are You? Guest post by Brenda Wood

Where are You, dear InScribe writers? I'm told this blog doesn't have a full roster of writers this year, and I'm wondering... Why? 

If this sounds like a chastisement, take note…it is. (But a kind one, I hope.) 

May I suggest that some folks are just along for the ride? They enjoy all that Inscribe provides but they do not care to contribute anything toward its success!

Did they decide to follow the latest hullabaloo about making money somewhere else? Did they hear that blogging wasn’t where the action is? Or that writers shouldn’t scribble unless someone pays them for it? Do you know where you make money? You make money by writing and yes, often writing for free.

Is it possible that instead of writing, some members cluster in groups to publish titles online or post pictures with the herd? I’ve followed this trail too many times and it is a big waste.  We are called to WRITE!

I want to laugh out loud every time someone finds out that I’m an author. The first question is, “How did you get published?” I ask them what they’ve written and the answer is consistent. “Well, I haven’t written anything yet but I need to know how to get published!”

Publish your heart out on sites that pay you a pittance for your words. Oh yes, a paltry sum on a page so crowded with writers that no one reads your stuff! Buy books that tell you how to sell. (Hint) You’d be better off writing one!

Do you know how I became a published author? I got there by writing anywhere and everywhere. Google 'Brenda J Wood' and you’ll find pages of my publications. I have a huge online presence and most of it came from free writing.

God called us to be writers. Do we honestly take every opportunity to do that? Or are we waiting for the big moment when we're 'discovered'? Well folks, in order to be discovered, people have to read your words. So... take a chance and write for InScribe!

Brenda J Wood - 

Author, speaker and Hopestreamradio.com contributor, Brenda J Wood has been an author and motivational speaker for more years than she cares to admit. She is known for her common sense wisdom, sense of humour and quirky comments. She calls herself the ‘ABC girl’ because she’s survived and written about the ‘ABC’s of abuse, bulimia, cancer, death, entertainment, food, gluttony and humour. Since she’s written books on each of these topics, she hopes the ‘E’ word of her next book stands for something like Energy or Entertainment, but definitely not Exams or Epsom salts!

A few of her favourite things include grandchildren, guest speaking, writing, sewing, a warm fire, a good book, and pounding the pavement on early morning walks. Brenda has authored many books but is very excited about the upcoming - My Affair with Cancer, a fundraiser for the Georgian Bay Cancer Centre in Penetanguishene. Her other books include:

The Food Lover’s Devotional, food for both body and soul

Gentle Humour with Jesus, devotions for the light-hearted

The Pregnant Pause of Grief, the first trimester of widowhood

Meeting Myself, snippets from a binging and bulging mind.

Heartfelt Devotionals, 366 devotions for common sense living.

God, Gluttony & You

Brenda’s Children’s books include:

The Big Red Chair –a book for grieving children

Mother Peebles Problem Pebbles

The Plate Family Dishes Up

Brenda J Wood, author and motivational speaker
http://heartfeltdevotionals.com
http://www.twitter.com/size10hopefil
https://www.facebook.com/brendawoodspeaker

In the Shadow of a Bookshelf by Brenda Leyland

"Have you ever picked up a book on writing, exhilarated

to discover that the author has written just what you need to

stimulate and encourage you? Philip Yancey called these

writing masters "shadow mentors" who urge us to improve our

writing style, our thinking, and our vision."

SANDI SOMERS

As writers, we know just how often we need encouragement to bolster our crumbling nerve. Especially in those early days when we are still so unsure of ourselves, unsure of our talent—wondering if we even have any—and whether we indeed have a call on our lives and, therefore, a right to write. And, yes, Sandi, how often I have picked up a book to discover the perfect something I needed to stimulate and encourage me. Here, in this longish blog post, I have gathered six authors who have been writing mentors to me. I want to give a glimpse of how the writings of these good people have encouraged and inspired me, albeit in the shadow of a bookshelf, throughout my writing journey. There are so many more I could include.

 

"Read all the good books you can..."

C.S. LEWIS

Long before I dreamed of being a writer, I read C.S. Lewis. I was drawn to this man's gentle approach to life. I was drawn to the fact that he lived in Oxford, was a scholar, a Christian believer, and an author. I read everything I could find of his work, including his volumes of published letters. My now vintage commonplace notebook is filled with words of wisdom from this man, including the advice he freely gave aspiring writers who wrote to him. One such word stood out for me: read all the good books you can. It was a seed planted and amazingly watered over the years by many other successful authors advising young writers to read, read, read. I embraced this advice wholeheartedly; my path was set.

