the life in our hands: joining in twelve causes for christmas

I hope for more than I can breath for them; I long for than can be spoken. If I could give everything in one quick motion to know that it would be better, could be better, I would. It would be the easiest sort of gift. (I wonder, sometimes, if this is a heart of grace or just a fierce sense of individuality; either way, I suppose, Holy Ghost works it for the best.) Do I speak of one particular ministry or one charity alone? No. For I look at each place that I could give to, each empty bowl I could fill, and I long to be that mercy and that grace. I wish I could do more than I could even begin to dream. And friends, I dream big.

So this past week, we have taken a step back as bloggers and have come together in a united voice to place before you, our wonderful readers, several different charities and relief organizations, each and every one worthy of your time and tithe, should you feel moved to give.

We make no play here as to which is best, advocate none above another. We simply present you with our individual passions, collected together, for you to share as you are moved.

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My contribution to this series is quite a simple one. I am drawn to an odd need, perhaps a need too obvious to imagine to be serious: the need to be able to wash your hands.

It seems silly to think that soap could be such a vital need, but every day 1,000 children die in India alone from diarrhea; half of those deaths could have been prevented if there had been proper hand washing stations and the soap required to do so.

500 children. Every day.

500 children every day could live if they had soap.

You'd be surprised just how truly simple this can be for a community, which is where the beautiful people of Tippy Tap come in.

Tippy Tap makes the bold claim that this incredible hurt can indeed be overcome through a simple, easy method. Would you believe that you could help save the lives of 500 children with soap, matches, a candle, string, a water contained, tools to dig, gravel, two y-shaped sticks, and two short sticks?

Check out the video below:

For what we could easily pick up in a store where everything costs a $1, we could help save the lives of children who are dying needlessly for want of the most basic needs.

What can you do?

Be informed, so as to pray informed.

Give your talents----Tippy Tap looks for grant writers who can help with securing funding, as they are just starting up!

Consider joining in other ways----money being only a small part of the possibilities.

This is a simple way to give life and love, but it is also one of many ...

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We are, simply, putting forward the causes dear to us and at the same time loving all the causes that could be a part of blessing this world for the sake of Christ. Join this journey? And, should you like to join us by writing a post of your own, please read Joy's first post and then have a go! Be sure, too, to add your post to the blog hop below and check out all the wonderful people who have written a post already!

 

in media res: a blog conversation part III

 

We come to the close of this little blog series, wandering and roving through the fields of wonder. "We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories." I mentioned it through fiction, David wove in strands of narrative nonfiction, and now Stephanie shares in reflection by a poetic all her own. Join our conversation over at her blog today.

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We all are born into the middle of a story, infants hurled howling into a plotline and expected, like a cat, to land on our feet.

It is in life as in literature: the reader is thrown into the middle of the story to engage our immediate interest and stir our curiosity, in what is called in media res—Latin for “into the midst of things.”  In media res is The Odyssey, the opening scene of which reveals Odysseus captive on Calypso Island, and then backtracks to the beginning of his journey, circling back to this event in chronological order. It’s Paradise Lost, the epic which unfolds out of a fallen angel’s monologue in the lake of fire at the end of the world. It’s William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury, which startlingly begins, “Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting.” 17 syllables, and we are hooked.

In writing, in media res is refined literary technique. In living, it is often brute survival.

Keep reading at Stephanie's blog, here.

in media res: a blog conversation part II

   

 

 

We continue the series begun yesterday, with David, Stephanie, and myself.

Yesterday, I shared fiction, today, David reflects with haunting narrative nonfiction, as Stephanie so well described it, "A true story of dying in media res, and how the living can provide the last chapter of an unfinished story."

Let David words wrap you up ...

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He went there every fall, with his dog, to a little garage in the mountains. Around it was a plot of land with young pine trees. He would go out every morning to check on all the saplings, make sure they were supported, growing up. It’s where he went to reflect, and while he wandered between the trees, the dog would run and play in the fields.

He was divorced, and he loved that dog. But one year, she got sick, and he had to take her for emergency care in the town. But she couldn’t be helped. The dog died abruptly. And the death pushed him over the edge.

He left the forest and drove home, “worse than a drunk,” he described it. When he got home, he took a bottle of pills from his bathroom, swallowed most of them—then right before it killed him, he called for help. He couldn’t do it. He wasn’t ready for his story to end.

After two weeks of intense treatment, he got put on medication. Something for his depression, something else for anxiety. He had a bad thyroid, and his emotions would fluctuate more than most people.

But he started to stabilize, and after a while, he decided to simplify his life and move on: sell some things, give away money, volunteer for a local politician. He even started going to church, and after two years of that, he decided that he was going to be a missionary.

Keep reading this beautiful work over at David's blog, here.