The Power of Kindness by Steph Beth Nickel

 

Many of us underestimate the power of kindness.

Recently, I underwent a procedure to remove scar tissue from my eye, and I rediscovered just how powerful kindness can be.

From my incredibly attentive husband who waited on me hand and foot for the three days I kept my eyes closed to the texts sent by caring friends before and after the procedure.

Do you know someone who may benefit from a simple act of kindness today?

Someone who has a chronic physical condition?

Someone who is lonely?

Someone who is depressed or even "in a funk"?

A friend and I were discussing how we would like to do more for those who often "suffer in silence."

You may not have large pockets of time in your schedule, but you are a writer.

You may never know how much it could mean to someone to receive a card in the mail, an I'm-thinking-of-you-text, or even a humorous meme to brighten their day.

At our monthly prayer meeting, I've discovered that attendees rarely, if ever, share personal prayer requests. 

This got me to thinking, "Why is this?"

Are we too proud?

Do we think others' situations are more serious than our own?

Do we not want to draw attention to ourselves?

As Christians, we are called to pray for one another.

If you are struggling physically, are lonely, or are dealing with emotional challenges, I encourage you to reach out to at least a few trusted family members and/or friends.

You just might be surprised at how their small acts of kindness can lift you up.

And if you know of someone who could use an encouraging word today, don't underestimate the power of kindness that's at your fingertips.

Intimacy in Words by Alan Anderson

 

Writers and readers of our InScribe blog will notice how much we love words. This writer will go as far as to say there is an intimacy we enjoy with words. We indulge in a closeness, a passion, a deep affection, for words. Words are our loyal companions as we carry out our calling as writers.

 

Here are a few Scripture verses for writers and readers to meditate on to nurture intimate words.

 

Colossians 4:6 “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.”

John 15:3 “You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you.”

Matthew 12:35 “A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in him, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in him.”

 

A Personal Example of Intimacy in Words

 

Here is an excerpt from my May 22, 2021, InScribe Blog Post to offer an example of intimacy in a use of words. The context of the words relates to my experience with depression in 1997.

 

The fog came down first and gripped me. Before long, the grey of the fog led me into the black of a tunnel. I am trapped. No, I am lost.

 

I look at my words, and they look at me. None of us speak. There is no urgency, only stillness. I smile, and my words wink at me. A thought keeps going through my mind. “What do I do? Where do I take these words and care for them?” Suddenly they move. My words sit beside me, then embrace me. Their embrace sweeps over my thoughts and emotions. I realize my words care for me. They listened to me in the stillness. My mind clears and I know what to do. I too must listen. My words came to me unhurried, quiet, gentle, and changed me.

 

 

Include Intimacy in Whatever Genre

These days the focus of my writing is poetry. The points to follow are what I keep in mind when I write poems, but they can also apply to other genres.

 

Be Authentic and Real

Whatever I write in poetry I strive to show what stirs within me. I hope this doesn’t sound egotistical. Like other writers, however, I want to use my voice in my writing, not a voice of someone else.

For instance, when I see a reflection of a sunbeam light up the still surface of a lake, I want to express my wonder at such beauty. When I hear the loud cries of someone clinging to the body of a loved one who has died, my words try to show this level of agony.

 

Be Confident

Write with the full assurance the message of a poem will cause a response within a reader. I may not be able to predict a response, but I pray one or more will be expressed.

 

Be Bold

With the poetry I resonate with one must express a sense of boldness. I do not make a habit of being politically correct neither does my poetry hold back. We can be bold in how we write because the passion of our words caresses our soul. This unquenchable passion builds in us to the point our readers feel their lives will never be the same. This is a hope I long for about my poetry.

 

Be Responsive

Allow the words of a poem to touch you deep within and don’t be afraid to express your response. Feel the words. Allow poetic words to cause your brain to break through its comfort zone of the ordinary. Whether this is a response shown through a giggle, a cascade of tears, a huge hug, or a shout of joy, allow room for your expressive response.

