Reflections on Beauty by Susan Barclay

  

She walks in beauty. [Pic from Pixabay]

Reflections on Beauty

Helen Keller

Blind, deaf, mute

Intelligent and inspiring

Reminds us that

The best and most beautiful things in the world

cannot be seen or even touched—

they must be felt with the heart.

Vincent Van Gogh

Depressed, intense, tormented

Masterful and expressive

Reminds us that

Great things are done

by a series of small things

brought together—

each one quiet, but necessary.

Lord Byron

Clubfooted, moody, and pale

Sensual and enduring

Reminds us that

There is pleasure in the pathless woods,

There is rapture on the lonely shore…

and meaning in wandering without certainty.

There is beauty in words, images, ideas

shaped by our minds

into something whole—

a body of work

made from fragments of thought.

There is beauty in living, laughter, and love,

in creativity, nature, and God,

beauty in sacrifice

and in healing,

even when neither is easy.

And so beauty is not distant,

not rare or reserved—

it is present

in everything we become

when we choose to notice it.

c. Susan Barclay, June 2026

_______________________

 

For more about Susan Barclay and her writing, please visit www.susan-barclay.blogspot.com

The Search for the Ideal Writing Spot by Steph Beth Nickel

 

a coffeeshop 

i wish

but the espresso machine

the buzz of conversation

the bell that sounds

every. single. time

the door opens

nope

not a coffeeshop

<sigh>

the park

i should be walking

i should be taking photos

i should have worn

bug spray

sunscreen

a hat

nope

not the park

<double sigh>

my desk

nonexistent

happens in the midst of renos

 in its place

couch that needs replacing

multipurpose couch

reading nook

dining area

location for napping

for now

the couch is it

my makeshift writing spot

ideal

far from it

but workable

temporary

a spot

to be grateful for

but maybe

just maybe

i'll give the coffeeshop

or even the park

another try

how about you

Steph Beth Nickel is the former Editor of FellowScript and the current InScribe Contest Coordinator. Steph is an editor and author and plans to relocate to Saskatchewan from Ontario to be close to family in this year or next. (Headshot Photo Credit: Jaime Mellor Photography)

Poem in a Box by Gloria Guest

“Cast your bread upon the waters:

for thou shall find it after many days." (Eccl 11:1)

I’ve always liked this verse in Ecclesiastes for its mysterious promise and unique suggestion. Biblical scholars suggest that it means to cast our service, generosity, gifts and talents out into the world to bless others and in some way, at some time God will bless that obedience and bring good back to us through it.

This past year I had an experience like this with a poem I had written twenty years ago and forgot about. Then one day; there it was, before a completely different audience than I had previous written it for. It was written for a man named Jim.

I felt that many people did not see who Jim really was and he needed to hear how God saw him and how I did. Jim had stepped into my life as a mentor, a friend and most importantly, a father figure. He was the closest person I had ever felt as a father, on this earth.

I’d forgotten it so completely that when Jim’s wife contacted me to see if she could have it framed and put up on his memorial table at his Celebration of Life, that I couldn’t even remember writing it. It was only when she sent it to me that it came back to me. She explained that Jim had tucked it away in a special box of mementos that were important to him. I was deeply touched and of course said, ‘Yes’ to setting it up on the table.

To add to my surprise, when I arrived at Jim’s memorial and was handed his funeral card, the poem was actually printed on the inside. It made me cry to think of just how much our words can mean to others, when we aren’t even aware. It also reminded me of how our words can come back to us years later, in the most unexpected of ways.

As writers we have the unique opportunity to reach into others hearts, to encourage them along their journeys, and to be blessed ourselves when some sign of the impact of those words that we had cast out upon the waters comes back to us, and we ourselves are blessed.

