R is For Razzle-Dazzle by Bob Jones

Some people use up words, and some people make up words.

 

Think of the words okeydoke, fuddy-duddy, super-duper, roly-poly, fiddle-faddle, and my mother’s favourite, dillydally. “No dillydallying! We’ve got things to do.” You’ve most likely heard them or used them at some time, but somebody made up those words from their imagination.

 

RAZZLE-DAZZLE

Take the word razzle-dazzle. If you follow the NHL and the Stanley Cup Playoffs, I guarantee you’ll hear that expression sometime over the seven-game series on a did-you-see-that goal scored by Connor McDavid. The word means “a complex maneuver designed to confuse an opponent” or “brilliance”.

Razzle-dazzle has been in use since the late 1880s as a descriptor of a scarf with a disjointed pattern. During WWI, Allied ships were painted in bright zig-zig patterns to confuse German U-boats. The term was even good enough for kids because when I was one in the early 60s, there was a daily CBC TV program called Razzle Dazzle. Did you watch it?

CHICAGO

If you watched the Broadway musical, Chicago, you heard the song “Razzle Dazzle”. The lyrics imagine the impact of the word:

 

Give 'em the old razzle dazzle
Razzle Dazzle 'em
Give 'em an act with lots of flash in it
And the reaction will be passionate
Give 'em the old hocus pocus
Bead and feather 'em
How can they see with sequins in their eyes?

What if your hinges all are rusting?

What if, in fact, you're just disgusting?

Razzle dazzle 'em
And they’ll never catch wise!

 Give 'em the old Razzle Dazzle

Razzle dazzle 'em
Give 'em a show that's so splendiferous

Row after row will crow vociferous

Give 'em the old flim flam flummox
Fool and fracture 'em

How can they hear the truth above the roar?

 

TRUTH

Good question. How can they hear the truth above the roar? The strategy behind propaganda is, the louder a lie is roared, the easier it is to be believed. When I travelled through Ukraine I asked people, “Is it easier to believe a lie or the truth?” Every person answered, a lie.

The R word for June, razzle-dazzle, is a reminder to be on guard against lies in all their forms.

 

Lies told to us.

Lies sold to us.

Lies we tell ourselves about ourselves.

Lies that undermine relationships.

 

The other reminder is in our writing to remember we are truth-tellers.

 

The truth sets people free.

The gospel of Jesus Christ is the ultimate truth.

Writers who are followers of Jesus are freedom fighters using truth.

 

There is no need for razzle-dazzle in writing Christian truths. The gospel is brilliance enough.

 

Thank you for writing, reading and commenting.

M is for Moments by Lorilee Guenter

I sat on a rough log as a gentle breeze formed ripples on the lake in front of me. A song brought tears of grief. As I sat, a pelican appeared swimming along the shoreline to my right. While it swam out from the tree cover, I thanked God for the gift of seeing the bird up close. Little did I know it would climb out of the water and sit on the rocks beside me. The two of us sat together in silence. It was a moment orchestrated by God.

I was near the end of a spring hike. My legs protested each step as I neared the trail head. As I gasped for air, I told my husband I was done. I knew I would continue but I wanted to stop and sit on the cold ground, giving in to every complaining muscle in my body. It was an irrational thought since we could see the curve in the path just before the trail head and parking lot. I continued knowing comfort was close. As I turned the corner bringing the vehicle into view, I heard a rustling in the woods. I looked up to see a bear looking at me. We held each others eyes for a moment before it continued to the spot I wanted to stop at and then to the river beyond. I continued to the car.

These two examples are unusual experiences. They are moments in time brought about by God. The unexpected and the everyday events all enrich our lives and our writing. 

I looked up the definition of moment. It is a measure of time that is usually brief, such as my encounter with the bear or the pause to notice a new flower. It can also be a point in time that is noteworthy, such as my encounter with the pelican. I find the first blossoms on my haskap plants each spring spring noteworthy. It is a moment I look forward to since it is a sign of the garden waking up. They arrive along with tulips and other spring flowers. The moment I notice them is a brief time. In that way the moment of noticing meets both definitions.

When I write fiction the moments I choose to create give insight into what is important to the characters. They move the story forward. My experiences allow me to add authenticity as I include details I have experienced. However, my experiences don't limit my imagination. Instead they inform it and provide a framework I can build on.

In life, each moment is a chance to pause and recognise God's presence. It is an opportunity to admire His handiwork. From moment to moment He is writing His story and we have the privilege of being part of it. 

A Door Between ~ Valerie Ronald

 This is a reprint of an article I had published in ICWF's FellowScript magazine in November 2019. It best conveys the essence of my writing journey, not in facts but through my inner progression from word-struck child to seasoned writer -- still word-struck.

 

 An Indian princess opened the door for me. I found her waiting on a shelf between the faded red cloth covers of my first chapter book. She crouched behind a tree on page one, her black braids and fringed buckskin dress sketched above the opening paragraph. With a raised hand she pointed into the belly of the book, so I followed her.  