"Don't be led away by those howls of realism. Remember—pine woods

are just as real as pigsties and a darn sight pleasanter to be in."

L.M. MONTGOMERY

There are so many things I could share here about what I have learned from L.M. Montgomery. Looking back, she was a shining star—a mentor from afar—for most of my life. She taught me to appreciate the joy and beauty of the world around me, regardless of happy or unhappy circumstances. I shall always remember sitting with pen and paper in hand, trying to capture something of the twilight beauty of a long-ago summer evening. I had hoped to emulate Ms. Montgomery, for by then I was captivated with her ability to bring something of the beautiful to everything she wrote.

We live in an upside-down world where beauty and goodness are often forgotten, hidden behind misery and meanness, tragedy and trauma. Some people say, well that's life, that's the reality. Of course, we know sadness, cruelty and ugliness are real, but I have so often pondered why these should carry more weight than the reality of love and beauty and kindness. Mr. Carpenter, Emily's schoolteacher in one of the Emily novels by Ms Montgomery, entreated the aspiring authoress not to heed her critics but to press forward and continue to write from that place of beauty she saw in her own mind. He told Emily, "Don't be led away by those howls of realism. Remember—pine woods are just as real as pigsties and a darn sight pleasanter to be in."

The essence of those words became a touchstone. No matter what was going on in the world around me, Mr. Carpenter's wise words, through the pen of L.M. Montgomery, fixed my focus on how I wanted to write. You see, they matched those lines I love in Philippians: whatever is lovely and of good report, think (write) on these things.

"Today, in a world where we pride ourselves on our efficiency

and practicality, there is still precious time to cherish quality

and savor the splendor and charm of the more enduring things

in our lives—a return to loveliness, if you will."

THE EDITORS, VICTORIA, PREMIER ISSUE, 1987 

 

I cannot write about shadow mentors and not mention, not so much an author, but rather an influence that has also overshadowed everything I have ever written: the original Victoria magazine under the direction of former editor Nancy Lindemeyer. From the premier issue in 1987, I knew my heart found what it had been longing for in my young life. Here was a magazine that spoke to the softer, gentler side of life. It celebrated the creativity of women who followed their dreams. It recognized the intrinsic value of and need for beauty in our lives.

Two lovely blog followers recently contacted me to say that my style of writing happily reminds them of the Victoria magazine. Seriously? Oh, my goodness! "Reading your blog this morning made me realize that you have become my gentle moments of Victoria magazine. I spent many cherished moments with Victoria magazine and have missed the peace and grace it brought. I'm grateful to have you in my life to take me back to those treasured memories." I am in awe and deep gratitude. In the early days of my writing, I had so longed to be able to make words sing beautifully—just like the women who wrote those lovely articles in the magazine—never ever dreaming I might one day find some measure of success. I am so grateful to the Lord for the privilege to follow my heart in this way.

"As humans, we all have the right to make art.

We all have the right to write."

JULIA CAMERON

My husband's aunt introduced me years ago to The Right to Write by Julia Cameron. A godsend. What a stroke of genius to have those words right in the title. You see, for whatever odd reason, I needed permission to write; I needed to know that I had a right to write. That it wasn’t just for folks who knew they were destined to write since they were five years old....being the late bloomer that I am. I loved Julia’s words of affirmation when she said that as humans, we all have the right to make art. We all have the right to write. And with those words ringing in my ear, I had the courage to step out into my destiny.

This book introduced me to Julia's personal writing tools, tools I found helpful in my early writing days: Morning Pages (three pages of stream of consciousness writing first thing every morning); Narrative Time Line (writing out the story of your life in five-year intervals, from birth to present); and Artist Dates (making dates with yourself as a way to devote time to your creative self, such as walking in nature or visiting an art supply store or museum—anything you find creative and enjoyable.)

"At last I understood that writing was this: an impulse to share

with other people a feeling or truth that I myself had."

BRENDA UELAND

I knew from the outset that Brenda Ueland’s book If You Want to Write was another godsend to me. It came into my life in 2008, around the same time I started blogging, and it was a book I would reach for over and over. Because Ms. Ueland was so confident in her belief that "everyone is talented, original and has something important to say", I felt compelled to believe her for myself.

