Balance or Rhythm by Lorilee Guenter

"By The Book" photo by Bruce Guenter

Balance is a myth created to keep me from embracing the rhythms of life . Ecclesiastes 3:1 opens with "there is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens." The list of opposites brings to mind the old playground teeter-totter. If the opposing individuals were similar weight, it was possible to get the teeter-totter to balance as a straight beam. More often the partners couldn't hold the balance due to weight differences. One partner would be pushed up while the other dropped down. The goal of a teeter-totter is to keep it in motion. The achievement of balance halted motion.

Instead of chasing balance, I'm working to create movement, and rhythm. Sometimes the movement is rapid, other times it is a languid motion that takes attention to recognize, like the slow movement through winter. We mark time through seasons, through months, weeks, and days. In some places it may seem like the entire range of weather happens at once. We hear the saying: All four seasons in one week, or one day," yet even during these times we're not experiencing January and July simultaneously. It is either January or it is July.

There's a time and a season for every activity. We are tearing down or we are building up (v.3); we are silent or we are speaking (v.7). If we talk strictly about balance, it lends itself to an absurd reference to ratios. If we speak 50% of the time we should be silent 50% of the time, just like January and July each have 31 days. They hold equal weight within the year. What happens when God calls us to speak up, or write, and we've already used up our 50% of speech for the week? What if a friend, neighbour, or acquaintance needs us to just listen instead of us interjecting our own thoughts. I recognize I've taken these on these to an extreme. No one expects us to count the minutes we speak versus those we are silent. No one tries to live January and July in alternating days. Instead I am learning to lean into a rhythm of seasons. With a rhythm I progress through alternating activity, emotion, responsibility, hopes, and dreams, each in their own time. I learn to give them the space they need. Sometimes I walk through them in a straight line. Sometimes, like with the weather, it seems like they all happen in a day. There is no prescribed timeline. There's movement. If the season of grief is heavy, like the larger teeter-totter partner, it may take extra time to get to the dancing (v.4). The encouragement in these verses is that the dancing will come. Seasons change, in life as with the weather.

As I walk through this life I have been given, I'm learning to recognize my rhythms. They may not be the same rhythm as what God has given you, but he is walking with both of us. Ecclesiastes 3:11a "he has made everything beautiful in its time." Everything is known by God. Everything has a season, even when I can't see it. In the middle of the tears I want laughter because I don't like to cry. I can take courage from the fact the tears won't last. They have their season. I'm thankful that God knows what we need each season, each activity, and each day.

My writing seasons, my organizing seasons, my gardening seasons, and my life seasons all have a rhythm. Sometimes I notice them and sometimes I don't. My life season is in transition. The girls are adults and now need a different type of energy and presence from me than they did while growing up. My writing, my hobbies, and my studies no longer need to occupy the margins of life. Whether in the margins or not, my writing has times of reflection and times of action. Sometimes I want to linger in reflection even when God is calling me to the action of putting words on the page. Sometimes I want to rush ahead. I continue to learn that whether I'm laughing or crying, reflecting or writing, God is in the season with me. He is leading me from shadow to light. No matter the season, I can be confident of His presence and His leading.

Lorilee Guenter enjoys gardening, reading and more. During the summer, her and her husband Bruce often hit the nearby trails. He carries a camera. She carries a sketchbook.

Seasons and Change by Mary Folkerts

 

There is a change in the air, the morning feels a bit crisper, the smells of the ripening harvest warm in the lingering golden sun. The calendar tells me that summer is wrapping up and fall is taking its place. It doesn't ask if I am ready; it just comes when it comes.

Seasons are like that. They don't wait for our permission to shift from one to the next. They slide past whether we have had our fill or not. Where I live, seasons are usually quite recognizable when we're smack dab in the middle of them, with their snowy winters and hot summers, shy springs and colourful autumns. It's the transitions from one season to the next that can sometimes be tricky to gauge.

Life, too, has its many seasons, some soft and easy like spring, new with possibilities. Others, like winter, we resist for their harsh, unforgiving ways. But always, they come as sure as the rising sun. Some we see coming from a distance, gently, and expected. Others come in swiftly like a too-early snowstorm.

