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?
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.