Brenda Ueland realized writing was, for her, an impulse to share with other people a feeling or truth that she herself had experienced. She used a little story about Vincent Van Gogh to illustrate, and it resonated with me. As a young man in his early twenties, Van Gogh was

"in London studying to be a clergyman. He had no thought of being an artist at all. He sat in his cheap little room writing a letter to his younger brother in Holland, whom he loved very much. He looked out his window at a watery twilight, a thin lamp post, a star, and he said in his letter something like this: It is so beautiful I must show you how it looks. And then on his cheap ruled notepaper, he made the most beautiful, tender, little drawing of it."

Like the artist himself, I yearned to share the beauty I experienced with those around me. While the artist took up his brush to express what he saw, I took up my pen. And so I write to inspire, to encourage, and give joy. All with the hopeful desire that my readers will look around, see the beauty, and learn to live with a measure of joy because they, too, have caught glimpses of heaven in unexpected places here on earth.

 

 

"If God has given you a dream, you'd better get cracking

because He wants you to use it. That's why He gives

them to us in the first place."

JAN KARON

I cannot close without mentioning Jan Karon, creator of the beloved Mitford novels. Years ago, I found her photo online and downloaded it to my desktop. Whenever I turned on my computer, there she'd be smiling at me, this woman who dared to believe a dream God had given her. 

Not only have I delighted in her novels, but I have taken courage from her own story of how she, at age 50, left a successful career in advertising and moved to a small town, so she could finally be a novelist. Not that I left a job to take up writing, not that I had any dream to write a novel, but I felt something of her courage as she stepped out later in life, trusting God, to follow her dream. Today we see Jan as a successful New York Times bestselling novelist, but her writing journey to get there had many discouraging setbacks. For two years, she struggled to find a suitable idea for a novel, and then when she had that breakthrough at last, it took a couple years to find a willing publisher. Through it all, she'd learned to lean into God, trusting that He was there in the midst. Seeing this beautiful author on my screen every morning during those early years of my own writing journey helped me to keep the faith, just as she had done.

* * *

I am grateful for these authors, just a few who have been a part of my personal mentoring team on a bookshelf, ever reminding me that I am not alone, cheering me on, offering their expertise, and always inviting me to join them in sharing the gift of beautiful words with our world.

Photo credit for top: Image by 9883074 from Pixabay

Photo credits for C.S. Lewis, L.M. Montgomery, Jan Karon: Unknown

A long-time InScribe member, Brenda writes from her home in Alberta, Canada. She works away on her memoir projects and shares her love of the beautiful in everyday life with readers at It's A Beautiful Life and on Facebook. 

A God Moment in a Sunrise by Brenda Leyland

"God speaks in ways

that are personal to us." 

JENNIFER LECLAIRE

Some of the sweetest, most thrilling, poignant moments of my life have been when God has spoken directly to me—through a verse or song, a persistent inner nudge, a definite word for something I needed in a situation. My life narrative for the most part has not been one of high drama, so I have rarely received high drama messages from Him—although my friend and I years ago received a simultaneous inner warning late one night at a city bus stop that we were in eminent danger and needed to 'get out of here now', which we heeded without question.

The event that came to mind to share here does not involve anything as dramatic as a warning or life changing direction. Nonetheless it was unforgettable for me. It was early one morning in August many years ago. I had been asleep but felt myself struggling to wake up. I could hear someone calling my name. Fully awake I realized the voice had been in my dream; everyone else in the house was still asleep. The voice didn't seem urgent, but it had been clear and persistent. Had I been awakened for a particular reason? I was ready....

I slipped out of bed and glanced through the window. Oh my, the whole westerly sky was alive with bright pink clouds against purple grey ones. Grabbing my camera, I rushed outside where it was even more spectacular.

No matter which way I turned, the heavens were ablaze with colour. Dazzled, I stood agape as mottled clouds transformed into a sky-size canvas awash in shades of salmon and coral, hints of grape at the horizon.

It started to sprinkle and on top of that vast canvas a rainbow began to emerge. I kept thinking how cool is this and found myself laughing. Lord, this is you, isn't it? You woke me up so we could share this splendid sunrise together.

I twirled round and round to catch it all; I didn't want to miss a thing. It was breathtaking. And then towards the south, in front of my eyes, not just one but two full rainbows were arcing the sky. 