My parents received a phone call the other week, which threw them into a new season without much forewarning. They are now trying to wrap their minds around assisted living after a lifetime of independence. And oh, how we struggle with change, even in the twilight of our years! Though we have experienced change at every stage of life, it never seems to get easier!

We love what we know, even if it's difficult, because the difficult we know feels safer than the unknown. As I write, I gaze out on the corn field standing tall in the evening sun. The season of planting is long gone, and the season of growing is coming to an end. Soon, the harvest will be upon us, and lastly, the season where the soil rests. Each season for a purpose, as God has ordained it to be good.

Can we recognize each season of life as for our good? Can we see the season of waiting as beneficial to growing our reliance on God's timing? Can we view the desert season as a time when we trust God's presence, even when we can't feel it? Can we trust the God of the seasons to give us all we need in our seasons of change?

Seasons and change
like the falling leaves
and the spent flower
leave a sadness
with their
fading
beauty.

Change is hard
unfamiliar and
uncertain--
with a dirge of
lament we resist
the becoming.
“Let’s just always stay
The same!”
But without change
comes
deadness.

And what if it’s not
the end
but the beginning
of a new story,
unwritten and
unscripted?
A new season
with beauty
unexpected?

I can be sad
that it’s over
or I can smile that it happened.
I can dig in my heels
or march bravely on
into change.
Either way
it will
come.

And as the God of
the seasons
designs spring to
follow winter,
so he allows the
seasons of change
in our lives
for our growing
and becoming.

For change is the medium
in which a seed of faith
has the opportunity
to grow and
flourish
into something
beautiful.

Mary Folkerts is mom to four kids and wife to a farmer, living on the southern prairies of Alberta, where the skies are large and the sunsets stunning. She is a member of Proverbs 31 Ministries' COMPEL Writers Training, involved in church ministries and music. Mary’s blog aims to encourage and inspire women and advocate for those with Down Syndrome, as their youngest child introduced them to this extraordinary new world. For more inspiration, check out Joy in the Small Things https://maryfolkerts.com/ or connect on Instagram https://www.instagram.com/maryfolkerts/

 

Seasons of Life: Then and Now by Alan Anderson

 

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NIV)


Writing prompt: Write about a season you are currently experiencing or have experienced. How did God meet your needs during this season? How did it affect your writing life?

 

Now and Then

The seasons of our lives, the blessings and crushing challenges all make up our stories.

A couple of weeks ago, while preparing this month’s blog post, I listened to music on YouTube. Lo-and-behold I found a recent video of a new song by The Beatles, the favourite band of my youth and even today. The song’s title is Now and Then. The video is a masterpiece of today’s technological wonders.

The Now and Then video calls me back to a season in life when my beloved parents were alive and well. This was a season when I was in the grips of my high school years and determining where I fit into the world. I now look back on my younger years and ask, where did the years, the seasons, go?

Seasons Change

Life has been heavy at times and strewn with the lashes of storms amid cloud-covered seasons. Seasons when the storms of life crushed my soul, such as my two-year period of ministry burnout and the years when my father, then my mother, entered heaven.

The year 2019 brought a season of clouds, a season that lasted for two years. As one who loves nature, it was as if the clouds were at war with the sun. This was like a dark season, where trees bowed in despair and dropped their leaves in a forever winter. I viewed life as a mountain, where brambles and thorns covered the road to heaven. Such a long road. The Enemy tried to convince me God had forsaken me and left me alone.

I thank the Lord that cloudy seasons give way to seasons of warmth, where the sun breaks through. What I must also remember is that God is in the storms and I am not alone.

A Season to Write

This reality of cloudy seasons, however, allowed me to keep on writing. This was no act of valor but an expression of faith.

My mind records the year 2015 as the year my writing took flight. Our beloved Tracy Krauss asked me to write for our InScribe blog, and I have been contributing to the blog ever since. Not long after this tremendous honour, my dear friend Glynis M. Belec gave me an opportunity to contribute to a book on grief. In 2017, the publisher released the book Good Grief People.

