Seasons by Lorilee Guenter

 

Winter, spring, summer, fall. 

Which is your favourite season? I do not have an answer to that question. Each season has its draws and its drawbacks. But how can you like {season}? The chosen season to hate on is usually winter with its bone-chilling cold.

I like the crisp, clear days where the air sparkles with tiny, suspended drops of moisture. I enjoy brewing a mug of tea or hot chocolate, grabbing a blanket, and experiencing the quiet that cold seems to produce. I recognise the period of dormancy nature undergoes during winter. In time, unseen life will make its presence known.

I enjoy spring where each day brings something new as the white turns to muddy brown, then one by one plants push through until the whole palette is visible. Just as an artist places one brush stroke and then another, God wakes up the plants in order.

Summer shines with its long days of abundance. Some days it seems like you can see the plants grow as they stretch and bloom. I wander through my yard almost daily and delight in the changes.

Autumn brings crumbly leaves that I must step on to hear the satisfying crunch.  Trees take on vibrant hues as the flowers fade. A new coolness brings a reprieve from the heat. Vegetable soups simmer in place of summer salads.

While I have learned to enjoy all of the seasons, the lessons learned have not transferred to my writing life. Seasons of dormancy frustrate me. Intellectually I know this is a time of pondering. The ideas simmer beneath the surface waiting for the appropriate time to sprout. The seasons of abundance leave me scrambling as I try to bring my thoughts into order. I find myself longing for a slower pace. How quickly the frustration of the drought disappears. 

During summer, my writing slows. I am pulled outside by many activities. This year, I am trying to embrace the change. I trust the experiences will give rise to a new season of wordplay. It always does. And why wouldn't it? God has always been faithful not matter the season. He won't change now.

This summer I am attempting to embrace the season of rest in my creative life. I am choosing to let God refresh my soul. The writing continues at a slow pace. In between, I savour the tart juice of a raspberry just plucked from a plant. I pause to listen to the birdsong. I smile in gratitude at God's creation. Come fall I expect to pick up my pen with more frequency as God stirs the well of ideas and breathes life into new works. It is His way, for me at least.

I would like to look at my creative seasons as I do the created seasons. Each has a purpose. Each year I am able to reflect a little more and in doing so, I recognise God's hand in each moment. They are gifts from Him. In His hands, I flourish in a healthy, sustainable way.

Lorilee Guenter lives in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. She likes to experiment with plants, paint and words. Curiosity and creativity lead to many unexpected endeavors.

Following God's Trail by Lorilee Guenter

 I stood at the trail head looking at the map, a decision to be made. Is this the path I want to hike? The map gives a general guide to what the experience will be as lakes and rivers are marked. The geography  of the area gives more clues. 

Do you know you write well? The question invited a decision. The way forward is vague, however, like on the trail others have walked this way. There are many options as faith and words combine. One trail leads to poetry, another to novels. Some trails cross over and combine many types in a "mixed geography." As with the trail, I chose to take the first steps in honing my skills.

One recent memorable hike combined forest and rock of the Canadian Shield. From the top of the rock rise, you can look over the trees and survey the surroundings. The vistas are amazing. To get there involved climbing over boulders and around trees that clung to the rock, their roots anchored in cracks and crevasses. The beauty became evident before we reached the top, but if we stopped we would only have a taste of what could be. In my writing life and in life in general, I am often tempted to stop before the top. I settle for the taste instead of the abundant feast. That particular climb we made was not easy but it was worth it. As God leads me through the obstacles that threaten to stop me, I need to look forward to what He has to show me along the way.

There is no water at the top of the rocks. The sun beat down and reflected back. The beauty, while amazing, can only be enjoyed for a short time before we must follow the path in front of us to a place of refreshment, to the still waters and green pastures (Ps. 23). The climb back down has its own obstacles. It takes trust to keep going, to continue on to the next place, to the next project God has prepared. In the descent, it was evident how the anchoring rock remains under the soil and vegetation of the forest. We can remain anchored, and indeed need to remain anchored, to have the strength to continue.

On our hike we passed through forest before and after the climb. On a hot summer day the shade of the trees offered a welcome break from the intense rays of the sun. The trail through the forest was well marked by those who walked that way before, yet obstacles remain. Roots running across the path trip the unobservant. Side trails can lead you off course. Fallen trees block the way, although hiking buddies can help each other scramble over them.

I have never undertaken a hike alone. Nor do I live my faith and writing journey alone. We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses [Heb. 12:1], those who have and are walking with us. My faith and my writing are strengthened as I learn from others. They help me to throw off what holds me back as I learn from them and am encouraged by them.

Enjoying time on top of the rock

The first time we did that hike, we skirted around the overlook. We knew that there was more at the top than we had found but heat made us turn back. Before we left the area, we tried once more. As a result, we sat on the rock ridge and looked west over the forest and lake to see the beginning of the sunset, a gift of beauty. If I press on and don't skirt around the lookouts ahead of me, I have no doubt that gifts designed and given by God await.