Words in Motion

 

Fellow blogger and reviewer, Janet Sketchley, sent a review of a book of poetry this week. I loved the fluid nature of the words the poet used, the rhythm, and the word pictures she painted. All in free verse.

While I mentioned to Janet in a personal note that I do enjoy reading well-formed rhyming poetry (Indian Summer, Campbell; Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost; The Song my Paddle Sings, E. Pauline Johnson, to name a few), I do not usually write in rhyme myself. And I found myself wondering, how many of those poets’ work remained in a drawer unseen because the poem did not work out the way they hoped. Happens to writers, poets alike. I have many of both.

 

“Whose woods these are I think I know,

His house is in the village, though’

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow…”

       -Robert Frost, Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening

 

There are many gifted poets, and as a poet, I am a student of poetry, with a shelf of poetry books to pull out and read.

 

 I’ve bookmarked a good lot of them with special favourites to go back to. Having been associated with Tower Poetry Society for a number of years, and in the past year have had opportunity to join in their monthly (virtual) workshops, I’ve met even more poets in our home province.

Poetry can be a harder sell than a work of fiction, for example, since it does not translate well to other languages that have their own expressions, their own language and rhythms. I noticed this in some of the poetry reading sessions online this summer with Laurier, McMaster and Western university students when I had opportunity to join in as a Tower poet. There’s promise in so much of their work and many of them perform their pieces as poetry slam without words in front of them.

And yet there are other poets worthy of mention too, both ancient and historic. People quote the Persian poet, Rumi, who seems to be as much philosopher, while I might quote Psalm 23, the Shepherd’s Psalm by David in the Bible. 

 

 

In a minimum of words, the 23rd psalm is both metaphoric and picturesque. Scenes of water, of rest on the hillside, of promises of a full table and restoration. How calming. Of all the psalms in the book, that is probably my favourite for its promises and musical arrangement of words—words in motion.

Poetry then can be a song, a recitation, a string of words that work together to make an image, with a rhythmic beat to hold it all together. And for those who think they don’t get poetry, much of our music is poetry.

 Next time you sing a song or hymn, pay attention to the words and the way they work together.  Next time you read a poem, pay attention to the rhythm… and you will find words in motion.

 

Carolyn R. Wilker

https://www.carolynwilker.ca/

Author, editor, storyteller

 

In Recognition of Truth and Reconciliation

This past month has indeed been difficult for our aboriginal neighbours finding the graves of their children who never returned from residential schools. And sadness for many of us, learning of those findings.

What I knew about residential schools was slim. I’d watched an aboriginal youth play about the schools around the time I began to write for publication. And sometime later, I read Jennifer Maruno’s children’s novel, Totem. What I didn’t know was that those “schools” housed children as young as three and four, and that the quarters were tight and the child population too high for the space and provisions allowed. What I’m trying to understand now is  how it all started, in a document titled They Came for the Children. Not an easy document to read, but perhaps essential for understanding.           

I questioned in a conversation on Facebook recently, whether any of the deaths might be attributed to disease that was prevalent in those times. I thought of tuberculosis and other disease, and on reading more, figured that children—or anyone—crowded together in cramped quarters, receiving inadequate care or treatment of illness… well, disease is going to spread. I pictured small children, ill on their cots, crying for their mamas and getting no loving touches. And older kids and the harsh treatment reported and no one to turn to for protection. It saddened me that the people taking care of them, who should know the love of God, could be so cruel.

In making my way through the document, They Came for the Children, I’m learning more than I ever wanted to know about what colonization meant to the natives of our country and their treaties.

People speculate that the numbers will grow much higher as elders seek necessary records of the children taken away and who never returned. How does a nation recover from that kind of staggering loss?

Recently I had a short conversation with First Nations storyteller, Rhonda Donais-Walsh, whom I had occasion to hear at an online writer’s event in May. I had replied before the news of the first findings. I had messaged her to tell her how I had enjoyed her storytelling and her use of puppets. Rhonda was replying to my message. 

I took the opportunity to extend my condolences on the recent horrific news. She had told us at the event that she was of the first generation that did not attend residential school.

She appreciated my mention, saying, “Thanks. The elders had been trying to tell people for years, and no one would believe them.” She added, “The statistics are devastating to the degree of poverty, incarceration, overdoses, and kids in care. I hope with everything that has come to light, healing can begin.” 

As I catch my breath, I imagine her doing the same. She wrote, “The past is a horrible story. I believe now that the truth is out, people can start to change and grow, forgive and understand. That's my hope.”

Truth is an important word here. We know the story now. How do we act on it?

She wrote, “Indigenous people are beautiful, generous, kind, humble, caring folk. We always find a reason to smile, and feel grateful. I know I do!”

Now is our opportunity to walk alongside them, let them know we care, and try to understand the laws that led to it and how they need to change. That’s the reconciliation part. To love our neighbour as ourselves, no matter who they are or what their story.