Now, in the autumn of my life, I work at laying aside the weight and clearing the brambles of my past. In this season, I pray to God I can publish at least a couple of writing projects before my pen dries up.

Dear readers, please allow me to suggest that one’s cloudy seasons help one nurture and confirm a call to write. One can release words into the world; with prayers they help others.

When the winter of life comes upon me, I will look forward to one day knocking on heaven’s door and being ushered into the presence of God. I will then know beyond all doubt that all the seasons of life worked together for good.

Concluding Thoughts

Dear friends, we may experience seasons of life with huggable embraces while others we wish we could run from. These times, both blessing and suffering, are all part of the life God has granted to us. May we all stay faithful and endure the times, the seasons, we experience as we live this life.

Our seasons of life all lead to heaven. When we reach the place where God is, we will know this life was worth all we had to endure. Come, Lord Jesus, come!

Alan lives in a small village called Deroche, British Columbia, with his wife, Terry, and their poodle, Charlie. He enjoys walking on the dike near his home with trees all around and where he finds inspiration to write. He occasionally writes articles for FellowScript Magazine and is a regular contributor to the InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship blog. Alan’s website and blog is https://scarredjoy.ca.

Seasons by Lorilee Guenter

 

Winter, spring, summer, fall. 

Which is your favourite season? I do not have an answer to that question. Each season has its draws and its drawbacks. But how can you like {season}? The chosen season to hate on is usually winter with its bone-chilling cold.

I like the crisp, clear days where the air sparkles with tiny, suspended drops of moisture. I enjoy brewing a mug of tea or hot chocolate, grabbing a blanket, and experiencing the quiet that cold seems to produce. I recognise the period of dormancy nature undergoes during winter. In time, unseen life will make its presence known.

I enjoy spring where each day brings something new as the white turns to muddy brown, then one by one plants push through until the whole palette is visible. Just as an artist places one brush stroke and then another, God wakes up the plants in order.

Summer shines with its long days of abundance. Some days it seems like you can see the plants grow as they stretch and bloom. I wander through my yard almost daily and delight in the changes.

Autumn brings crumbly leaves that I must step on to hear the satisfying crunch.  Trees take on vibrant hues as the flowers fade. A new coolness brings a reprieve from the heat. Vegetable soups simmer in place of summer salads.

While I have learned to enjoy all of the seasons, the lessons learned have not transferred to my writing life. Seasons of dormancy frustrate me. Intellectually I know this is a time of pondering. The ideas simmer beneath the surface waiting for the appropriate time to sprout. The seasons of abundance leave me scrambling as I try to bring my thoughts into order. I find myself longing for a slower pace. How quickly the frustration of the drought disappears. 

During summer, my writing slows. I am pulled outside by many activities. This year, I am trying to embrace the change. I trust the experiences will give rise to a new season of wordplay. It always does. And why wouldn't it? God has always been faithful not matter the season. He won't change now.

This summer I am attempting to embrace the season of rest in my creative life. I am choosing to let God refresh my soul. The writing continues at a slow pace. In between, I savour the tart juice of a raspberry just plucked from a plant. I pause to listen to the birdsong. I smile in gratitude at God's creation. Come fall I expect to pick up my pen with more frequency as God stirs the well of ideas and breathes life into new works. It is His way, for me at least.

I would like to look at my creative seasons as I do the created seasons. Each has a purpose. Each year I am able to reflect a little more and in doing so, I recognise God's hand in each moment. They are gifts from Him. In His hands, I flourish in a healthy, sustainable way.

Lorilee Guenter lives in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. She likes to experiment with plants, paint and words. Curiosity and creativity lead to many unexpected endeavors.

Seasons of Purpose by Bob Jones

The prompt for August is: Write about a season you are currently experiencing or have experienced. How did it affect your writing life?

Depending on where you live, the seasons in Canada will be shorter or longer, harsh or gentle or unique to the area’s character. In Edmonton we have two seasons: winter and construction. I imagined that was a westerner’s sense of humour until our family of four moved to Edmonton thirty-five years ago. That’s how I now describe our seasons. In eighteen months from now, Alberta will be the place I have lived more than half my life. I feel like an Albertan. Growing up in Ontario, I never paid my province of birth any mind. I was Canadian. Still am. Forever Canadian.