It all lasted about 20 minutes, and then grey clouds blanketed the sky. Only a hint of apricot remained where the sun peeked through. Anyone looking from their window at that stage might have said, oh there's the sun, how nice, but we knew they'd missed the real show. Most poignant for me came the thought, what if I had not heard or heeded the voice calling my name? I, too, could have snoozed right past one of the most enthralling sunrises of my life.

There was no extenuating circumstance where I needed Him to show himself to me in such an unforgettable way. I guess I always thought dreams from God were for important business like warnings or definite instructions....not for getting up to watch a sunrise. Except, in a love relationship Lovers are always looking for ways to delight the Loved One. The Lord certainly knows how I delight in the beauty and wonder of his creation. In the great scheme of things, perhaps this wasn't one of life's weightiest moments, but it certainly was one of the most enchanting I have ever shared with Him. And every time I think of it, I feel exquisitely loved by Him.

© Photo credits: Brenda C Leyland

(Photos in original state, not edited in any way)

A long-time InScribe member, Brenda writes from her home in Alberta, Canada. She shares her love of the beautiful in everyday life with readers on her blog at It's A Beautiful Life and Facebook.

One Late Bloomer Finds Her Season by Brenda Leyland

“Everything on earth has its own time and its own season.”

ECCLESIASTES 3:1

I must tell you about the bright yellow rudbeckia flowers, familiarly known as black-eyed-susans, that grow in my garden every summer. This perennial plant pokes its green shoots through sun-warmed soil early in spring, but unlike tulips or daffodils, who waste no time sending out their flower buds, the rudbeckia unhurriedly spends spring and summer developing sturdy stems and masses of glossy leaves, with nary a blossom in sight. Then in early August -- when peonies, lilacs and Siberian irises are history -- the rudbeckia takes centre stage and bursts into flamboyant blossom and continues to bloom until the frost comes.

Like my Rudbeckia, I am a late-in-the-season bloomer. Many of my friends and classmates after high school and college sprinted out of life's starting gate and got on with their lives -- finding mates, getting married, having kids, being homemakers, starting careers. It was my most cherished dream too, but I was in my forties before I met the wonderful man I would marry. And I was well past the fresh flush of youth before I ever dreamed of writing or attending my first writers' event. Beginning to recognize I was forever composing sentences and opening paragraphs in my mind, I finally started writing them down on paper.

“You don’t have to remind a flower
when its time to bloom is near;
it has been preparing for it all of its life.”
MATSHONA DHLIWAYO

Some people know they want to write from young and so they prepare as they grow. For me, because the desire dawned much later, God knew I needed time to acclimatize to the idea, and so my season of preparation matured gently through the summer of my life. I explored writing genres, developed writing skills, took classes, wrote articles, created newsletters, and started blogging. It all became part of figuring out what was in my heart to share with others.

Then came my sixtieth birthday. Although astonished to have arrived at this decade so soon, I did not find myself lamenting my youth long spent. Rather, I embraced turning sixty in a way that completely surprised me. It felt as if I'd been waiting for this season all my life, and I reached out to receive it like a gift. The time had come. In floral lingo, it was my season to bloom.

From this vantage point, I looked back and saw two things I'd never seen before. One, because I preferred writing non-fiction and mostly from my own material, I saw that I had had to live my longish life before I was ready to write about it. Second, I needed the time and distance to see how God’s faithfulness, loving guidance, and grace had umbrella-ed everything that had ever happened to me. I could see that even my day job in the Alberta Legislature for more than twenty years had been part of the preparation, developing the writing skills I needed on the job that would prove useful down the road.

One phrase overshadowed my thoughts during that milestone birthday. "Gather the memories." I began curating my personal history, organizing the motley collection of photos, journals, yearbooks, scrapbooks, and various touchstone keepsakes. As long forgotten memories floated up, I wrote them down. I created an autobiographical timeline as a reference which included recording many of the beautiful, life-changing God moments I had experienced over the years. And that Fall, I self-published a magazine through Blurb that housed my simple but cherished childhood Christmas memories. Talk about being totally amazed when strangers wrote to say they loved the stories and please would I publish more. Music to any writer's ears.