This first trip to a library marked my graduation from picture to chapter books, a momentous event not to be hurried. My mother waited patiently while I drew down volume after volume. Each cover was judged on its appeal, illustrations perused, and pages thumbed through. When the Indian princess beckoned me into her world, I knew this was the perfect choice. She rode home proudly on my lap, my fidgety fingers on the cover itching to let her out.  

So began construction of the revolving door between my two worlds. In my exterior world I contentedly lived an ordinary life. But my interior world whispered at the door for any opportunity to grab my imagination by the hand and run. It teased my waking hours with daydreams and at night it held sway, filling my mind’s eye with fantastic scenes and stories until I sank reluctantly into sleep. Discovering chapter books threw the door wide for a myriad of tales to march in, populating my world with rich characters and scenes often more real to me than my own life. 

Stepping through the wardrobe door into C.S. Lewis’ Narnia, I encountered the great lion, Aslan, who evoked a childish reverence foreshadowing a future faith in his prototype. The miniature world of The Borrowers found me prone on the floor acting out their story with dollhouse furniture. J.R.R. Tolkien’s wizard, Gandalf, took on the bushy gray brows and twinkling eyes of my teacher, Mr. Smith, who read The Hobbit aloud while doing all the voices. 

My unfettered imagination refused to be reined in, spilling words onto paper at every opportunity. Gypsies, haunted forests, princesses, and magic spells pushed their way through my pen, seeking form and voice in my amateur compositions. My vocabulary and writing skills developed simultaneously with the countless books I devoured to feed my appetite for stories. I could not ingest words quick enough to satisfy the ravenous hunger of one who saw the world as a continuous tale begging to be transcribed. 

Behind the exterior world of a shy, awkward girl a parallel world teemed with all that I did not possess. Like infants learning to walk, adventure, beauty, and virtue stumbled for expression in my writing. At first I hugged my novice attempts to myself. The exercise of writing brought a satisfaction wholly my own ˗˗ a solitary catharsis not dependent on affirmation from others. But what good was a story written if not shared? If one day mine was to be the book drawn from a shelf then I needed to let others into my interior world. The door revolved both ways. 

So I released some of my literary offspring and to my wonder they were affirmed as showing promise. This changed everything. Books were places in which I could be lost, but now they became where I could be found. Reading for pleasure evolved into exploring literature to learn from successful authors. Could I subtly comment on the social mores of the day like Jane Austen, create and populate whole worlds like Tolkien, craft an endearing heroine like Lucy Maud Montgomery? Could I spread my own heart across a page for others to peruse? 

Years later, the door to my interior world still stands open. Being vulnerable is the risk I take as a writer chronicling from the heart. Numerous books are welcomed in to refresh, stimulate, and feed that world. I leave the door revolving in the wind. Perhaps an Indian princess will pass through. 

More of Valerie's work can be read on her blog.

https://wordpress.scriptordeus.com/

Just Imagine - Lorrie Orr

 

You can't see anyone else in the dinghy - just me. My husband snapped this photo while we were in the Octopus Islands off Vancouver Island. Living on a small boat for two weeks sometimes has us both craving a bit of solitude. Going for a paddle in the dinghy provides that. My mind drifts along with the waves and the current, and meanders along an endless variety of topics. 

Being in the natural world of creation is where I often feel closest to God, and this day I had a particularly strong sense of his presence, so much so that I could almost see Jesus sitting in the dinghy in front of me, wearing blue jeans, with bare feet. We conversed a little, but mostly it was a time of silent companionship as I rowed along the shore admiring the rock formations, the shadowed forest, and the play of light on the water. A monarch butterfly fluttered among the trees, bright orange against shaded green, and I sensed Jesus' smile at my delight. 

Using my imagination deepens my spiritual life, my connection to God, and I have begun practicing this deliberately. When I say the Lord's Prayer "let your will be done on earth as it is in heaven", I take the time to think and imagine how it would really look to see and experience God's will in various situations. Then, I am moved to act towards seeing God's kingdom come on earth.

When I imagine myself in the parable of the lost coin (Luke 15), I imagine sorting through my belongings, casting this and that aside in a frantic effort to find what I really need at the moment - that coin. I sense the woman's desperation at the loss, her deliberate efforts to find it, and finally, her intense joy and the compelling desire to share her find with her friends. I am then moved to reflect on what is of such great importance to me. What is it that I have searched for, and found, and must share with my friends and neighbours?

Just imagine.

I'll leave you with a few quotations on imagination that I have been pondering recently.

"The Christian imagination plays a great role in the spiritual development of the soul." (St. John of the Cross)

"The life of faith is less about gathering information than it is about expanding imagination...Only in our imagination can we begin to contain even the smallest expression of the bigness of God..." (Erwin Raphael McManus, The Artisan Soul, p 100-101)

"There is something mysterious and perhaps more than moral about the power and call of imagination." (G. K. Chesterton)

Lorrie Orr writes from southern Vancouver Island where she spends time with her husband boating and hiking.  She delights in spending time with her five grandchildren and introducing them to God's amazing creation.