What I learned from…

Check out our latest group writing project with Robert Hruzek. “What I learned from the generosity of others.”

Welcome to the 19th edition of the infamous world famous groupwrite project known around these parts (and hopefully around your parts as well) as What I Learned From…!

That’s right, folks; it’s that time of the month (no, silly, not that time!) for y’all to shine your light for the whole world to see! It’s time for you to share your stories and lessons learned from the greatest schoolteacher of all: life!

This month, having just made it through the Thanksgiving Day holidays here in the U.S., and with the impending Christmas season finally landing on us like a big bag of warm Figgie Pudding (whatever the heck that is!), it seemed rather appropriate to choose a topic that sorta captured the essence, the spirit, the je ne se quois of the whole month of December.

Thus this month’s topic was born!… Read More.

This job is not permanent

Having mowed lawns and been a janitor by age 15, I was ready for something new, something that paid well. That summer a neighbor who worked for a local motor oil distributor offered me a job. Chickering Oil supplied motor oils to various retail outlets in Houston. They had every kind of oil imaginable in their warehouse: standard motor oil for cars, specialty aviation oils, oils with unusual weights for unusual engines, and various other petroleum-based lubricants. They had millions of cans of oil in their warehouse, and all of it was packed in cardboard cases of 24.

My neighbor explained the job to me:

“Cases are always falling or being knocked around. If a can of oil breaks, oil soaks the cardboard box, so we can’t ship the case. We need someone to remove the good cans of oil and repack them in fresh cases. We’ll pay you 50 cents a case.”

The following Monday I was dropped off at Chickering Oil and escorted to a dark, oil-soaked corner in the back of the warehouse. A mountain of cases greeted me, all of them soaked in oil, bent, dented, or broken open. Off to the side was a huge stack of fresh cardboard boxes…Read More

Is that my blanket, Linus?

I love having fans. I don’t have many (Have you ever heard of me?) but I’m always on the lookout for more. Over the years I’ve developed a knack for locating these people who make me feel good. I find one or two where ever I go, and I can boast that I have some in my family, a handful in Sunday School, a bunch at work, a few in the neighborhood, a smattering on-line, and several in other corners of my life.

Do you know why I love them? Because they provide security. They are like Linus’s blanket to me. My fans like what I do and tell me so. They think I’ve arrived. They ask for my opinion and accept it. They call me on the phone and consider it wisdom. They make me feel all warm inside and I love them for it!

But they don’t grow me.

That’s the problem with fans. They’re like High School yearbook comments who say, “You’re such a great guy, Sam. Don’t ever change, always stay the same!”

Well, I recently asked a few fans (and only a few) to stop saying that. I invited them to become critics. I love it and hate it so far, but I know I need it. (Plus, if they help me to grow, I might get more fans! Oh, dreaded blanket!) My unofficial goal is to have one critic for each major area of my life: family, writing, speaking, leading and my Christian faith that affects all of these. Time will tell if I stick to it.

This week, I was encouraged by folks who ask Mary DeMuth to be a critic. Mary is a good writer who recently started “Free Critique Per Week” for writers who want to grow. Read her invitation and examples, and consider what area of your life could use feedback like this. Perhaps, like me, you need to let go of your security blanket a little.

Names

There is this moment when you wake up in the morning. Your whole reality is the pillows and sheets. It’s warm and rather womb-like. It’s nice. And then your mind starts working. You begin to consider the day before you. Your consciousness turns on and starts ramping up.

And for some people, the name-calling begins. They hear the names they have been called. And they believe them.

I always feel for people who were labeled, hard, in their childhood. The names comes rushing back every morning.

Ann Voskamp writes very eloquently about this in a piece she calls “When you call yourself names.”

I have lived like a child who never learned her name, lost and wandering.

So it went each morning: I wake on cotton sheets, under quilt of fragile threads, and hear the calling of names. Names I’ve called myself; names learned when young, that refuse to be forgotten. Names I’ve made my own.

In the waking, they jab, and I drag pillow over head, press into mattress, burrow deep into escape, but still I hear and cringe.…Read More

Missing your calling

We Christians have the idea that God will “call” us to service. There are things that need doing in this world, and we expect God will call us to do some of them. Most people never hear God’s voice out loud, so the question of how you know to what you have been called is an interesting one. Most people agree that you should pray and seek the advice of respected and mature Christians. After that, well, you might just have to struggle a bit with this question.