As a girl, I watched my farming parents working into the late hours when the days were ripe to harvest grain and garden provender. Less needful things had to be set aside. There was no time to lose. The frost was coming. That's how I feel about the season I'm in. There is an increasing sense of urgency. I'm not getting any younger and the days do fly by. Other authors reach sixty and already have a legacy of writings to their credit, but much of my work still lies ahead. I embrace being a writer in this late summer-early autumn season of my life. Filled with gratitude and joy, my heart sings and I do feel His pleasure when I write.

Oh Lord, keep me near to your heart, let these words be written with Love. Quicken my body and sharpen my mind. Take these 'breathings of my heart' to bless others, in this generation and maybe even in future ones.

A long-time InScribe member, Brenda Leyland writes from her home in Alberta, Canada. She has been a columnist and contributor in the FellowScript magazine. She sees herself as a curator of memories and works away at various memoir projects. Inspired by beauty, Brenda also blogs at It's A Beautiful Life and posts on Facebook.

Beautiful Words in Troubled Times by Brenda Leyland

"In every heart there is a secret nerve that

answers to the vibrations of beauty."

CHRISTOPHER MORLEY

I have come to see, like Mr. Morley, that people everywhere, young or old, are born to recognize and appreciate beauty in the world around them. I shall never forget the day when, as a six-year-old on the school playground, I stood in mouth-gaping wonder to watch the season's first snowflakes tumble from a grey November sky. From that day, as I grew and the years passed, my love for all things beautiful only increased … whether it was found in a rainbow forming after a summer storm, watching a beloved face relax in sleep or hearing George Beverly Shea's voice singing I'd Rather Have Jesus. I also found pleasure in spoons rattling against china teacups, lace curtains billowing on summer days, robins warbling from treetops, Monet's Water Lilies painting, and reading exquisitely written books with well-turned phrases and surprise endings that satisfied every nerve ending in my body.

Then, like Vincent Van Gogh, I began yearning for ways to share the beauty I experienced with those around me, and while the artist took up his brush to express what he saw, I took up my pen. I was happiest when I could write about living a beautiful life, describing the wondrous joys I discovered in God's world around me.

A person doesn't have to live long on this planet to recognize we live in an upside-down world where beauty is often forgotten, hidden behind misery and meanness, tragedy and trauma. Some people say, well that's life, that's the reality. I used to ponder why that should carry more weight in being 'real' than beauty and kindness. Which is probably why I have never forgotten the line I read eons ago in one of the Emily novels by L.M. Montgomery. Mr. Carpenter, Emily's schoolteacher, entreated her not to heed her critics but to press forward and continue to write from that place of beauty she saw in her own mind. He told her, "Don't be led away by those howls of realism. Remember -- pine woods are just as real as pigsties and a darn sight pleasanter to be in."

The essence of these words became a guiding star for my writing. I decided then and there, since pine woods (and roses and kindness) were as real as pigpens, and much nicer, I would not let the ugly, mean stuff have the stronger voice in my own life. When I started writing, I kept Mr. Carpenter's advice in mind as I thought about what would become my themes and possible topics for exploring. I was delighted to learn that his sentiment also fit perfectly with those gracious words in Philippians: whatever is lovely and of good report, think (write) on these things.

After much soul searching, I came to recognize that, as writers, we each must find our own place from which to write. I began to see more and more that my heart pulsed with the desire to write about life's beautiful moments as a way to combat the hard, dark ones. We are told heaven is a beautiful place, and so I aspire to give readers their own glimpses of heaven's hope, joy and beauty for the times when life's issues press in and overwhelm. For goodness and kindness still prevails, and people still take joy in small moments like sharing cups of tea with friends and watching roses bloom and reading moving lines of poetry. It helps balance things.

August marks the eleventh anniversary since I published my first post on It's A Beautiful Life. When I started the blog, I knew its theme and focus would be about encouraging readers to find ways to live life more beautifully, but over the past decade our world has changed a lot. Because of changes in technology, we now have the world's woes at our fingertips. I have asked myself on many occasions, especially recently, do I need to change the way I write? Should my writing reflect more of the societal and cultural concerns many of us share; should I write to address these troubling issues instead?

Recently I received a comment from a quiet reader of my blog posts. She wrote, "Since deleting my own blog last year and trying to spend less time online, I haven't been by as much as I have in the past, but today, I was just longing for a glimpse of a beautiful blog, and yours immediately came to mind. … Truly, your little home on the internet adds beauty and joy to my days."