The Heart of a Good Samaritan

I wonder how he felt that day as he lay by the road,

His body bruised and bleeding, His nakedness exposed?
I wonder if he waited with longing in his heart,

For some kind soul to pass his way, With healing to impart?
Imagine how his heart despaired, when footsteps hurried by,

Belonging to religious men,

They’d left him there to die.
And then it was unthinkable, it couldn’t surely be,

A man who was Samaritan,

Was helping such as he?

With gentle care he bandaged wounds, poured oil on and wine,

And even took him to an inn,

And paid his every fine.
It’s really not so strange to see, it happens every day,

When people quickly pass on by, And leave the injured lay.
But God he searches to and fro for good Samaritans,

To send to hurt and wounded souls,

And be his feet and hands.
It’s not enough to simply say, I hope you’ll soon be well,

Or even say, I’ll pray for you, So sorry that you’re ill.
I’m sure if you were dying now and bleeding by the way,

You’d long for one to take the time,

And step out of their way.
The hearts of good Samaritans are precious, pure and few,

They’re people who don’t just rush on by,

But cross the road to you.

Thank you Jim, for crossing the road to me.

Gloria writes from a small town on the prairies of Southern Saskatchewan. She writes creative non-fiction, memoir, poetry, fiction & more. As a past reporter/columnist she has many articles published in various newspapers in the province. She's furthered her writing skills with classes in editing from Simon Fraser University & Creative Writing classes from the University of Toronto. Currently she has re-started her memoir and is starting up a writers group for youth in her town.

Reduction by Susan Barclay

 

Image by CongerDesign@Pixabay

                                                        

 

REDUCTION

 

In this season of caregiving

I am being reduced

Cooked, simmered, evaporated

A concentrated version of myself

 

Who am I now?

I am daughter

I am mother

I am wife

 

Who am I?

What is this new flavour?

This new texture?

This new consistency?

 

I seek more of Him and less of me

Holy Spirit, come

I am jellied and trembling

When I am weak, I am strong

 

Give me this day love, joy, peace

Patience, kindness, goodness

Faithfulness, gentleness, self-control

Teach me Your ways

 

Make me lie down in green pastures

Lead me beside quiet waters

Restore my soul

Fill me with Your sacred rest

 

In this pressure cooker, sautéed

I become saltier for Christ

Taste and see that the Lord is good

His mercies are new every morning

 

This is my desire

To spend time in God’s stock pot

Take up less volume in the world

And enhance its flavour

 

Father, You are the Master Chef

The 3-star Michelin

Make of me what You will

I am Your creation

_______________________________

c. Susan Barclay, 2025. For more about Susan and her writing, please visit www.susan-barclay.blogspot.com 

 

 

Challenge Given by Carol Harrison

When I began writing, I only wrote non-fiction memoir style stories and one book. It became my comfort zone. I had no intention of branching out into other genres. Then one of my grandsons challenged me to try and write fiction – any type. He didn’t give up on checking on me. I decided to accept his challenge and attempt to write a fiction book. I did it.

Now I had two genres to play around with and I thought that would be the end of the story. I would work on the craft, learn what I could, and hopefully continue to improve. Then one of my granddaughters challenged me to attend a poetry writing workshop with her at our local library. I went with her and discovered we wouldn’t just learn about poetry but be expected to write some. I didn’t think I could fulfill this part of the challenge but what do you do but try as a grandchild waits for you to step up and keep trying.

Now maybe my family could be satisfied with the diversity of my writing. I continued to attempt more poetry, write several fiction books, as well as more memoir style stories and devotionals. I thought that should be an acceptable range.

But before my husband passed away he threw out several challenges. One was a memoir style story. Okay. I had written that genre before. But the other one would be new. He challenged me to write a Love Inspired style romance novel.

I enjoy the light reading of this style of books and had read many of them over the years. Now with Brian’s challenge fresh in my mind, I signed out stories from the library and curled up to read for pleasure and for research. I went to the guidelines for writing and submitting these stories and studied them carefully. I joined the Facebook group Write for Harlequin and found feedback from others who were published and those, like me, who might try and one day have a Love Inspired book. The writing guidelines provided the accepted formula they are looking for in each book, the word count, and the types of stories they are seeking.