 

 Carolyn Wilker, author, editor, storyteller

www.carolynwilker.ca

A Modern Parable by Rose McCormick Brandon

 Two young evangelists attended a conference in Florida where respected teachers expressed doubt in the veracity of the Bible. This created doubt in the minds of the men. One left evangelism, returned to his home country and began a career in journalism.

The other also returned home. He re-read Paul’s message to his apprentice, Timothy, where he states that all scripture is inspired by God. He recalled that Jesus quoted scripture many times, including from the creation story, which was the portion of scripture most under scrutiny (Matt. 19:4-6).

“I walked out in the moonlight, my heart heavy and burdened. I dropped to my knees and opened my Bible on a tree stump. ‘Oh God, I prayed, there are many things in this book I do not understand. But God, I’m going to accept this book as your word by faith. I’m going to allow my faith to go beyond my intellect and believe that this is your inspired Word.’ From that moment on I have never doubted God’s Word.”*

The man who left evangelism was Charles Templeton. He became editor of The Toronto Star and a frequent guest on Canadian television. He espoused the arguments of skeptics and wrote a book sadly titled, Farewell to God. The second man was Billy Graham. After his faith crisis he became more confident in preaching the Bible. Thousands follow Jesus today because of his commitment to scripture. He too wrote books, each one based on scripture. 

Paul reminded the Corinthian believers that the Church of Christ is like a house (I Cor. 3:11). A defective foundation affects the whole structure. When a person, or church, loses their commitment to biblical authority, its foundation crumbles. Windows that should let in the fresh breath of God’s Spirit no longer open. Doors that should lead to the knowledge of the Savior hang purposelessly on rusted hinges.

True believers trust the Bible, teach the Bible and live according to its precepts. 

All scripture is given by inspiration of God.” 2 Tim. 3:16

One person put it this way: Where the Bible is not believed the church speaks with a stutter. 

The stories of these two men read like a modern-day parable that illustrates the necessity of building our faith on Jesus and His Word (Acts 2:36). One man’s faith crumbled. The other man’s grew stronger. Our lives are parables too. Let your legacy be that you believed the Bible is the Word of God and that it is a gift from Him to all humanity.

Prayer: Thank you for your inspired Word. 

Lofty Goals by Eleanor Shepherd

  

       The day has come around again for me to post my blog. This is Holy Week and today is Maundy Thursday, the day when we remember Jesus humbly washing the feet of His disciples, as an example to us.

         

Ironically today is also April Fool’s Day, that in some ways seems to be the extreme opposite as it is a time when we play tricks on each other that seem anything but authentic.

 

As I sat down to try and figure out what I could say today and which of these extremes to choose, my attention was drawn to the preamble provided at the top of this blogspot. It includes the comment that, “We share the goal of wanting to entertain and inspire you to be all you can be with God's help.”

 

Wow! I was reminded again of why I write this blog and felt the weight of my responsibility.  I don’t really consider myself an entertainer, although I do love to share stories that I find interesting.  Is that what it means to be an entertainer?

 

What I strongly relate to is the desire to in some way inspire you to be all you can be with God’s help. However, to do that, I need to have some idea of where you are now and where you envision yourself to be when you discover that you can become all you can be with God’s help.

 

Are we being realistic when we set such lofty goals for ourselves as blog writers? 

 

One way I might discover a little bit more about how to do this, is ask myself the questions I want to ask you.

 

What kind of stories entertain me? I like stories about real people who face real problems and overcome somehow. For example: Last night at the regular Zoom Bible study from our church, a friend shared a story with us, that I really enjoyed.

 

Several years ago she was walking to the Friday Bible study at our church. On her way she passed through an alley where there were lots of young people hanging out. When she saw them, her heart went out to them and she began to pray for a way to make contact with them so she could tell them about God’s love.

 

Suddenly, she tripped on the slippery gravel and fell down flat on the ground. She is a large woman and could not easily get up. She had the attention of the children as they called their parents to come and help. Her hands and knees were bleeding and her face was scratched from the gravel. Quickly the neighbours gathered and began to care for her. A kind man picked out the pieces of gravel, embedded in her hands from the fall. One lady gave her a towel to blot her bleeding wounds and told her to keep it.

 

           A couple of weeks later, still marked by the bruises from her fall, she went to the Bible study through the same alley again. She asked the young people where to find the woman that had given her the towel. In the meantime, the church had printed off several invitations to kids’ activities to distribute. Meeting the kind woman, my friend learned she was the leader of a community group and was delighted to give these invitations to the children.

 

Consequently, many of the young people came to the programs at the church that summer where they had a chance to memorize the words of John 3:16 from the Bible.

 

(From Google Images)

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have everlasting life.”

 

My friend realized that God answered her prayer by letting her fall flat on her face and instead of pain, when it happened, she felt joy.

 

Her story inspired me once more to become all that God created me to be, especially someone who shares His love. Maybe by sharing it with you, I may in some small way be reaching for the lofty goal that we have set ourselves.

Word Guild Award 
2018

Word Guild Award
2009

Word Guild Award
2011