Ann Voskamp is a mother and a writer. Like all of us who have tended the home and the children, there are those days when you realize that your entire day will be focused on sweeping, cooking, and soothing a child with a tummy ache. Ann has had those days. And she has wondered if perhaps she missed her calling. Hat tip to Joy Messimer for this one.

Last week Saturday, while the fields yielded up their gold and wagons filled with corn kernels, I stood at the window, phone receiver pressed to ear and that deep inner cochlear reverberated. The voice crackled, typical static of answering machine recording. “Sorry we missed your call.”

Wind rustles through dried corn leaves, and I wonder if I’ve missed mine too. Missed my calling. The one call that can’t be missed. That ceramic plaque with its signature seventies style hung in my mother-in-law’s house, it’s words ready on her lips too, words that keep ringing me, “Only one life, will soon be past, only what’s done for Jesus will last.” I pray those words every night over God-masterpieces wrapped in tired limbs, these grandchildren of hers tucked under quilts.

We pass this way but once. We can’t afford to miss the call.…Read More

What have YOU learned about Government?

That’s the new group writing project from Robert Hruzek of Middle Zone Musings . He’s asking everybody to share "What I Learned from… Government." I don’t know about you, but this one sounds particularly interesting. Especially in light of this little thing happening in the United States on November 4…

So head over to Robert’s blog for all the details . Here’s my distillation of his pitch.

Pop Quiz: Pick a nation, any nation. What’s one thing they all have in common? (I mean, other than bugs. I hate bugs.)

… (sound of drumroll) government !

…Do you consider government a good thing, or would you prefer anarchy? Something in between, perhaps? Have you always agreed with your government, or do you see room for improvement? Do you even care? Why or why not? What have you learned from the different types of governments across the world?

Put up your posts starting Monday, November 3. To participate, here’s all you have to do:

1. Write a new post on your blog about what you’ve learned from government. As Robert says, "feel free to be as eloquent (or concise) as you like. C’mon; show off for us!"
2. Include a link to Robert’s main post that will go live on November 3.
3. Send Robert an email (rhruzek@sbcglobal.net ) containing your name, the title of your post, and the permalink of the post. (To make sure he doesn’t miss it.)

Weaving the Hours - Random Acts of Poety

Marcus here. Last week on a whim, we posted some Random Acts of Poetry. Suddenly, it seems the network poets came out of the wood work!

Next week, I’ll show more restraint, but for now I’m going to let the links fly like a blast from a Texas shotgun. Yeehaw!

To start, I want to thank those of you who commented on the first post Merrie Destefano of Alien-Dreams, Lorrie of Grow Up Deep, Erica Hale of These Three Remain (thanks for the response post this morning, Erica), nAncY of the The Blog of Nancy, and of course L. L. Barkat of Seedlings In Stone whose poem we featured.

A special thanks to Laure of Weaving the Hours. As I understand it, she actually joined the network because of Random Acts of Poetry. Yay!

I noticed more people writing poetry this week too. Which may mean only that I was looking for it. nAncY posted some new ones, but I’m going to recommend What Would Happen from several weeks back. Great imagery!  Merrie Destefano posted a suprising (and sensual) poem at Alien-Dreams called The Other Side about the intimacy of sharing her writing with someone. Yvette Massey posted a concrete poem at Journey Through His Garden. And my own dad came out of blog retirement to post The Last Day, something he wrote at Laity Lodge. Love you, Dad. Steve McCoy of Reformissionary, one of my favorites in the network,  posted lots of links about poetry as well as an update about how his wife is doing.

If you aren’t praying for Steve McCoy and his wife, please do so. She’s been very sick for awhile.

Which brings me to this Friday’s Random Act of Poetry from Laure of Weaving the Hours. Because anyone who joins the network over poetry deserves to get featured.  Her poem from yesterday on the 9 o’clock hour was quite moving.

this is why i love the morning …

it comes

inevitable as joy
which night cannot endure
for weeping.

it comes

necessary as, “but,”
when suffering makes me forgetful.

As a bonus, here is an animated poem from Billy Collins. A lot of people ask me how to write better poetry. I don’t know why they expect me to know the answer to this because I’m really just a hack poet myself. I like to play around with words, but that’s about it. I do know that I started becoming better when I began reading good poetry. What a concept right? Billy Collins is a good start. His Poetry 180 will keep you occupied in good verse for awhile, starting with Billy Collins own Introduction to Poetry. Also, I really enjoyed his book Questions About Angels and the animated videos of Billy Collins poetry, like this one called Some Days. For me, this poem is a good reminder not to think of myself as a little god, though I think God gives me more creative power than a plastic doll. Watch the poem, and you’ll understand what I mean.

