Breathing with Words by Lorrie Orr

Welcome to 2026! Here's our first prompt for the year: Journaling, at its core, involves recording thoughts and experiences in written form, often as a form of reflection and emotional outlet. There are bullet journals, morning pages, physical notebooks, digital platforms, gratitude journals, and more. Do you journal? If so, what is your process and why do you journal? Have you used your journal work in your public writing?

Like most young girls, I received the occasional diary as Christmas or birthday gifts. There was a page for each day of the year. I always began with gusto, writing down my daily activities with the pen provided. Alas, the daily writing did not last and soon the diary was discarded with very little writing. During my teenage years I wrote long, angst-filled lines on school paper and kept them in a binder. I soon shredded those embarrassing scribbles. Later I began writing in hard-bound journals, not every day, not even every week, but when I felt the need to write. And it is a need. Sometimes I just have to let my emotions flow through my hand and pen onto paper.

Journaling has benefits noted by the science community. Here are three of them:

Clarity

I once heard Elisabeth Elliot say that you don't know what you're thinking until you write it down. Often, as I write, my thoughts untangle and I find I can zero-in on why I am feeling a certain way, or how to solve an issue I might be dealing with. Plot lines and ideas for future writing often come from my journals. Lists or bullet points can be helpful in noting down disparate thoughts without worrying about writing a cohesive paragraph.

Stress Management

Wordsworth wrote "Let your words be the breathing of your heart." I have found that sleeplessness and anxiety are often eased by writing. Science backs this up. In Psychology Today I read, "Regular writing is known to reduce symptoms of depression and anxiety, and it can be used as a form of stress and emotional regulation." I often combine Scripture with my writing as I think about the promises of God. When I write about my feelings, I acknowledge them and bring them to God who is faithful in good times and bad. I can be completely honest about my feelings without concern about what others might think. The pages can be ugly sometimes, and they often end in written prayer as I consider God who is faithful in good times and bad.

Creativity

Journaling is not a daily practice for me unless I am traveling. When we travel I keep a daily record of events. I have found it interesting to look back and remember the activities of the day. I also write sensory descriptions and spend time thinking about how I felt and how to describe it without resorting to cliches. When we visited Provence, we rented a motorbike and zoomed around the countryside. I was bombarded with the scent of the fields - lavender, rose, and fruit - and tried to describe that in my travel journal. When I reread those journals, the scents and sounds are immediately brought back to the forefront of my brain.

Writing anecdotes of interactions with people also stretches my writing ability as I strive for succinctness and precision. I can practice new ways of communicating through my words by writing from different points of view. I use new words to see how they flow in sentences. Once in awhile I sketch alongside my words.

My journals are where I collect words of others that inspire me, and scraps of conversations, or fragments of thoughts.

________________________

Normally, I might write for several days in a row then leave it for a week or two before returning. This Boxing Day morning as I put the finishing touches on this post, I sit in a pool of lamplight. I have just written in my journal of the fullness of my heart after a most lovely Christmas Day. In years to come, Lord willing, I might read those words and think of the happiness of that day.

Are my journals useful beyond holding memories? Yes. When writing blog posts, devotionals, even stories, I'll check back over my journals for ideas or clarification. And as Oscar Wilde once said, "I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read on the train." It's fun to look back over the years at the scribbles contained in my journals. God has been constant and caring throughout my life, always present, always loving.

Lorrie Orr writes from Vancouver Island.

More of her thoughts can be found at

Fabric Paper Thread

Substack

 

S is For Senior Processing Errors by Bob Jones

Has it happened to you?

 

You go into the kitchen to get the key to the mailbox, see the dishwasher needs emptying, and as you put the clean dishes away you realize you haven’t had your morning coffee but as you pour a cup you can’t remember why you came into the kitchen.

 

Stan Goldberg has written a lot about different types of senior moments. What they share in common is information processing errors. These moments are not necessarily early warning signs of dementia or Alzheimer’s disease. They are normal experiences that can be helped with more sleep, a healthy diet, exercise, doing one thing at a time, using stress management techniques or reducing mental clutter by using lists, calendars or apps.

 

How many of the following have you experienced?

 

1.  Forgetting Names/Numbers

Have you been at a gathering, and a person approaches you whose name has inexplicably been stripped from your memory? What’s worse is when the person is a close relative. As the person approaches, your anxiety increases with each step. Or, you have called your spouse’s cell phone hundreds of times but when you need to use someone else’s phone to call, you can’t remember if the last four digits are 6502 or 6250.

 

2.  Repeating Stories

You meet a friend, and they begin telling a story about a trip. You groan inwardly because this is the second or third or fourth time you have heard it. You listen politely because you understand the story has more to do with the significance it has in your friend’s life.

 

3. Misplacing Objects/Forgetting Purpose

We all misplace objects. It is a daily occurrence for some people. Sometimes we misplace ourselves. You end up in a room in your house and can’t remember why you went there.

