Pick of the Clicks 3/6/2015

If you have a pulse and access to the internet, I’m betting you saw #thedress debacle unfold this past week. I had fun squinting at my screen, doubting my sanity and arguing with my husband over it, was highly entertained by how everyone had an opinion on it, but this campaign from the Salvation Army in South Africa tops it all: Why is it so hard to see black and blue?

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Wow.

On to sharing other fantastic things from the interwebz this week…

Ed Cyzewski’s post Ambition: Is Taking the Promotion Selfish or Faithful is such a wise reflection on how difficult it can be to weigh family & career decisions. Good stuff at The High Calling.

Darlene’s post My Husband’s Cousin is a beautiful tribute to the profound gift of a generous, unassuming friend who showed up. I love how she has honored his life in this piece. So beautiful.

I wanted to stand up and cheer for Tracy Cutchlow’s essay Would you call 911 on another parent?  Yes, just everything yes, about this essay. Let’s be neighbors, a village caring for one another’s kids; not snitches waiting for other parents to fail and abandoning kids in the process.

Jamie Calloway-Hanauer’s post The Telling Ground is one of my favorite pieces of writing in a while. It’s about life and loss and why it matters that we read and write about it…

So there’s pain is in the telling. So what? There’s also catharsis. More importantly, there’s sharing. Telling is talking; sharing is giving someone part of you, hoping it benefits part of them. As ironic as it may seem, sharing the hurt and the grime and the rise from the ashes that you simply know you didn’t deserve but somehow got anyway is actually very good for the soul. Mine, yes, but hopefully too for the souls of others who need to hear of things equal to or greater than or less than all that they are and will ever be.

And so here we are, in the telling.

Betsey MacWhinney’s essay Bringing a Daughter Back From The Brink With Poems is stunning reading:

I started leaving poems in her shoes in the morning. She had used the shoes as a form of quiet protest, so I decided I would use them to make a quiet stand for hope. When one of your primary strategies as a parent involves leaving Wendell Berry’s “Mad Farmer Liberation Front” in your child’s shoe, it’s clear things aren’t going well.

What I wanted her to know is: People have been in pain before, struggled to find hope, and look what they’ve done with it. They made poetry that landed right in your shoe, the same shoe you didn’t wear for four months because of your despair.

That’s all for this week, friends… What did you love this week? Leave a comment and say hi.

6 thoughts on “Pick of the Clicks 3/6/2015

    • So glad you wrote it, Ed. I have this quote from Ann Voskamp printed up above my desk: “Be Brave. Your bravery wins a thousand battles you can’t see because your bravery strengthens a thousand others to win their battles too.” You made people brave with that piece.

  1. I just read the last link, the one about the mom leaving poems in her child’s shoes. Beautiful. It shows the power of poetry, of facing the questions that have no answers, and of reaching out for hope even when everything looks hopeless. Thanks for linking to this.

    • Laura, I am generally afraid of poetry, but I loved this piece too and it stirred me to reconsider the healing power it can do. I clicked over to Mary Oliver’s poem Wild Geese (linked in the article) and was MESMERIZED. It is stunning.

      • Honestly, poetry isn’t my favorite type of creative writing. I didn’t mind analyzing poetry for literature class–I like to analyze anything with imagery!–but I couldn’t understand the general appeal beyond the theoretical realm of literary analysis. But while I was a member of a writing review site, I got to know some gifted poets. They taught me a lot about how poetry “works”, including things that literature teachers didn’t tell me!

  2. Thank you for sharing the powerful and beautiful in your link-ups. I’ll browse them all over the weekend, but so far, I’m on board with Tracy’s assessment of the current state of our culture. I’m thankful to live in a rural neighborhood where we love, protect and share in the raising of our families. Not everyone is so fortunate. In our homeschooling years, we knew to stick close to home on our school-day outings lest some well-meaning citizen report our truancy.

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