Politics and Hockey 

Alberta is an interesting place to live and write about. It feels like we are either under construction by the latest government misplay, or we are in winter in June, cheering on McDavid and the Oilers and feeling sorry for the Flames. I would write about politics, or politicians but everyone takes their politics very seriously in Alberta, almost as seriously as they take their hockey.

Edmonton bleeds copper and blue or orange. And there was a lot of blood the last two years in the Stanley Cup finals. 

Ukraine

At this time in my writing life, all things Ukraine are in season. 

 

It’s embarrassing to admit that I thought the war with Russia started on February 24, 2022. Sadly, this was the beginning of my education in Ukrainian history. The Russian invasion of Crimea and the eastern regions of the country in 2014 was the start of the war. How was I oblivious to that for eight years? I know Ukrainians. I pastored Ukrainians. I was invited to go to Ukraine on missions trips numerous times. None of that clicked with me. I must have been focused on Alberta politics and hockey. 

 

Now, three humanitarian trips to Ukraine in 18 months doesn’t feel enough.

Jocelyn came with me on a seven-week trip in June and July. The trip coincided with Russia’s change of tactics. June set the record for drone attacks and July exceeded it. There is no safe place in Ukraine. 

 

People were impressed that Jocelyn was eager to deliver food further towards Russia than any Canadian woman since 2022. And she did it with a smile. Our friends assured us that just being with people in the war was 90% of the benefit of us going. “People send their prayers and promises to come after the war but having someone leave a peaceful country in the summer and come to us is a priceless gift. Thank you.” The pleasure and privilege were all ours. It hardly seems enough.

Purposeful Writing 

I recently sat with a political science professor from one of our Canadian Universities. He’s a bit younger than me. His heritage is Czech where two generations of his family suffered as anti-communists. He resonates with what Ukraine is going through. We talked about how, at our ages, using our skill and experience to draw attention to the injustices against Ukraine is highly purposeful. Ukrainians are engaged in the largest and most deadly war in Europe in 80 years. 

 

There has never been a more needed moment in my lifetime for advocacy than now. I am Canadian. Canadians stand up and fight together for the freedom of others.

 

I am in a season of writing about children, churches, the trauma of war, Canadian generosity, and faith in Ukraine.

Thank you for reading. There is more at REVwords.com

Spring in Autumn by Lorrie Orr

 

This month's prompt asks us to think about seasons. Just as the created world experiences the cycle of seasons, so do humans. There are springs when fresh newness bursts within you, times of drought when all seems futile, autumns of abundance, and winters when cold austerity threatens to overwhelm. Write about a season you are currently experiencing or have experienced. How did God meet your needs during this season? How did it affect your writing life?

Blackberries hang heavy and sweet on invasive vines in every neglected school yard corner, along the streets, and in sunny open fields. Full of flavour, they make wonderful jams and sauces, and I freeze some for winter cobblers. Blackberry season reminds me of the day when I was about 12, visiting my grandparents. My grandmother invited me and my sister to go berry picking with her. I, engrossed in a book, declined. My sister went and had a marvelous time. I am not merely reminded of the regret of an afternoon with my grandmother. I am reminded of the passing of seasons and of my life. Of the loss of childhood. My life is rich and full but now, in the Autumn of my life, I want to savor the sweetness of the moments with my family, to reach past the thorns to find the juicy heart of the best.

Seasons relate to the movement of the earth in the solar system, but also to human life. Infants change to toddlers, then children, then teenagers, young adults, middle-age, young old age, and finally, old age. There are wanted and unwanted seasons of life. Sometimes our inner season does not line up with the external one. Winters can come suddenly, without warning in the midst of a summer season when all seems well. Several years ago I wrote on the InScribe blog about a winter of the soul, cold and dark. I am so glad that season has passed. 