In the context of my grief poetry, the poems reflect real life experiences of people. The tone of the poems offers words intended to capture the intimacy of grief experiences.

  

My prayer for my words.

Included in my blog post of July 20, 2022, readers were given an insight into how I pray for my poetry. Please allow me to repeat it here.

 

I pray there will be times where my words are tears. May they drip down a page where every letter, every word, holds on to each other. They will remind readers they are not alone. I also pray there are times my words will present as puppies eager to put smiles on faces. Other times I send my words out into the world in hopes they will bandage gaping wounds which are a result of a broken world.

 

Until Next Time

Dear friends, encourage your words to show healthy intimacy. Writers, alive with the salvation message of the Lord Jesus Christ, can have no part in crassness. Our use of intimacy in words are a light able to scatter darkness. We owe apologies to no one for our message. We must, however, be authentic and bold, with no compromise, yet exude love. May our words also show how we should then live.

 

 

 

Alan lives in Deroche, B.C. with his wife, Terry, and their poodle, Charlie. He contributed stories to Good Grief People by Angel Hope Publishing, 2017; Story by Story: The Power of a Writer, Unstoppable Writers Publishing, 2018; Easter Stories & More by InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship, 2021. He is currently working on a book expressing the grief of grieving grandparents entitled “Hidden Poetic Voices: A Reflective Work of Grief, Faith, and Poetry.” Alan periodically writes articles for FellowScript Magazine. He has written posts for our InScribe blog since 2015. Blog: https://scarredjoy.ca.

Quiet Words Listen by Alan Anderson

 

After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.—I Kings 19:11-12 (NIV)

 

The posts this month are words of life to me as a reader. The prompt for May causes me to ponder even as I write my post. The simple yet profound statement of our own, Lynn Simpson, has me recall a personal experience with the intimacy of words. In her post of October 3, 2020, Lynn noted, “Yet, I have now learned, our voices don’t have to be loud to be a role in change.” I love her line and resonate with it in a big way. As I continue here, please allow me to explain.

https://inscribewritersonline.blogspot.com/2020/10/what-breaks-your-heart.html.

 

A Brief View of My Depression of 1997

 

The fog came down first and gripped me. Before long, the grey of the fog led me into the black of a tunnel. I am trapped. No, I am lost.

 

I look at my words, and they look at me. None of us speak. There is no urgency, only stillness. I smile, and my words wink at me. A thought keeps going through my mind. “What do I do? Where do I take these words and care for them?” Suddenly they move. My words sit beside me, then embrace me. Their embrace sweeps over my thoughts and emotions. I realize my words care for me. They listened to me in the stillness. My mind clears and I know what to do. I too must listen. My words came to me unhurried, quiet, gentle, and changed me.

Depression Taught Me to Listen

The fog, the tunnel, the loneliness, and the darkness taught me about myself. This time of depression allowed me to confront my insecurity, fears, and doubts in life. I realized I had given too many years to them. I listened to the wrong words.

 

In my experience with depression, I also experienced the intimacy of words. This time where I withdrew into myself taught me to listen. I learned to listen more to who I am as a person. As I learned more about the art of listening, it helped me to listen to other people.

 

One’s ability to listen shows a more personal and helpful approach to come alongside people. Listening skills proved essential in my work as a chaplain. To listen to people who live with a progressive or terminal illness taught me about life. I call them “my teachers.” My teachers taught me to use words in a quiet manner.

 

Please allow me to recall one precious visit. The person lived with Alzheimer’s disease. She no longer spoke in an audible voice. She did, however, like to hold hands. This is how we spoke to each other. No words. I learned to listen with my eyes as well. Her eyes smiled. Her eyes told me she would die soon. A lesson I will never forget.

 

Here are a few humble lessons to share with you. 

11. Practice stillness. There is no need to rush through every day.

22.  Listen to stories people may speak from their darkness. The darkness can be crippling. They may need help to find God’s light.

