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.

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

L.L. here. Feeling very random on a rainy day. Feeling like I want to find poetry in hidden places. “Why not,” I think to myself, “find poetry in the comment box?”

So I remember a few fine words I saw in various places—some funny, some pensive, some even prophetic. Then, using a little poetic license, I set them down. Add line breaks, change a few words, delete others, but overall preserve the heart and soul of the original comments.

I get permission of course. Permission to shape and turn, bring to light, collaborate. That’s the beauty of community. Sometimes we come alongside, shift something a little to the right, knock off a bump at the top, carve a deeper smile at the edge of a tentative lip.

Thanks, Commenters, for letting me parade your accidental poetry even while I add my little dabs of paint and glue or use my pocket knife…

First up are these comments from Laure that I found at Joelle’s place, Alivening. In a post called Small Things, Joelle had said, “I feel strongly about caring for this miraculous ball of blue and green. I fall in love, numerous times a day, with the facets sparkling in luminous life….

I am in love a moment at a time. I hope the moments add up to something portentous. If I planned better, moved it higher on my priority list, maybe loving Earth would be a more consistent and careful absorption. These days, though, I do my part in infinitesimally small ways.”

Her final question to readers: “How do you love the earth?”

Laure’s answer:

Fiercely
anonymously,
with words …
and many tears

And not to dwell too long in one place, but I liked what Laure said at another post there too. One about the true self versus the false self, called Plastic

Laure responded:

these words
ask to be
listened to,
really and
respectfully
listened to

not disputed
or white washed
with the sweat
of anxiety

you honor those
who take the time
to receive you

i receive you

Then on a light note, Erin came to my post about being on the radio. She saw the Napoleon couch (above) and responded:

How much will we
have to crane our necks
to converse? And wherever
shall we put our tea cups?

Still, if it were the living room
of a synchronized swimmer
from a 1940’s Hollywood
spectacular, I could just see

the party. Everyone would
launch off the red velvet at the
same time, swirling, diving,
reaching for the veggie tray.

All in perfect synchronized
red velvet Hollywood pizazz.

Last but not least, dear Ann, who is one-of-a-kind (and her readers love her for it). She responds to Nelson Publishing’s Mr. Hyatt. In so many words, he suggested an author must:

talk-blog-Twitter-Facebook-talk-talk-and-talk-again-open-comments-move-shake-make.

To which Ann respectfully offered, like a Wendell Berry of the web:

in a cyberworld
of twittering,
facebooking,
commenting

can one create
an oasis…
unusual quiet,
entries that invite

one to slow,
to think, to really
enter in, consider,
blog counter-

cyberculture:
no obligation to
comment, no full
sidebars. in a world

of so much
noise, can you
create a retreat,
build a still chapel?

I hope you’ve enjoyed these unexpected poems from the comment box. But before I go, let me share what Laure told me when I asked permission. She said, “You know, sometimes I think I’m most poetic when commenting. I’m on a journey of awakening to my poet self and it is in relationship with others … to the tenderly expressed humanity of others that I come intensely in contact with my self.”

Comment, anyone? You may just find your poetic self. Or perhaps you’ll find it better if you sit back in the still chapel of retreat…

If I said I wasn’t enjoying the time I have to myself I’d be lying. If I said I didn’t miss the snuggles of a little girl in my lap I’d also be lying.

Along our 20 years of active parenting, there are these moments. Moments of change. Moments of clarity. Moments when the change that has been happening slowly is suddenly apparent.

Carl Holmes has had one of those moments with his child. And, miracle of miracles, he sees it for what it is right while it is happening.

How do you know when you are on the right track as a parent? Do you ever really know? No, but then once in awhile you overhear your child, and all is well with the world. Tonight I heard my son tell my wife the following:

“Mom, God and I were talking. I think God is telling me to fast. (insert wife dropped jaw here) I think I am going to fast Pizza.”…Read More.

We’ve had more than 50 different reactions on Sabbath rest over the last two weeks. The collected works all agree — setting aside time in obedience to God can change your life.

We were unaware that a blog had already dedicated itself to the rest. Fellow High Calling Blogger Sabbath Says has a number of intriguing posts. We were especially drawn to the Rules and Exceptions post for Megan’s Sabbath observation. “Thou shalt not exercise (unless thou needs a good run to clear thy head) and “Thou Shalt not go out to eat (unless thy grandmother is paying)” crackle with irony.…Click here to read the entire post and see links to the sources.

