B is for Because by Lorilee Guenter

As I contemplated what to write this month, I considered and rejected many words such as book, beautiful or becoming. These words and others are good words that apply not only to writing but to our lives. However, I struggled to pull together coherent thoughts relating to them and found myself asking why.

A few decades ago, in the early 1990s, I walked into drafting class and saw one word on the chalkboard: Why. When we answered the question we could leave. There are two simple answers to the question: "Why not?" or "Because". My questions of why and that incident led to my word for this month. B is for because.

I write because I have stories to tell. The Bible is full of stories that show God’s character. As I read them, I am encouraged and, at times, rebuked. Always, I am drawn to God. God has given me stories to tell as well. When I write, I am sharing the stories He has given me and the lessons He has taught me.

Snippets of conversation, words read, and things seen can all spark a story, a poem, or an essay. I write because some of those ideas are so persistent. They even get in the way of other tasks like sleep if I don’t pick up my pen. Because I write, I also notice things around me that I might otherwise overlook. I write because it reminds me to be present in the time and space I occupy. This doesn’t necessarily limit me to writing about here and now. I am finding more and more that, if I rush through my days or conversely waste my time on distractions, I miss living the life God has given me.

I write because God placed us in a beautiful world. It is a gift to us and a responsibility that He charged us with at creation. In my writing, I can remind others of the beauty of God's creation and the amazing detail He included. 

Even though though that creation has been broken because of our pride and rebellion, He didn’t give up on us. For some of us God gives us words and asks us to share them so others can see the beauty He created. He asks us to share our words so others can know His patient love, His mercy and His grace. 

I write because God is good. He made me who I am. He walks with me through the pain. He shelters me in the storm. God gave me words and asked me to use them. Sometimes the words are for me as I wrestle to understand what is happening around me. Other times the words are for others. If I don’t write, I am not being a good steward of this gift God has given me.

I create because God created and made us in His image. He uses our flawed creations, our inadequate words and our lives to show His character to bring glory and praise Him. My art and my writing are part of my offering to Him. They are the imperfect works of a student of the craft. My Master is a patient teacher. Because He loves me, He adds polish to my life and my work as He writes my story.

The Write Reasons By Vickie Stam

Psalm 34:18 "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed." NLT

This verse can truly serve as the very first stepping stone into my world of writing. 

I started pouring my thoughts onto paper back in the late eighties. I was a young mother, twenty four years old with two sons, aged five and three. My youngest son, Jason was diagnosed with autism in 1989 at the age of three. I was devastated but not so much by his diagnosis but by the way it was presented to me. 

I remember keeping a close eye on my beautiful blonde haired boy, Jason as he ran around the doctor's office. I wished he would just sit down. Sit still. He couldn't. He fluttered about the room like a gently butterfly. His hands flapping like wings in time to his own rhythm. He really was in his own little world running about on his tip-toes, completely oblivious to the fact that his father and I were getting ready to talk about him. We wanted answers into the strange behaviour he possessed and his lack of speech. 

My attention was suddenly diverted when Jason's doctor  slid a blank piece of paper across the table at me and said, "Your son has autism. He looks at you no different than that piece of paper." 
"Your wrong." I snapped. "He knows exactly who I am."

Tears swelled in the corner of my eyes. I had no idea what she was talking about yet it didn't sound good. This was the answer we had been waiting for - autism. I said the word over and over in my mind all the while looking at the doctor.

Doctor N as I will call her in this story, was not the warm and fuzzy type. She never blinked after I barked at her. She never apologized, hugged me or even shifted uneasily in her chair. She simple broke my heart and wanted to move on. It was as if this was just another routine day for her. 

For me, it marked the beginning of my first journal. A book filled with heart-ache and pain. It served as more than a glimpse into the world I never asked for. If someone were to have read it, it would have been more like a window.

It was there in my darkest hours that I penned just how broken I felt. How inept I felt as a mother. How my planet had just been turned upside down. How the hopes and dreams that I had for my children immediately disappeared to a place I was no longer allowed to go. My life had abruptly changed.