33. Be gentle with those in the darkness. Listen to their words even if they stumble. This may open them to hearing your quiet words.

44.  We listen to show we care. Your words don’t have to be loud to make a difference.

55.  My depression had a purpose. God did not leave me.

 

 

Alan lives in Deroche, B.C. with his wife, Terry. He contributed stories to Good Grief People by Angel Hope Publishing, 2017, Story by Story: The Power of a Writer, Unstoppable Writers Publishing, 2018, and Easter Stories & More, by InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship, 2021. He has also written articles for FellowScript Magazine. Blog: https://scarredjoy.ca. Alan is the Provincial Rep. Liaison and BC Rep for InScribe.

 

“Rest” For 2020 by Alan Anderson

Matthew 11: 28-29—Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

I don’t have a practice of choosing a verse or word for a particular year. I’m giving it a shot for 2020. My key word is, “rest.”

No sooner had the New Year 2020 started reality reminded me the world acts as it is accustomed. You and I are bombarded by all sorts of in your face disruption and mankind’s cruelty to each other. Tragedies like the Jan. 8 plane crash woke me up to the fact of great sadness all over the world.

I’m tired of it all. What is the answer to all this weariness, this reality of being “heavy laden?” Is there an answer? As a storyteller who is a Christian I know there is. There is only one answer and no other. The words of Christ noted at the beginning of this post offer the answer. To those who come to Him, He offers rest.

I admit the yoke of the world, its ways of life, can weigh me down. This yoke is too much and difficult to bear. These days with so much sin, confusion and disorder being tolerated, I want to fade away. My thoughts taunt me by saying I don’t feel safe and I don’t fit in. The temptation to find a place to run away can be inviting.

Matthew 11:28-29 speaks to me. The words call me back and remind me of my deep need. There is a place of safety, of rest, from the storms of life and calamities of our world. I need to remind myself of this gentle rest. I need rest found only in God. This rest is not found in the world. Coming to God is the only way. I know this is basic to our lives if we are Christians.

Years ago my family doctor suggested I relax more. I can’t say I listened and in 1997 I began two years of burnout and depression. This dark time caused me to reflect on what I did to myself to come to this time of burnout. I took on too much to please other people. I know I have considered this time in my life in another InScribe post or two. The thing is as I reflect on this even today I am still learning from it.

Years have gone by since my burnout and depression but I still need rest. This rest allows me to be calm and patient even in the midst of the agonies of the world and those I love. I’m not always successful in this. This takes self-discipline for me, as I’m prone to worry about my family and others. When my wife had cancer surgery two years ago I must say it robbed me of rest. She reminded me of her attitude rest is possible even in such circumstance.

From a personal perspective, I rest and lay aside from performing for people, in doing things I think will stand me in good stead with others. I try to be at peace with the people in my world who don’t always understand me. I try to be at peace with decisions I make regarding relationships with others, including family, friends, and strangers.

I have “come” to God through Jesus and I realize I am in the world but not of it. To embrace, and never let go of Christ’s yoke is rest. Like all Christians, I too am to be Christ-like. I am to show what “rest” looks like to the world. I can walk with Him in peace and rest.

Oh, God, help me show your rest to all I meet.

https://scarredjoy.ca/

The Gift of Depression by Karma Pratt

I don't know why. Depression is a strange beast in that there's no "valid" reason for what you're feeling. Feelings of sadness, malaise, lethargy, exhaustion make it difficult to accomplish the simplest tasks. It's like struggling to get out of bed with a soggy, heavy blanket wrapped around your head and shoulders. It's impossible to move and often it feels easier to just lay back down. And it doesn't make any sense.

I have struggled with depression for a long time. For many years I was my own harshest critic, continually blasting myself for not being capable of "pulling myself together." I embraced the "just try harder" mentality and failed at it so often. What a mess. Now I am kinder and gentler to myself. I offer myself the same kind of compassion that I would not hesitate to give another. 