That, my friends, puts the thumb on the pulse of my reason for writing about beautiful things. Sometimes readers just need a moment of respite, something that feels normal in an abnormal time, something that buoys the spirits and provides a hint of beauty so that, heartened, they can return to the fray and carry on, at least for the moment.

I believe the words John O'Donohue, author of Beauty: The Invisible Embrace, wrote when he said, "To participate in beauty is to come into the presence of the Holy." Every time I search my heart and ask the Lord about it, I get the same settled peace to stay the course and continue writing beautiful life pieces. Because, in terrifying times we need beauty and beautiful words to keep us from giving up in despair. So, I keep watching for glimpses of heaven in unexpected places. I keep delighting in the simple life pleasures God gives every single day. And, I keep writing about them as little gifts for others.

A long-time InScribe member, Brenda Leyland writes from her home in Alberta, Canada. She has been a columnist and contributor in the FellowScript magazine. Inspired by beauty, Brenda takes great joy in blogging at It's A Beautiful Life and posting on Facebook. She also sees herself as a curator of memories and works away at various memoir projects.

Longing At Christmas by Brenda Leyland

photo: pixabay.com

YOU KNOW WHAT I REALLY WANT
FOR CHRISTMAS?

I want to feel the magic of being five or six or seven again
When everything about the season is new and fresh and thrilling.

When I felt the tremble of expectancy as parcels
mysteriously appeared under the Christmas tree;
And the wait of three more sleeps grew so excruciating
I felt my body would burst from its skin.

When the HUSH of soft, holy moments hugged me like a blanket
As I sat mesmerized by tinsel glimmer and tree lights;
And the sweet, sweet strains of Away in a Manger
filled me with shivery delight.

Yes, I long to feel again the secret yearnings of a child's heart
for the inexpressible and the MIRACULOUS. . .

 As I wait in Wonder for the Christ Child.


* * *

Wishing you a very Happy Christmas!

Acknowledgement:

This piece was inspired by something I read in Robert Fulghum's

book, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.

A long-time InScribe member, Brenda Leyland writes from her home in Sherwood Park, Alberta. She writes at It's A Beautiful Life and is also on Facebook. 

Writing Is Like Painting Your House by Brenda Leyland

photo: pixabay.com

The writing process is much like painting a room in your house.

Imagine it’s a warm Spring morning. You throw open the windows and suddenly feel inspired to spruce up the bathroom with a fresh coat of paint. You rush out to Home Hardware for paint and rollers, then whip home to take down window coverings, and clear the counter tops and towel racks. A glance at the clock, gasp, reminds you the morning is slipping away. There’s still green painter tape to put around the tub, shower edges, and 'squeeze past the toilet' to tape whatever's back there that you don't want paint on. A quick search for the screwdriver, and light switch plates and baseboards are off. Finally, you think you're ready, except the myriad nail holes in the wall blink at you – they all need filling and sanding. Feeling the pressure of time on your neck, rather than searching for the tube of filler, you quickly pass a bar of soap over those tiny holes and hope for the best.

Your energy level for this 'quick' paint job has disappeared with the day. It’s late afternoon, and you haven't painted a single brushstroke. Earlier you felt rushed; now you're feeling irritated, too. That room would be all fresh and sparkling with its fresh coat of paint if there weren't so many preparations to do first. What started out as a one day job was now spilling into two.

* * *

Well, that certainly is a perfect picture of my writing life. When I start a new project, I long to get on with the actual writing of the piece. Invariably, there are other tasks I first need to do in preparation: developing an outline; doing the research; locating suitable quotations; considering my who, what, when, and why; filling in the nail holes of fuzzy thinking with a clearly thought out theme statement. And, I mustn't forget about the primer either. That dull but necessary underpinning coat--aka the first draft in a writer's world--upon which every forthcoming brush or keystroke will depend as layers of colour, richness, and depth are added.

One day, some years ago now, it finally clicked for me that the prep work makes the actual task of writing, or painting, flow smoother and with fewer mistakes. I shouldn't rush through the planning stage to get to what I consider the good stuff. It's not a waste of time. It turns out the time-consuming task of taping edges in the bathroom definitely ensures fewer paint slips to clean up later. And, doing a little homework before starting that first draft will prevent me from painting myself into a corner later.