I needed somewhere to transform my pain. Bury it. I began to put it down on paper. Each time I closed the cover I tried to make the hurt go away. Sometimes that worked. I felt relieved. Other times - the words only seemed to pollute the pages. Still, I continued to write.  

Eventually my journal served as a healing tool. A learning tool. I began to write about Jason's progress and not only his struggles. His laughter and not only the sadness in my heart. I could see the sparkle in his eyes. I penned his first words that came much later than other children his own age. Most of all - I wrote about everything that I loved about him. And I hoped that he and Matt would one day be close like brothers should be.   

With a crushed heart, I needed to find a way to persevere. Little did I know that it was God who had provided a way for me to do that. In my suffering he opened the door for me to write. 

To this very day, I love to write. It's not as if I'm saying that I enjoy writing about the unpleasantries I've experienced over the years but more about the freedom I felt and still feel when I write. I feel at liberty to express myself in a way that I never imagined. There are times when writing takes the place of speaking out loud. It's less complicated. It's peaceful, relaxing and most of all safe. I can choose to write for my eyes alone or for others to see. 

When people learn that I am a writer, some simply smile at me. They don't know what to say in return. I've even rendered some people speechless. Their eyes widen and their mouth drops. I guess they can't picture me as a writer. For the most part people are quite curios. But they never ask me 'why' I write. They really want to know..... what I write.

I have a story. It's my life. I write because God gave me a way to express my thoughts and feelings. And I just can't stop.  

Psalm 139:1-4
                 
"O Lord, you have examined my heart 
       and know everything about me.
You know when I sit down or stand up
       You know my thoughts even when I'm far away.
You see me when I travel
       and when I rest at home.
You know everything I do.
       You know what I'm going to say
even before I say it, Lord."
                                NLT

Why I Write - Vivia Oliver

 


We're pleased to have InScribe member Vivia Oliver join us as our Guest Blogger today.  She writes poetry, songs and stories.


If someone asks me what kind of poems I write, I tell them the ones God wants me to. I generally don’t write poetry from my own ideas. I feel that nearly all my poems are God inspired, especially the gospel poems which have been given to me through inspiration. There have been a few, not too many, that a friend has prompted by saying: why don’t you write a poem about that?  I will be listening to a sermon, a song, or be driving down the road and the words suddenly come to me, or at least the idea, the subject for a poem.

One poem that I wrote last fall came to me while I was driving down a quiet highway. All of a sudden I thought, Thank you, Lord, for the wide open road. That is what I named it. The lines just kept coming to my mind, and by the time I got home it was nearly all in my head. (I've included the finished piece below).


At times I have carried a small tape recorder so when I am driving I can record my words and not have to stop on the road side. The first poem I ever wrote was while I was driving and I had to pull off the road several times on the trip to write down my lines!

I often think of poetry, songs, or even stories while driving, listening to the radio. It is a relaxing thing for me, as long as the traffic isn’t too heavy.

Pictures are another thing that have inspired me to write stories. I can analyze a picture and come up with a story quite quickly. I have written several stories from pictures in my house.Events with animals are another lead for me to write. I enjoy animals, especially horses.

Thank the Good Lord

Thank the good Lord for the wide open road
And for a saviour to help me carry the load
For bridges to take us safely over water, not wet
That cross rivers in the direction I want to get

I wanted to be a trucker in my younger days
Now I drive a lot, and am familiar with byways
Thank the good Lord for the wide open roads
And the big trucks which carry the loads

The scenery so beautiful; leaves painted by God
The skies which could only be spread out by God
The Saskatoon bush standing by a gate post
Reminds me of Peter, the Holy Gate host

Thank God for keeping the deer in the ditch
And the other cars passing without a hitch
I feel like I’m driving to eternity
As Jesus keeps Satan from catching up to me

The sign posts along the road tell us where to go
The Bible has a word for us, so we know how to grow
Thank the good Lord for the wide open road
And for a saviour to help me carry the load

Vivia Oliver, September 2012