The gift of depression is this: My experiences allow me to come alongside others who are struggling and be present for them. When nothing's making sense, it helps to know that you are not alone.

I've had many ups and downs over the years, but in the fall of 2016 I entered into a spiritual depression, a dark night of the soul. At the time it was very difficult to see past my own inertia. I knew what I needed to do on a day-to-day basis, but had no drive or ability to accomplish even the simplest task. I also knew enough about depression by then to know that I needed outside assistance, and I self-referred for mental health services. It was during this period that I was diagnosed with major depression. 

It took a long time to wade through the darkness, to gain enough strength to toss off that soggy blanket that was burying me. I could not do it on my own. 

When I felt most alone, that's when God was closest. In the midst of my difficulty He was there making a way. He surrounded me with praying, Christ-centered people at a time when I wasn't able to pray for myself. He gave me lifelines to cling to and opportunities to heal. Prophetic words were spoken over my life in that season that I continue to live out. Watching God's grace unfold in your life creates a calm presence that overcomes the darkness. 

Looking back, I believe God planted me in that darkness in order to show me who I am in Him. He needed me to know in my heart that I am His. The road is long and often difficult. The path is uncertain at the best of times. In a world of uncertainty, the one thing worth clinging to is the certainty of our sovereign God. 

The obstacle that once held me captive - depression - has become a way to shine a light for others. I am equipped to come alongside other people and say with complete honesty, "I hear you. I see you. I understand you." Life is hard, but we can do hard things. Together we will continue to lift up those soggy blankets and let the light in. 

I believe it's critically important to know who you are in Christ. Change will be fleeting and insubstantial if you do not know in your spirit that you belong to God. If you struggle with depression, know that you are not alone. There is help to be found. Our temporal problems are no problem for our eternal relationship with Jesus. Repeat after me: "The blood of Christ is in me." 

For by the blood of Christ we are set free, that is, our sins are forgiven. How great is the grace of God - Ephesians 1:7 (GNT)

Struggles and doubts will not cease to be, but we can rest assured that the peace of God is for us too. There's hope to be found in the darkness, and strength to be found in numbers. You are not alone. 

***

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

Writing to Mend Broken Vessels by Sharon Espeseth

Free photo with Scripture Verse

I am an earthen vessel. I didn't notice the cracks when they were smaller. . . Right now, the clay pot that is my life feels broken.

Normally, I write about how I am feeling. I write about the joys and sorrows of the day. My writing helps to keep me healthy--mentally, physically and spiritually. I write to mend my soul and spirit. This time I felt so poorly I couldn't write.

For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 2 Corinthians 4:6-7

My writing fingers are becoming untied. The healing process begins, but this time I suspect the journey may be longer. Different symptoms. Other illness(es) so far undiagnosed? I do not know.

Below is some of the writing that got me writing again. I am humbled to publish this, polished or not. The asterisks indicate where parts have been omitted to spare you the reading.


"Hello, Darkness!
my old nemesis.
I should have heard you whisper
in my good, but aching ear:
"I am darkness your old friend,
I've come to bother you again.'

"Humph! I thought you were ignoring me
with your thankful-to-God ways."

"How could I ignore the migraine,
or the pain of skin, scalp and muscles
on the left side crying in pain
from the slightest touch?"


                      * * *


"Six weeks I've been ill.
One day I was well, functioning,
Carrying on with normal tasks.
Then, as if attacked from behind,
I had headache, earache, fatigue,
nausea, dizziness, vomiting."

"I did get your attention!
I am Darkness, your old friend.
I've come to talk with you again."

"You are not my friend!
You, Darkness, are making me sick.
I don't want to talk with you!"

"May I remind you.
Nothing happened "out of the blue."

I've been following you for years.
Downsizing. Selling the home you loved.
Packing moving--not once,
But three times in three years!"

"Landlord #1 wanted too much lordship.
All we wanted was our own space
where we could carve out a comfortable home
for our family and friends.
Instead this became a discomfort zone
Where my husband would become ill.