 

4. Substituting Words

When a man asked his wife if their dog, Silver, had been fed, he used a long-deceased pet’s name, followed by the name of another deceased dog, then a third, eventually retrieving “Silver.”

 

5. Sequencing Problems

Everyone has experienced problems with tasks that require a series of steps. Sometimes, if the sequence is interrupted, even briefly, I forget the reason for initiating the move.

 

6. Difficulty Completing Tasks

It is Saturday morning, and you look at a list of unfinished projects accumulating over the last six months. You are so overwhelmed that instead of starting any of the tasks, you curl up in your favourite chair with a coffee and begin reading a new novel.

 

7. Disorientation

You show up at a store you’ve been in hundreds of times before and know exactly where to go to get what you need because your legs know exactly where to take you. However, one day when you show up, you are at a loss on how to get to your destination.

 

How many have you experienced?

 

Oh, did I write that already?

 

Processing errors can be troubling, but most of the time they're just a result of the brain's normal aging process. It is important to make note of these experiences over time and ask others to tell you if they've noticed that the moments are becoming more frequent and if so seek out professional help.

 

One thing I am encouraged by as I age is that Bible memorization is a way to keep your brain, as well as your spirit, tuned up.

 

Thank you for reading. 

 

Bob (the above photo is from my 70th b-day after running 10km to raise $ for humanitarian work in Ukraine)

J is for Junk Journals by Carol Harrison

 

 

 

Store aisles filled with journals and pens grab my attention. It is hard to resist the call of a pretty journal even when I have a shelf full at home, waiting to be used. I ask myself, at times, if I really love to record parts of my life journey in these books or do I just like the idea of it and the prettiness of the covers? Actually the answer is a bit of both.                  

 

I don't journal every day even though I feel like writing thoughts, stories, and life events should happen more frequently. When I wrote Amee's Story, I had lots of notes of bits of paper, old calendars, and journal entries that helped relive the events of her life that needed to be captured in the book. It brought memories to the surface, gave me specific incidents to write about in detail recorded at the time, and what I felt as well.                 

 

But what about these things called junk journals? They have become a new hobby which helps with my mental health and creativity too. I can take bits and pieces that would normally end up in the recycle bin, add in some odds and ends of scrapbook papers, and find decorations in stickers, stamps, old buttons, beads, or dollar store finds. But making these handmade journal books is only part of the process.                                                 

 

There are lots of blank pages waiting to be filled with writing, drawing, or photos. There are pockets and tuck spots waiting to hold memorabilia and other paper ephemera. I often make the closures to enable me to add many pieces of paper, pictures, and other bits and pieces that add to the story, growing the journal fatter and fatter, yet still able to be held together in a pretty way.                                                                                                       

But the best thing about these handmade junk journals is that they are one more method of recording story. We all know the value of a story and we all have a story or many stories to tell. These stories can be preserved for future generations. But writing in a journal of any kind also gives you that option of going back and seeing where you have been and comparing it to where you are now and God's leading over the course of time. It offers research opportunities for creative non-fiction or even a fiction book or short story which can then be shared with a wider audience.                                                                       

 

As I pull out all the supplies to make a new junk journal, creativity takes hold. Choosing the colours, types of covers, and finally what to add into each book offers the opportunity to get lost in the process. I've given some as gifts to bless others and allow them to begin to jot down their own life journey, thoughts, and story. Others I have sold with the same intention of giving others an opportunity to use them for whatever purposes they choose including recording stories, collecting quotes or recipes, hiding away an encouraging note from a friend, or coming up with ways to use it I've never ever though of.  I've kept several for myself to use. One contains Bible verses that mean a lot to me, encouraging notes, and ephemera I want to keep. My one daughter uses hers as a gratitude journal.                        

 

The possibilities extend as far as the imagination takes us for using these journals. But whether we wander the aisles looking for a new journal or take the time to make one, one thing I know is that they need to be used to record moments to remember, questions you're searching an answer for, or simply being grateful for something today. Do you enjoy journaling? Have you ever made, been given, bought or used a junk journal? What might you put in one? Enjoy the process of keeping a journal whether daily or sporadically. It might surprise us all with the benefits it brings.                                                              

 

 

Carol Harrison loves to tell stories, read them, and share them with others so they can be encouraged and inspired to tell their own. She enjoys the creative endeavor of making the junk journals as well.                                                                     

 

 

 

 

Two Minutes Before Dawn

posted by Lynda Schultz

My father's birthday was this month. I remember him with love. This story I wrote several years ago in his memory.

"We all knew it was only a matter of time before night fell. The signs were unmistakable.

'His arteries are like lead pipes,' said the doctor. I had never seen the inside of a well-used lead pipe, so I could only imagine.