Harvest time

When humans lived closer to the land, we were deeply affected by the seasons and the weather and the harvest. There was an excitement and a fear in the air. Would the crops come in on time, or would Jack Frost catch them in the fields?

J. Schaap remembers this time in an interesting piece called, “Harvest.”

Years ago, my parents-in-law, good Iowa farmers, annually got nervous this time of year. Harvest–an event that always sounded like a joyous celebration to a town kid–used to make them both more than a little shaky.

My father-in-law recognized harvest as a poker hand with a table full of chips. Could he get the crops in on time? Would he have to spend half his check getting the grain dry? Would his machinery hold out? A thousand similar questions arose daily before the ticking clock behind the rumble of the John Deere.

My mother’s worries were a bit different. Harvest meant heartache. She told me how fearful she’d get because she just knew that somewhere in the neighborhood some guy was going to die in a horrible farm accident. Happened every year–another kind of reaping.

We’ve had three deaths this year in the neighborhood, and we’re still nowhere near halfway through. I don’t keep track of these things very closely, but the old folks’ home where my in-laws live today is as sure a place as any to hear the news around town, especially when the news is tragic and involves old people. Three old men have died in farm accidents in the last few weeks, one of them from a heart attack, the two others in a bloody fashion that’s far better left unexplained. Tragic deaths. Horrible deaths. … Read More

When it comes to poverty: think small

Today is Blog Action Day. For more details, visit the Blog Action Day site.

For years I struggled with the idea of poverty. Why do we have poor people? Is there some way we can wipe out poverty? Why was I fortunate enough to be born into a comfortable, middle-class world? I felt guilty at times. I felt angry at times. And sometimes I just wanted to live my life and not think about poor people.

That kind of thinking gets you nowhere. The most freeing thing Jesus said about poverty was when he said, “The poor will always be with you.” In saying that, he gave the disciples permission to celebrate with him and enjoy life. But he never backed away from his strong command that EVERY DISCIPLE OF CHRIST MUST be about helping the poor.

As I got older I realized that the best way to understand Jesus was to think small. So I don’t spend much of my energy wondering which political party gives us the best chance to “address the issue of poverty.” I don’t spend any of my emotional energy worrying about why people are poor. Instead, my church friends and I spend a certain amount of our time intervening into specific situations of poverty. We have selected a few causes and we support them with great joy. How do we select them? Whenever someone in our community gets passionate about some act of social and/or economic mercy, we bless their desire and support it.

Currently we send money to India to support the indigenous Christian movement among the Banjara Gypsies. This money supports Banjara who are working to help other Banjara. We do this in part because one girl named Chloe got passionate and wanted to pray for the gypsies every Sunday. We go to Moldova every other year and work in an orphanage there. Some of our members now support Moldovan children by collecting money to provide an education for them when they leave the orphanage. Otherwise they would be pulled into prostitution and organized crime. We do this because one father and daughter had their hearts broken by the situation in Moldova and wanted to make a difference. One of our members is fairly passionate about water issues and has been to South America to help install water purifiers. We sent him off with prayers. He’ll probably go back soon. Two men in our church organize a Habitat for Humanity build every other year. We are currently in the middle of that. A couple of weeks ago I spent 8 hours with my oldest daughter, hammering away on a home.

We are a congregation of less than 100 members. But we feel empowered and powerful in the larger work of Christ against poverty. Not because we have the answers to the big questions. But because we have been set free to embrace our small role and know that if everyone did the same, it would be enough.

Gordon Atkinson - Real Live Preacher

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New Vision

October 7, 2008

Jennifer Dukes Lee has written a piece about her daughter helping her to see the world in new ways. Having three children, I would say that is one of the greatest joys children bring to us. New perspective. What makes a flower and what makes a weed? Children have different ideas.

My preschooler, Anna, helped me see God this week in an unexpected place — amidst the weeds.
The ditches along the country roads where I live are filled with towering sunflowers this time of year. The sunflowers have made their way into my landscaping, and along our dusty driveway. I pay little attention to them, except to pluck them when they shoot up between my rose bushes. I spray them with weed-killer when they try to steal the spotlight from my Russian sage. They are, after all, weeds. I looked out my kitchen window this morning, and I saw a clump of them standing clumsily by the shed.

I want to kill them. Anna wants to pick them.

I see weeds. Anna sees beauty.…Read More

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