                     * * *
"Don't you remember?
Life wasn't the same after that.
Yes, you moved again,
But life would never go back to the way it was.
Did you take time to grieve the loss of life
As you had known it?"

                      * * *

"Place #2 and then Place #3 appeared.
We saw an ad in the local paper.


"Would it hurt to look? We actually liked it
It has character. A small raised garden.
Room for the kids and grand ones to stay over.
Our adult kids helped us move. Again.
Pack. Move. Unpack. Settle in. Repeat."


"You sound defensive, my dear.
What about your almost-twin sister, Joan?
Her years of Alzheimer's--you suffered with her.
She moved to a residence.
She was diagnosed with 4th stage lung cancer.
You suffered with her."

                         * * *

"So joyful was I for her that I didn't acknowledge
how much I would miss her. Three years later,
when depression strikes again, I realize her loss
all the more.
Until we meet again, Joan."


My story may help others realize they are not alone in their suffering, be it depression, loss of one kind or another, or pain, but that is not my job. God can work through my physical or mental weakness, my weakness of faith, my sorrow when I share my story and leave it in His hands. If God can use my story for mending one other person, the glory is His. I may never know. Nor do I need to know.

"But God choses the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things--and the things that are not--to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. 1 Corinthians 1:27-29 NIV

For some time, I have appreciated the hymn Earthen Vessels by John Foley, 1975.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IAZhIw49ULc

Free photo with Scripture verse

This is a good place for me to conclude my story about "writing as mending." I had original planned to write this for May 10th, but I was not ready to write anything at that time. I pray that God will continue to shine His light on my darkness and on any darkness you may have as well, my readers.

What Christians Tend To Get Wrong About Depression by Bob Jones

Depression is personal to me.

That statement introduced one of my most popular blog posts – “What Christians Tend To Get Wrong About Depression.”

The February 2014 post arose out of a prayer asking God to infuse my writing with content that mattered. “I need your insight and wisdom to clearly deliver hope, and especially to Christians struggling with depression.”

My cousin died by suicide. Her marriage had failed. Rejected. Despairing. She prayed with no avail from the mental torture. She succumbed to a silent, suffering in solitary until her pain ended at her own hand.

Christians tend to experience the greatest challenge dealing with mental illness because we believe people of faith can do anything with God’s help.

In pastoral counselling I encounter many who believe that a one and done kind of prayer offered in faith should deliver believers from all their afflictions. When deliverance doesn’t happen, self-condemnation piles on to already troubled souls.

Job, Elijah, Jeremiah and David are four well know Bible characters who described their lives using terms associated with depression.

These are not “poetic” descriptions of a spiritual condition. These are the desperate declarations of people at the end of their rope. Instead of a one-and-done antidote, the Bible starkly shows the dread that accompanies the ill.

I felt compelled to go out on a limb as a pastor and declare the following about God’s perspective on depression:

Spirit-filled Christians can experience depression.

Many giants of the faith faced prolonged depression.

Depression is not oppression.

Depression is not a choice.

Depression is not a character defect.

Depression is not a spiritual disorder.

Depression is not an emotional dysfunction.

Depression is the only physical illness with spiritual symptoms.

There is hope for Christians facing depression just like those facing cancer or brokenness.

If you or a loved one suffers from depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, or any other mental illness, it’s NOT your fault. You need help – and asking for help is a sign of strength.

Bob is a recovering perfectionist, who collects Coca-Cola memorabilia and drinks Iced Tea. His office walls are adorned with his sons’ framed football jerseys, and his library shelves, with soul food. He writes to inspire people to be real, grow an authentic faith in Jesus, enjoy healthy relationships and discover their life purpose.

Follow his writing at Pointes Of View.

I Can See (More) Clearly Now - Marnie Pohlmann

The saying "Hindsight is always 20/20" may not be true if we don't take the time to look back for the lessons the past can teach us.