Could I actually attempt this? Should I accept the challenge thrown out to me? I must admit to wanting to forget the challenge and yet it kept coming up in conversation. I started a story and finished a few chapters before getting stuck. I researched some more and came back to write a little more. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded and I put it away just before my husband passed away. I must admit it sits on my computer, unfinished. I haven’t looked at it in two years. Maybe it’s long enough to see it with fresh eyes. Will it ever get further than sitting on my computer? It depends on what the finished product is like, whether I choose to submit it or not. For now it is a venture into a new genre I had never written in before. Maybe this blog post theme will push me to go back to the waiting story and see where I’m at with it. Challenges can be good for a person. It moves them out of their comfort zone. I know it has me over the years.

Carol Harrison loves to do the reading more than writing in a different genre. Yet the research aspect of the reading is great fun. Her favourite chair at her home in Saskatoon begs for someone to curl up with a good book, a fun story, or something to make a person think. 
 

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.

P is for Poetry by Steph Beth Nickel

it may sound cliche

it may sound self-righteous

it may sound unbelievable

but I remember the first time

i heard it

sitting in the audience

listening

learning

interesting perspective

in response to the comment

i’m doing fine

under the circumstances

the man was asked

what he was doing

under the circumstances

if we are followers of Jesus Christ

we have already been raised with him

therefore

in a real sense

we are not under our circumstances

does that mean we don’t hurt

suffer loss

get disheartened

become confused

deal with doubt and dark times

absolutely not

as a hurting child is

gathered into their father’s arms

God is there

to hold us close

for believers

though life isn’t always easy

we can rest

knowing

we need not dwell

under the circumstances

I originally wrote this poem in 2011.

Patricia MacLachlan and Poetry by Joylene M Bailey

 

I know I've said this before: Patricia MacLachlan is one of my favourite authors. You may be familiar with her book Sarah, Plain and Tall, for which she won the Newbery Medal. It was produced as a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie in 1991, starring Glenn Close and Christopher Walken. 

The movie is wonderful. The book is brilliant.

In an interview, MacLachlan once said that she wanted to create an intense emotional experience for the reader using very few words. It's because she's a genius at saying so much with so little that I love her work.

All the Places to Love (above) is the most beautiful children's book I've come across. Her words are spare, but enough to settle into your heart.

When I was older, Papa and I plowed the fields.

Where else is soil so sweet? he said.

Once Papa and I lay down in the field, holding hands,

And the birds surrounded us:

Raucous black grackles, redwings,

Crows in the dirt that swaggered like pirates.

When we left, Papa put a handful of dirt in his pocket.

I did too.

It reads like poetry. And I think that's why, years ago, I decided to take poetry classes. I wanted to learn to be less wordy, to write tight, to make words sizzle. With poetry, every word speaks. And isn't that what makes poetry profound?

Please allow me to share some snippets from poems I've recently savoured. I dare you not to be affected or astounded by at least one phrase. 

No, no, there is no going back

Less and less you are 

that possibility you were.

More and more you have become 

those lives and deaths

that have belonged to you.

...

Every day you have less reason

not to give yourself away.

- Wendell Berry [1993-I]

*****

The work of the world is common as mud.

Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.

But the thing worth doing well done

has shape that satisfies, clean and evident.

- Marge Piercy [To be of use]

*****

This day is all that is

good and fair.

It is too dear

with its hopes and invitations, 

to waste a moment on yesterdays.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson [From a Letter to His Daughter]

*****

Was it for this I uttered prayers,

And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs,

That now, domestic as a plate,

I should retire at half-past eight?

- Edna St. Vincent Millay [Grown Up]

*****

The birds have vanished down the sky

Now the last cloud drains away.

We sit together, the mountain and me,

until only the mountain remains.