I also came to realize that the preparation often takes as long as the actual writing of the essay or painting of the room. It's that way for most jobs -- when a person sews a jacket, plants a rosebush, makes a fruitcake, and, yes, even writes a simple post like this one. The prep takes time. Abraham Lincoln certainly recognized the principle when he said, 'Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four hours sharpening the axe'.

Recognizing these intruding front-end tasks are an integral part of the whole project, I quit being annoyed when they seemed to be stealing my writing time. They are not. Sharpening the axe is part of chopping down the tree. Taping the fixtures and edges is part of painting the room. Gathering the documentation and hammering out an outline is part of writing the book. This preamble work has become a more pleasurable part of the process for me since I now make room for it in my schedule and no longer have to hurry or squeeze it in. I am more patient because I know the time will come when I can paint word pictures to my heart's content, dotting my i’s and crossing my t’s, and then finally typing ‘The End’ in a flourish of bold, clean strokes.

I'm so grateful for the valuable writing lesson I learned while painting my bathroom one fine Spring mor--, afterno--, weekend.

Brenda writes from her home in Sherwood Park, Alberta. When she's not writing, she might be gardening or painting another room in her home. She blogs at It's A Beautiful Life.

Sea Change: Moving in God's Rhythms - Karma Pratt

My prayer life is becoming an integral part of who I am. Indeed, I am learning that movement without prayer results in missteps more often than not, and a need to correct course time and again. 

Over the past year God has been guiding my steps through some challenging places. He has been showing me what needs to change in order to follow Him in all circumstances. Two words stand out in the midst of this journey: surrender and sacrifice. Surrender, because a life lived fully and well can only be lived under the full sovereign reign of the King of Kings. And sacrifice, because there is always a cost associated with following Jesus. 

There has been some rocky terrain and turbulent waters over the past year. Even my writing went dormant as my heart searched for answers in the depths. The only writing that remained were prayers scribbled in journals and on napkins. Scraps of paper searching for clarity, glimpses of the promises God has for my life, clues as to how He wants to re-shape it. 

Over the past year I found myself letting go of everything I thought I knew about myself. Every role and title I have ever proudly worn has been called into question. Business woman, professional communicator, entrepreneur, creative visionary - these have all gone by the wayside to one degree or another. Every way I have ever attempted to identify myself; every direction I thought I needed to go in order to build a life - all has been stripped down and pulled away. I found myself questioning why: Why such drastic changes? Why do I have to leave it all behind? God answered (He always does if you listen long enough). "Stop trying to shape yourself. Let Me mould you". In a word: Surrender. 

As our family's circumstances changed, I found myself stepping into new and different roles in this season. Some are not unfamiliar, but they have taken on new significance. I have embraced different titles: Wife, Mom, Home Schooler, Teacher. I have traded my version of traditional - full time work outside the home - for a much more traditional role (ironically). I even helped pack our bags and move our family to a new community based on the direction my husband and I felt God was calling us to go. The only thing I have done consistently amidst all these changes has been to pray. 

I have learned that God often gives glimpses of His plan and one of my jobs is to wait patiently on His timing. Sometimes the "what" does not immediately occur. I have learned to pray for guidance about the "when". They say timing is everything, and learning to trust God's timing is another exercise in surrender and sacrifice. 

It can be difficult to know what to call yourself when God continues to strip away everything you thought you knew about who you are (or were). So I cling to the promises. I call myself beloved. I make room in the midst of the sea change: room for grace to unfold, for mercy to wash over me like so many waves in the storm, for love to change this heart. I pray for peace, leave thanksgiving offerings at the foot of the cross, leave everything at the foot of the cross, seek God's face, and I just keep praying. 

The transformation continues. Physically, we are in a new location. My once-dormant writing desk has taken up new residence at its place beneath the window sill. It faces north, out into the back yard, and I can see the seasons change even as I continue to transform from the inside out. I still do not know the "how" of this unfolding plan, but I am grateful for the opportunity to participate in it. This life with its ever-changing trajectory, this sea change, is finding its way into my heart, mind, soul and spirit. I started writing again last month, something beyond prayers and petitions. It felt good. I know God has called me to this little writing desk. I know He wants me to practice this craft, and so I will continue. I am settling into the unforced rhythms of grace. I find the storms are far less turbulent here.

____

Karma writes from the golden house in Northeastern BC. You can connect with her online at redraincoatcreations.com