I just received a religious Christmas catalog in the mail and I need to vent. Perhaps you already know how I cringe at faux products. If not, you can read a few posts here. Fakes, posers, wannabes, simulations - none of these make sense to me, especially when it comes to Christianity and marketing.

My first complaint is about the products themselves and those who consume them, and the second is about the advertisers who promote them.…Read More.

It takes spiritual maturity to see the blessings in hard times.

Jennifer Dukes Lee recently took her child to the hospital. As she says, she “handed her firstborn over to a complete stranger.” I know what that is like. My youngest had to have a series of operations on her eyes before she was one-year-old. One of the most helpless feelings I’ve ever had was handing her to the nurse.

But Jennifer found blessings all over that hospital. She writes about it in a piece she calls, “A Day of Blessing.”

My Day of Blessing started well before dawn, as I lifted Lydia out of her bed and buckled her into the car seat.

I handed all 40 pounds of my firstborn over to a complete stranger, and the two disappeared down a long hallway, retreating behind doors to an operating room. I would see Lydia on the other side of this “routine procedure” — routine for the doctors, but not for the moms who wait.…Read More.

In the book, Crouch says, "We make sense of the world by making something of the world. The human quest for meaning is played out in human making: the finger-painting, omelet-stirring, chair-crafting, snow-swishing activities of culture. Meaning and making go together–culture you could say, is the activity of making meaning."

Which brings me to today’s Random Act of Poetry. Christine Sine of Godspace and Mustard Seed Associates posted her advent meditation (which I’m going to call a poem for the sake of this post). Typically, I’m not a fan of psalm-style poetry, but this is really good. Christine uses anaphora , repetition, rhythm, and antithesis to great effect.

More than that, I wanted to feature Christine’s interest in a project called Make Something Day . The idea is a little bit like Advent Conspiracy without the guilt. (Nothing against Advent Conspiracy, mind you, my family is planning to participate.) But Make Something Day is simpler. On the day after Thanksgiving, when the whole world goes to the mall, stay home and make something instead. In fact, if you’re feeling ambitious, make as many of your presents this year as you can.

Christine talks about making Lavender Lotion, but in my opinion, she’s already completed her homework with this Advent Meditation and especially the accompanying video (also embedded below).

In this Advent season we await the coming of Christ

Child of promise come,
Revealer of God come,
Bringer of life come,
Come to the beaten and the battered,
Come to the despised and rejected
Come to all in whom the divine image is still distorted
We wait in joyful expectation.
Come not as an distant emperor but as a helpless babe
Come not as a prince in a gold palace, but as a displaced and frightened refugee
Come not as a man of power, but in love and compassion
Come to those outcast like shepherds in the field
Come to foreigners like Magi watching from afar
Come to rich and poor, young and old, male and female,
We wait in hopeful anticipation
Come to bless all creation with your love
Come to bring salvation on the earth
Come to rule with justice and in peace
Come Child of promise, open the windows of our hearts
Come Christ of compassion, open the doors of our homes
Come Prince of Peace, open the pathways to our lives
We wait with all the peoples of the earth
Child of hope we welcome your coming
Christ of life we welcome your coming
King of glory we welcome your coming

It’s the practicing that is problematic. Practice is where my integrity falters because here appears the disparity between what I say and what I do. I’d rather accomplish than rest; assume full responsibility than trust.

For these reasons, I’m glad for the Sabbath posts popping up around High Calling Blogs recently. They remind me of a critical element of not only my week, but also of my everyday. Megan Willome reminded me in this poetic reflection on Sabbath.  And Red Letter Believers has been reminding me through a series of posts. You can even offer your own two cents on Sabbath by joining RLB’s current writing project here .

Perhaps if enough of us talk about it, it will prod me (and you if you need it) toward better practice.

Book suggestion: Dorothy Bass’ Receiving the Day

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.”

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

Here’s an excerpt:

Smart employers want to hire and keep good workers. Ashley Giddings is a waitress for Billy Gene’s Restaurant in Kerrville, where she was hired about five months ago. Formerly, she was a manager at a retail store, and her boss, Billy Gene, says he saw in Ashley someone who could transfer her skills in working with people to waiting tables.

Recognizing the value of his staff, he believes, “If I take care of my employees, they will take care of my customers.” Ashley, who is learning quickly, enjoys the friendship of co-workers, the supportive environment and “meeting fascinating people. She’d like her customers to know that “I appreciate it when people are patient and understand that we work hard to make them satisfied.” (Read more .)