Everyone slows down with age, but the first time I noticed life was taking an irrevocable twist was when I caught him staring at me as though I were a perfect stranger.

Who are you, and what are you doing in my living room? He didn’t say it, but I could read it in his eyes, distant and puzzled.

In the beginning, the changes were subtle, causing concern but not panic. Later those changes would become more marked, sometimes frightening. Moments of madness when hours twisted. Morning became night. Night turned into afternoon. Anger and aggression kindled in his eyes. Some other person had taken possession of a man once irritatingly mild and meek. He would not have recognized himself, known himself. He would not have liked what he saw. I was glad he didn’t know.

In the early days and later, in those moments when dad returned to visit himself, he appreciated the humour of the situation. One afternoon he came home from his walk with his face all battered and bruised.

'What happened to you?' is a silly question to ask a man who doesn’t remember those seconds when the mind turns off. We asked anyway, to which he replied with the classic: 'You should see the other guy!' He didn’t always collapse from those mini-strokes. Usually he’d simply stand there, a blank look on his face as though he were far, far, away. Perhaps he was.

One Sunday, still dressed in his Sunday best, dad left the dinner table to go to the bathroom. He hadn’t been there long when we heard a loud thump and crash. I jumped up and ran. Dad was sitting sideways, rear in the bathtub, head resting against the wall, and feet waving in the air. He was laughing uproariously. He’d missed every sharp and potentially damaging object in our small bathroom—certainly a miracle in anyone’s book.

Public Health sent nurses in regularly to check on seniors still living alone in their own homes. I was visiting on one such occasion when the nurse came in to check blood pressures and to cut dad’s toenails. It was summer. The light was much better in the porch so they went out there. I followed. Something clicked in dad’s mind as the nurse worked on those yellowed, thickened, nails. He turned to me and smiled that impish smile that was a characteristic precursor to some quip.

'I’m tough,' he said proudly.

Yes you are, dad, I thought.

When he was growing up, everyone had to be tough. He’d had to leave school before finishing the eighth grade to help out on the family farm. He’d worked in an asbestos mine, fixed cars, and looked after his now growing family on the meager income of a unlicensed mechanic. There were no extras. We wore hand-me-downs, and didn’t have a car until dad managed to pick a cheap one up at a police auction—one he drove for the next twenty years. He loved us in his own quiet way, provided for us, disciplined us when we needed it, and was a faithful husband. For a man who had worked all his life, retirement was punishment. He soon returned to work, pumping gas in freezing cold weather until he was seventy-five years old.

However, it was back to his roots that dad returned during his last years. When it was no longer possible to look after him at home, he went to live in a nursing home. By then the lights of his mind were very dim, like the kerosene lamps of his childhood.

I found him fingering the hospital bracelet that he carried on his wrist.

'What’s that, Dad?' I asked.

He looked up with that same quirky smile that time never seemed to fade.

'Pa made it for me,' he said, fondness and pride lifting his voice. He was back on the homestead, surrounded by brothers and sister, mom and dad, rather than doctors, nurses, and strangers. He smelled freshly cut hay, not the odor of disinfectant and stale age. His mind was free even though it was confined to another time and another place.

It was twilight, the grayness before the night, and only two moments before eternal dawn."

Stretching - Janis Cox

I have had back problems in my past and I have learned that stretching is very good to keep those back muscles strong. The same goes for my mind. As I age I want to make sure that I keep as sharp as possible. To that end I try many tactics.

I have learned new skills. I started to watercolour about 15 years ago and each year my skills have grown. I also took pottery lessons, both hand building and on the wheel. And this winter I joined a tap dancing group. Three times a week I would go to the dance room and practice for over one hour. Learning each new step and then putting all the steps into a dance was a challenge that I thoroughly enjoyed.

All of these activities were stretching my mind – making new dendrites. “They form new synapses between neurons, which facilitates further learning … By stimulating our brain more intensively, a curious thing happens: The inter-connections between neurons increase by developing new dendrites” (Increasing Brain Power: by Alvin C. Roseyard).

In stretching my mind I feel younger. I will still have memory lapses but hopefully I can keep these to a minimum by working my brain.

This year I have also stretched my mind by learning Scripture. Ann Voskamp from A Holy Experience challenged her readers to learn Colossians in a Year. We are currently learning Chapter 2. I may not remember every verse word for word but once I start saying some of the Scripture the rest flows quite easily. Not only am I stretching my mind through this exercise but I am also stretching my soul.

Writing – a creative discipline. In the past year my goal has been to write more. I have started two blogs. One is called Under the Cover of Prayer and the other is A Better Way. I like the challenge of daily writing.

The discipline of stretching can work in many areas, mind, body and soul. We can now ask, “Have you stretched yourself today?”

Jan Cox has started two blogs, Under the Cover of Prayer and A Better Way. She is currently working on a children's book about the story of Mary and Martha. She has illustrated the book in watercolour.