- Li Po [Zazen on Ching-t'ing Mountain]

*****

I'm so thankful for authors and poets who worked hard on their craft, with purpose and dedication, so that someday this reader would be touched and inspired by their words. I can only hope to do the same.

~~~~~

Feature photo by Joy Bailey

Joy lives and writes in lake country, Alberta, where she resides on three pretty little acres with The Cowboy, a couple of seniors, and a couple of pets. Her latest story was a bedtime one for the grands, about a purple horse named Secret, and her turtle friend, Lightning Bolt. Find more of her joy-infused writing at her blog, Scraps of Joy.

Noticing Nuances ~ Valerie Ronald

 

I keep this poem in my writing files to remind me to look for the nuances, subtle shades and depths in the commonplace with potential to blossom into inspiration.
 

Valentine for Ernest Mann       by Naomi Shihah Nye

You can’t order a poem like you order a taco.

Walk up to the counter, say, “I’ll take two”

And expect it to be handed back to you

on a shiny plate.

Still, I like your spirit.

Anyone who says, “Here’s my address,

write me a poem,” deserves something in reply.

So I’ll tell you a secret instead:

poems hide.    In the bottoms of our shoes,

they are sleeping.    They are the shadows

drifting across our ceilings the moment

before we wake up.    What we have to do

is live in a way that lets us find them.

Once I knew a man who gave his wife

two skunks for a valentine.

He couldn’t understand why she was crying.

“I thought they had such beautiful eyes,”

And he was serious.    He was a serious man

who lived in a serious way.    Nothing was ugly

just because the world said so. He really

liked those skunks.   So, he re-invented them

as valentines and they became beautiful.

At least, to him.    And the poems that had been

    hiding

in the eyes of skunks for centuries

crawled out and curled up at his feet.

Maybe if we re-invent whatever our lives give us

we find poems.    Check your garage, the odd

    sock

in your drawer, the person you almost like, but

not quite.

And let me know.

   ***
I think this poem is telling us something we all know as writers. Our readers may think writing ideas come from the fascinating and adventurous lives of writers but few of us lead such lives. The truth is, we as writers have a certain way of looking at the world around and within us, seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary ˗˗ a story behind the mundane. As the poem says, what we have to do is live in a way that lets us find them. By looking for subtle nuances in small, everyday circumstances and scenarios we find ideas to fill volumes.

What this poem doesn’t tell us is that as writers who are Christians, we have a Divine Inspirer. God is the Master Creator. Everything in this vast universe came from His infinite mind and hand. Being made in His image, we have a small share in that creativity. We have unlimited resources for writing ideas everywhere we look, but how we look is inspired by our heavenly Father.

I will give you hidden treasures and wealth tucked away in secret places; I will reveal them to you. Then you will know that I am the Eternal, the God of Israel, who calls you by name. (Isa. 45:3 The Voice)  

I have found that going to the Revealer, asking Him to make known what He would have me write, eventually results in what I call a shining moment ˗˗ that moment when I see something in a new way, when the seed of an idea blooms suddenly in my mind and I can’t wait to develop it in writing. He never fails me.

Writing is a shy craft. Ideas flit through our heads at the oddest moments, in the strangest places, waking us from a sound sleep in the middle of the night, requiring a notebook close by for us to capture random inspirations for possible writing projects. That surge of adrenaline when an idea hits is God speaking, telling us, “Here! I am revealing to you the wealth tucked away in secret places! Be aware of the nuances here, with subtle shades of meaning and depth. Write it down and use it well, My child.”

Keep looking for the poems hiding in the eyes of skunks, waiting to curl up at your feet. 

    

Valerie Ronald writes from an old roll top desk in Portage la Prairie, Manitoba, with her tortoiseshell cat for a muse. A graduate of Langara College School of Journalism, she writes devotionals, fiction and inspirational prose. Her purpose in writing is to encourage others to grow in their spiritual walk.

 