I admit there are things in my past I do not enjoy looking back to. I have needed to look back at past pain to heal my damaged emotions and self-concept. The exercise is not pleasant, yet it is necessary and may be necessary again in the coming months so I can see more clearly.

I have tried looking only at good memories, or fun stories my siblings have told, yet I cannot help but see the painful memories that bookend those times. These dark moments are part of my life and part of what has molded who I am today. However, the light of God's presence is also part of my life and who I am. Of course, this truth I didn't see at the time, but as I look back, I can see more clearly now.

As a little girl, I was afraid of the shadows that came out at night when the house went silent. The comfort of a small bookmark with a shining cross pinned to my wall, I can see now, was letting me know that even though what I feared still approached, God was hiding my face in His chest. God was present in my darkness, connecting with me. (This is the inspiration for my blog, Phosphorescent.)

A few years later at Bible camp, God revealed Himself to me in a new way.  I understood what was happening in my dysfunctional Christian home may continue, but God would be with me if I wanted Him to be. I said, "Yes, please," and invited Jesus into my heart. God was connecting to me amid life’s confusion.

As a teen, I was making plans to run away from home. Before I could run, my parents took my younger brother and me from BC to Ontario to visit some of my brothers. I took the opportunity to get a job and stay in Ontario, sharing an apartment with my brothers while I finished high school. The unwritten rule of the apartment was that if I was not at school or work, I was at church. I joined in youth events that included memorizing Scripture and writing for contests. God was directing my path, connecting with me.

As a young married lady, I learned to drink coffee - and liquor. We played slow-pitch with a partying group of friends and went to the bar to drink and dance. It seemed that every time we were at a party the song "Spirit in the Sky" would be played. This song is not about God, yet never failed to remind me that the Spirit, God, was in the bar, disappointed but not judgmental, just letting me know He was with me. Even in drunkenness, God connected with me.

Eventually, God caught my attention more fully, and then that of my husband. In many ways, God directed our paths as we healed in one town, grew in faith in another town, and finally went to train at Bible School in a city. The whole story is too long to go into here, but God changed our focus from Chaplaincy to Pastoring. God led us to our small church in northern British Columbia where we had desired to live even in our partying days. We were unaware of the church until God introduced us to it through non-believing friends! God continued to connect with me in unique ways He knew would reach my heart.

I see more clearly now when God connects with me. For example, God used my husband's favourite song, "It is Well with My Soul" to assure me in a frightful situation that it was well with my soul because God was with me.

 In 2013 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I had surgery and radiation, and was prescribed Tamoxifen for the next 5 years. Over the next 2 years, I had more surgeries for cancer concerns that turned out to be benign. In 2016 when another cancer concern came up I chose to have a bilateral mastectomy to put an end to surgery.

During those years I had also developed Seasonal Affective Disorder;

I began experiencing symptoms of secondary Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from my job, which was compounded with the resumption of PTSD triggered by my childhood;

I felt medications I was taking, especially the Tamoxifen, were contributing to my depression and anxiety; 

During my mastectomy, my husband found out he was quite ill and months later was diagnosed with lymphoma so needed chemo - before and during his treatments complications brought him close to death several times;

As a Federal employee throughout all this, I was caught up in the "Phoenix fiasco" that continues to affect the pay of thousands of government workers.

Wally is presently doing well, and physically I am as also. I still struggle with mental health issues though and continue to reach out for help. I can see (more) clearly now, some of the ways God has connected with me through this dark time - and they are amazing! I will write about them all at some point, but this post is already longer than it should be.

Have you taken the time to look back, no matter how difficult, to see when God has connected with you? Perhaps as believers, we see this more clearly, but unbelievers can also become aware of God's presence in their past and present. He is never far away. Seeing God gives hope for the future. God reveals Himself in ways that are uniquely meaningful to each one of us.

God wants to connect with you.

*photos compliments of CCO license, Pexels.com and Pixabay.com

Marnie writes to show God is present, and that makes all the difference. 