There is a scene in Pride and Prejudice (2005) where Elizabeth Bennett (Kiera Knightly) sits on a swing in her yard. As she slowly moves back and forth, the seasons twirl around her. It's a cinematic effect I find so lovely, evoking the passing of time. In Genesis 8 God promises that "while the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, winter and summer, and day and night shall not cease." Each season brings its own beauty, opportunities, and challenges.  

Chronologically I am now in my autumn years (can it really be?). Yet I feel energy springing up in me to try new things, to publish a book or two, to dedicate myself to learning new skills, to garden with dedication, and to embrace activities I may previously not have made time for. I'm embracing this season, thankful for a healthy body and mind. Retirement means that I must be intentional about what I want to accomplish, making the most of the days given to me. I want to do that without panic and desperation, but in quietness of soul, trusting God to help me. In his poem Ode to Autumn Keats called this a "season of mist and mellow fruitfulness", filled with "all fruit with ripeness to the core." The fruit of the life I have lived is ripening now, perhaps in a process contrary to the earthly world, setting seed for newness once again. 

Lorrie Orr writes from Victoria, BC where she enjoys life with her husband and hopes that there is always a bit of springtime in her life. 

  

 

S is for Seasons by Carol Harrison

 

“There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens.” Ecc. 3:1 NIV

There are seasons for various aspects of writing and in our lives in general. Spring evokes pictures of rebirth and renewal. In our writing this can be a time of gathering ideas, dropping them into the soil of written word and see what germinates. This spring, one of my daughters planted some sweet pea seeds into two different containers. One is still bare ground but the other has young plants growing up, reaching for the sun. So too some of our ideas will grow and develop while others will remain a seed of an idea.

Summer is a time for plants to grow and mature, to develop their produce. We water and weed, cultivate around them and prune what is unnecessary to help them have the best opportunity for full maturity. In our writing the summer season can be seen as the time of developing those ideas. Maybe, if we are writing a novel, we write outlines, character sketches, plot ideas, and check out the backstories we need to understand our characters and story line. It is a season of work to help our ideas become a story, devotional, poem, or essay.

In the fall we harvest our crops and garden produce. We can and freeze, cook and bake to come up with a finished product to enjoy. In our writing we need to take that finished manuscript and do the hard work of preparing it to go out to others. We tackle the dreaded task of editing. Pruning away unnecessary words and sentences, tightening up our characters, our wording, and our scenes. Then we can submit it for consideration or self publish a book. We see the rewards of the hard work of three seasons of writing life.

But then comes winter. It is a time of resting and waiting. The world lies dormant in the winter waiting for the warmth of spring In our writing and in life it can be a tough season where ideas seem to flee away and we don’t have the time or ability to work out other ideas we might have jotted down.

These writing seasons don’t necessarily coincide with the seasons of the calendar. They happen at various times. Right now the sun is shining and we are under a heat warning and yet in my writing and in my life, I am in a winter season filled with grieving and some health issues. Writing takes a back seat and very little gets accomplished. Ideas in my notebooks stay hidden away. Pieces already written or begun wait for a time I have the motivation to begin working on them once again.

It is a time where discouragement sets in easily as I look at what I am not accomplishing instead of remembering it is okay to have a time to rest and wait. God’s timing is always right on time and I just need to listen to his leading.

When the discouragement sets in during this winter season, I look at favourite Scripture passages like Isaiah 43: 1-3a NIV

1.     But now this is what the Lord says… “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

2.     When you pass through the waters, I will be with you and when you pass through the rivers they will not sweep over you; and when you pass through the fire you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.

 For I am the Lord our God, the Holy One of Israel, your Saviour…”

Even in this winter season a few ideas force their way to the surface. I jot them down and wait for spring to eventually come. 

Carol Harrison is not a gardener but has learned from listening to others talk about planting, growth, and harvesting enough to have some of it stick. She does enjoy reading at any season of life and spending time with family and friends. 

 

 

 

 

 

Seasons, Nature, and Writing Rituals by Alan Anderson

 

Daily Ritual to Begin My Day

Before breakfast or anything else my wife and I begin each day with morning prayers, Scripture reading, and brief meditation from our Orthodox Saints. In our faith walk this is a constant never missed unless because of illness or an emergency. If one of us is ill the other carries on with our morning ritual while the other listens and prays.