Never Ever Ever Give Up by Steph Beth Nickel

 

as writers, as believers, as humans

we must persevere

sometimes life (and our writing)

seem to flow smoothly, unhindered

and then...

we round a bend

and the path reaches for the sky

a steep incline

loose rocks

rickety steps

we prefer

even ground, sure footing, a moss-covered path

but the challenging sections

this is where we grow strong

we learn to press on

we learn to reach out to others

more importantly

we learn to reach out to God

is your life

an uphill climb

is your faith wavering

and your endurance at its limits

have the words stopped flowing

are you ready to put down your pen

consider the words you've read

the words that have encouraged you

spurred you on

built you up

did they come from a place of ease or

did the writer dig deep

did your fellow creative

reach inside and share their heart

the hurt, the pain, the challenge

of what it means to be human

we must follow their example

we must take the next step

we must never ever ever give up

Just Write by Steph Beth Nickel

 

i have no time to write

i say

my work is piling up

i have no time to write

i say

life overflows my cup

Just write!

i have no time to write

i say

with family, friends, and more

i have no time to write

i say

with all that is instore

Just write!

i have no time to write

i say

the days are marching on

i have no time to write

i say

another week is gone

Just write!

i have no time to write

i say

so much else to do

i have no time to write

i say

but is it really true

Just write!

i do have time to write

i say

i'll focus day or night

i do have time to write

i say

and tell myself...

Just write!

Take Me Away: A Poem about Genre by Steph Beth Nickel

Inspiration for this poem came from John Truby, who wrote The Anatomy of Genres.

 

Carry me off to worlds unknown, of dragons and hobbits and fae,

To planets and worlds beyond our own; oh, what a marvelous day!

 

Tell me the stories of worlds began, where darkness and light compete,

Or stories of ranchers way out west who never admit defeat.

 

Show me the heroes battling crime—detectives, PIs, and more,

Let me see from the other side what happens behind closed doors.

 

Make me laugh and make me gasp; I’m on the edge of my chair,

I love to be breathless and laugh out loud; a story can take me there.

 

They’re growing up and finding out who they’re meant to be,

Now looking back at what has been, of what they now can see.

 

What motivates and drives us on; what makes the story shine?

No matter what genre, it’s all about love, love of many kinds.

 

Stories may take us far away or take us deep inside,

The best of them will help us grow while on an incredible ride.

D is for Dilly-Dally by Brenda J. Wood

 

I wish I could, I know I won’t.

My pencil dull indeed.

My laptop slow and lingering,

Sadly not up to speed.

 

I want to write. I wish I would. 

No paper in my file.

The kids are wild and yelling.

My hair needs a better style.

 

So book deal rests upon my heart.

I wish I could. I know its cost.

My fingers twitch. The book is gone.

World’s masterpiece is lost.

Brenda J. Wood has authored more than fifty books. She is a seasoned motivational speaker, who declares the Word of God with wisdom, humour, and common sense.

B is for Bible by Susan Barclay

 B is for Bible

 

Inspired Word

God-breathed

Teaching

Rebuking

Correcting

Training

 

Within its cover, stories

 

 Rags to riches

The difficult quest

Rebirth

Overcoming

Comedy

Tragedy

The voyage and return

 

Within its stories, conflict        

 

Man versus man

Versus God

Versus nature

Man versus self

Versus technology

Versus fate

 

Within its pages, images

 

 

A kingly authority

A warrior

A lowly peasant

A thief

Fire, clouds, storms at sea

Bread, wine, fish

A crown, a cross

And silver coins

 

The Word is Truth

The Word’s the Way

The Word is Life

The Word is His Story

History

Written for you

And for me

 

Holy Spirit

Breathe on me

Words of life

Loving

Encouraging

Healing

Serving

 

Holy Father

As I read

Help me see

And understand

And model

Teach me to write

And reach

 

Soli Deo Gloria

____________________

For more about Susan Barclay and her writing, please visit her blog: https://susan-barclay.blogspot.com/