You can connect with Marnie at Phosphorescent.

A New Road - Marnie Pohlmann

I walk down this road of life.

I trip and fall into a dark hole.

I get up and continue walking.

Again, I trip and fall into a dark hole.

I climb out and continue walking.

Once again, I trip and fall into another dark hole.

Deeper this time, it is difficult to climb out.

But I pull myself up and walk on.

And again, I fall into a deep hole.

But I decide to stay awhile.

Eventually, I climb up the wall and back onto the path.

I fall into a hole.

I realize how dark, dreary, and lonely it is.

I decide to decorate, to make it cozier.

I hang a picture of me as a child, and I write in my journal.

I scream pain onto the page in silent words.

No one hears, so I stay in the hole.

Time goes by.

Though I believe I am secure and comfortable in my hole,

I begin to notice light up above.

I continue to write in my journal.

Then I hear a voice, calling to me.

He says he will help me get out of my hole,

He says, if I choose, he will walk with me on my path.

I think about it, but am frightened.

I know my hole.

I don't know outside, or down the road.

I am not sure I can trust the voice.

Yet he continues to call.

His words appear in my journal.

Finally, I agree to meet him.

He reaches down and helps me out of my hole.

I bring my journals.

He walks with me.

Just when I am about to trip into a deep hole,

He catches me.

We continue walking.

I sometimes almost fall into other dark holes,

But as I trip, he holds me.

I still skin my knees sometimes and he lets me cry,

but he comforts me.

We walk on.

And now He guides me down a different road.

I based this story on a poem I read many years ago. That poem did not have the journals or God calling to me, but it did end with learning to walk a new road. I have not been able to find the original author's name or even the original words. Over the years I have seen this idea of repeatedly falling into the hole, decorating the hole, and eventually choosing a new road, become a picture of my life.

I have a love-hate relationship with the journals I have kept on my journey. On one hand, they contain pain, struggles, and rebellion; times I do not wish to relive. On the other hand, they contain answers from God to my pleas, and they show how He has been at work in my life all these years.

My goal a while ago was to read through those journals to see what I could use in my writing. I was nervous about this project so decided this would be an exercise in research, not a reliving of the past. An emotional detachment was the key, or so I thought. I knew God was with me, holding my hand and ready to point out the gems of what He wanted me to share through writing.

And then I found myself again in a dark hole. Not because of my journals, but because of life circumstances which I found overwhelming. I returned to childhood coping methods I know do not work and once again believed the old messages of shame and worthlessness. Then I began to decorate my hole with pictures of everything wrong with me and my present life. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder once again settled into the corners of the darkness, bringing alive all the negative emotions of childhood, the work I do, and cancer.

I was depressed, yes, but I was not afraid - I am not afraid. In the dark times, God is present. When I am struggling, God is at work. He will not ever leave me, Scripture says, and He never has, so I know He won't this time. He calls to me and reaches down to help me out of the hole again.

Emotion is part of the past as much as it is part of today. If I am to read and write from my life journals, I must do it acknowledging and including all the feelings and emotions, not as a dry research paper. Memories in my journals may be dark, but I believe I will also see where the Sonshine drew me out of the holes. Rather than being nervous about this project, I am now excited to discover and re-discover God's presence in my life and how He so gently leads me to walk with Him on a new road.

I have been sporadic in my journaling lately. Writing ideas are strewn about in various pretty journals, church bulletins, Bible Study notebooks, and even in my phone. Personal woes and joys are dated with months between the entries. I have found I miss having (making) the time to journal.

This month's posts have been inspirational, showing me how journals are a gift. I now realize that organizing the thoughts, lessons, and ideas in those journals is also a gift. 

I think I'll start (another) new journal.

Photos courtesy of CCO License: hole - pexels.com;  girl, journal - pixabay.com

Marnie struggles and journals in northern BC. Visit her blog, Phosphorescent, to read her adventures in absorbing and reflecting God's light in dark times.