Always Exploring by Lorilee Guenter

 

The guidebook sits open on my table. I mark places on a map, make notes, and dream of what I will experience. The list of opportunities grows. I sit and consider my options.

My notebook lays open, waiting for words. The ideas come in bits and bobs. Will it be a poem, a short story, an essay or something else? A dictionary sits nearby accompanied by a thesaurus in case I need to locate a missing word. The opportunities are many, the time is short.

In life and in writing, I am an explorer. I study and plan, then at some point I toss the plans and jump in. I have tried to stick to just one thing among the many available options. It does not work. I have preferred vacation destinations and writing styles. However, I also have a deep desire to try different things.

My curiosity has led me to declare that I am allergic to boredom. This unfortunately has led to many unfinished projects. I tried them. Some I didn't enjoy them enough to complete them. Others I started but before I finished them I was enticed by new opportunities. Is this a character flaw to be overcome or is it a character trait I need to recognise and work with?

In a world of specialists, the generalist stands out. For years I chaffed at the advice to pick a niche and excel at it. It reminds me of the advice when travelling rough rural roads: choose your rut wisely, you'll be in it for miles. I don't want to find myself in a rut that saps the vibrancy from life. Therefore, I remain a generalist. In doing so, I remain curious and engaged in a variety of activities.

Last month I wrote about my varied reading habits and how they spill over into my writing. When I read this month's theme, my first thought was: I can't write to that? What style can I research and try? Instead of trying another new thing this month, I rebelled. Instead, I paused to consider what I have learned as I've tried various styles and genres over the years.

Lesson 1: Some things will be junk. They belong in the recycle bin. This does not mean they were a failure. They were opportunities to experiment and learn. Take the lessons learned and let the rest go. I have found that a favourite line or character may get recycled into another piece of writing where they work better.

Lesson 2: Some styles are hard. This could mean it is not an appropriate style for me (or you) at this time. I never rule out returning to try again. I would love to write a mystery. I have three attempts started. Each of them was abandoned because of difficulties I don't have the ability (or inclination) to overcome at this time. I reserve the right to return to them at anytime.

Lesson 3: Sometimes I am compelled to write in a style I do not enjoy. When God prompts, it is good to trust and follow His leading. I fought with the repeated claim, "I don't write memoir." The more I fought, the more I had creative block. Once I said yes, the ideas returned and the words flowed.

Lesson 4: All writing helps improve skill. Sometimes I "warm up" my writing muscles with short exercises in different styles and genres. Poetry is a great change of pace while I work on a novel. It forces me to consider the picture my words are drawing for the reader. 

Lesson 5: As with everything in life, God is the source of all that is good. When I partner with Him, I will learn the lesson He is teaching me. I will know when to push through obstacles and when to put a piece away temporarily or permanently. He is editing my life as He informs my thoughts and helps me hone my skills. If I try to do things on my own, I fail.

Lorilee Guenter is a Saskatoon based artist and writer. Her writing stems from the many questions she finds herself pondering and from the things she observes on her wanderings. She believes both her curiosity and her creativity are gifts from God.

They Call Me Pastor by Bob Jones

The July prompt invited us to explore a genre we have never written in. Mine is poetry. I researched the various types of poetry: free style, haiku, ode, elegy, epic, ballad, acrostic, sonnet, and limerick to name a few.

Here’s my attempt at my own definition of freestyle poetry.

Being a pastor is not something to which I aspired.
It certainly wasn't a childhood desire.
By nurture, I'm a people person.
By nature, I’m the opposite version.

See a turtle on a fence post?
It didn't get there on its own
someone placed it there alone.
My fence post is a platform
that is not the norm,
of pastoral dare
for people under my care.

My most common connections with people occur
Sundays in the church foyer, which I prefer.

Preaching, teaching, praying, and meetings that are kept short,
Or officiating a wedding, a baby dedication or a celebration of some sort.

My most enduring connections are with people in crisis,
careening through a divorce,
facing debilitating distress,
suddenly bereaved,
with a loved one in need of help,
or diagnosed with a terminal illness,
not knowing where else to turn, who call for help.

We cry together,
struggle together,
pray together,
mourn together,
heal together.

Those circumstances create timeless connections.

We bond because of the shared pain and grace,
and thrive through the things we face.
We become warrior, sisters, brothers,
because our light has not been smothered.

It's easy to pick up a conversation after many months of separation,
renewed connections need no preparation.

Every so often, one of those connections does not stand the test of time.
Or trouble.

Seemingly out of the blue there is a change.

When my leadership,
spiritual insight,
ministry,
vision,
friendship,
are no longer adequate for their,
preference/need/circumstance,

and a close friend/co-worker/congregant
chooses to no longer be an ally,

I have to say,
“Ouch,”
and then,
“Grace and peace to you.”

…and continue to nurture and focus on the people still in my care.

I'd like to say that I have learned not to let such experiences of loss affect me, but I haven’t.

I’ve concluded that pain is the price of caring and vulnerability.
Jesus understood that.

After all,
who was it that experienced the first, “Judas Kiss?”

My pastoral ministry has spanned forty-four years, however in many ways I feel like a rookie.

I suppose that’s good because it means that each day brings new,
challenges,
complexities,
opportunities,
ways of doing things, and
ways of dealing with life.

The newness compels me to lean hard into Jesus.

No two days of ministry are EVER the same.

Variety is the spice of life,
and my pastoral experience is 5-pepper spicy.

There is nothing I would rather be than a pastor,
Even though other careers

To hear someone, someday say
that my life helped saved the day
or inspired them to pursue pastoral
would be my highest commendation.

Til then,
I will keep the faith,
fight the good fight,
run with perseverance,
long for His appearing,
forget what is behind, and
press toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me.

And there you go. How did I do?

Thank you for reading all the way through.