 

My Morning Writing Ritual

My writing, “ritual,” changes from time to time, even from day to day. Here is the reason. I mentioned in my blog post of February 20, 2021, my challenge with extreme obstructive sleep apnea. https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/37258556/1460840901707753563 This challenge continues to this day although my memory and concentration improved somewhat since I began using a C-Pap machine.

 

A diagnosis of sleep apnea has given me a relief to know what has been going on with me. I am now aware of how I can maximize my writing energy to be productive and lucid. These days I may write anywhere from three to five hours in a day. The earlier in the morning I begin the more I can concentrate. Through self-experimentation I have found if I neglect to use my C-PAP machine my writing energy is lower. The lesson? Use my C-PAP machine every night.

 

 

Part of my ritual when I write is to do so for thirty minutes then take a five-minute break. This helps me minimize distractions like when my mind tries to lure me to another project. Okay, here is where it might strike you as odd. I do a lot of self-talk when I write. Yes, my secret is now out. I talk to myself when I want to make sure I use the correct words for a sentence or paragraph. For instance, as I was writing this paragraph, I had a little argument with myself to decide whether to let out my secret. Not a giant tiff, just a wee discussion before I continued.

 

 

For the most part I focus on poetry. As I wrote in my Feb. 20, 2021, blog post, “I find poetry is easier to focus on. While concentration continues to be a struggle, I can write at least one poem draft per week. I turned to poetry in hopes not only to sharpen my writing skills but also aid in my concentration.” This is still the case although my concentration is better than in early 2021.

 

 

Nature & Writing Ritual.

I am blessed to live in an area surrounded by mountains, farms, the Fraser River, and flocks of wild birds. I can access all this nature by walks on the dike five minutes away. This is natural relief for writer’s block or when my mind needs a break. Walks on the dike mean I can formulate or even rewrite poems in my head. My concentration is more like a friend when I walk the dike.

 

 

Spring/Autumn and My Writing Ritual

I love spring and with this season my writing ritual goes into high gear. I do not know what it is about spring, but with its appearance I feel energized even more to write. I also love autumn and its soft caresses as breezes become a pal to hang out with.

 

 

I thank God for the words I write. I thank Him for the ability to write. I thank Him for my rituals of writing. May my words be eager to care for and bless the world.

 

 

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.

Seasons of Rest by Lorilee Guenter

 

Parched, like a drought stricken land, the ideas sit half formed. They wait for a gentle rain to grow and burst into bloom. This summer my yard has been parched. I've tried to keep some of it watered using an often empty rain barrel and a garden hose. It is not the same as a gentle rain for creating summer abundance. So too the landscape of my mind has felt dry. I've tried to keep pieces of creativity alive, watering them with walks in God's creation, praise music and more. It is not the same as a season of creative abundance.

I recently realised there is a pattern, a rhythm, to my creative year, just as there is a rhythm to the seasons. In nature, winter is a season of dormancy, a season of rest. The perennials rest under sheets of leaves and blankets of snow. They are not dead. They await their next season of growth. Summer is my season of creative dormancy. The abundant colour, sights and sounds of the garden pull me outside. Trails entice us to take a hike. They refresh. Like a houseplant flowering in January, there are glimpses of the season to come. 

Many times I have tried to force the season of abundant creativity to continue, just as I tried this year to overcome the drought. It does not work. Rest and renewal are necessary pieces of life. Without them we struggle and wither. But God does not leave us there. He walks with us, caring for us, as He tends to our needs as the Master Gardener, the Loving Father.

As summer gives way to fall, I notice the ideas start to sprout. The time of rest starts to give way to the time of growth. Maybe next time I won't resist the rest quite so much. Instead I will attempt to savour the January blossom as a reminder of what is to come.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.

Lorilee Guenter is a writer and artist who enjoys gardening and hiking. Sometimes she can be stubborn and miss the gift that is in front of her by trying to do things her own way.