Category: uncategorized


Raising Boys

RadicalDiscipleship's avatarRadical Discipleship

20180722_114619By Lydia Wylie-Kellermann. Published in Geez Magazine‘s most recent issue on Gender Flex.

“Mommy, baby is tired. I need to put baby in the pack and walk,” says Cedar, my two-year-old. I quickly design a make shift baby carrier tying his baby doll to his stomach. He walks back and forth across the house and then stops and sways. After five minutes, he heavy sighs and says disappointedly “baby is still awake.” He walks on mumbling to himself about how baby needs his milk and how the baby is too little to drink water out of a cup and baby just needs his milk.

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The Bridge – Joy Cowley

grown up holding hands with a child joy cowley poem bridges

There are times in life
when we are called to be bridges,
not a great monument spanning a distance
and carrying loads of heavy traffic
but a simple bridge
to help one person from here to there
over some difficulty
such as pain, fear, grief, loneliness,
a bridge which opens the way
for ongoing journey.

When I become a bridge for another,
I bring upon myself a blessing, for I escape
from the small prison of self
and exist for a wider world,
breaking out to be a larger being
who can enter another’s pain
and rejoice in another’s triumph.

I know of only one greater blessing
in this life, and that is
to allow someone else
to be a bridge for me.

Joy Cowley
Featherston, Wairarapa #NZWOMANPOETS

 

yellow flowers from autumn leaves

Look at the leaves, look how they fall for you
And everything you do.
Yeah, they were all yellow…

#anotherkindofcoldplay #groan #winterblooms

brown butterfly lands on floral dress

In the middle of our porridge plates
There was a blue butterfly painted
And each morning we tried who should reach the
butterfly first.
Then the Grandmother said: “Do not eat the poor
butterfly.”
That made us laugh.
Always she said it and always it started us laughing.
It seemed such a sweet little joke.
I was certain that one fine morning
The butterfly would fly out of our plates,
Laughing the teeniest laugh in the world,
And perch on the Grandmother’s lap.

Katherine Mansfield
Wellington #NZWOMANPOETS

Why is Grandpa in Jail?

We will teach our children justice. This is a beautiful story by Lydia Wylie-Kellermann for her son… and her Dad. If you are thinking, why go to protests? …why resist? the answers are here.

RadicalDiscipleship's avatarRadical Discipleship

33116241_10214353738810852_6880318968586829824_oBy Lydia Wylie-Kellermann

I wrote this as a children’s book for Isaac during the Poor People’s Campaign. He was very concerned about why Grandpa kept going to jail when we were also teaching about how we dont believe in jails and prisons. So, I wrote this to try to explain it to him. We printed it out and he and Cedar and Ira and their friend helped illustrate it as a birthday gift to my dad.

Why is Grandpa in jail?
We don’t like jails. We think they shouldn’t exist.

If people make bad choices, there are better ways to help them be better.
Talking.
Caring.
Paying attention to what they need.
Teaching.
Loving.

Locking people up for years of their life only….
Takes them away from their families.
Makes people feel lonely.
Takes them away from the sun and the trees.

It is a broken, sad system.

So, why…

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Eden’s egg

eggs by eden pham poem

Insightful and inspiring and grounded, Bill Wylie Kellerman speaks truth here on powers and principalities you will feel resonate in your sternum…

RadicalDiscipleship's avatarRadical Discipleship

BillFrom Bill Wylie-Kellermann’s newest release Dying Well: The Resurrected Life of Jeanie Wylie-Kellermann:

…in the course of Jeanie’s illness and death, I’ve not really found myself angry with God. I never really raged against the locked doors of heaven, or demanded to know why the Divine should permit such bad things happening to one so good as she. I suspect a reason for this that is theological. I wager it has to do with our shared biblical view of the powers.

Getting the principalities, the fallen authorities and structures of power, onto the map of social ethics changes ones political view, as with the strike or nonviolent resistance. Getting them onto the pastoral map likewise modifies the formula for everything from prayer to, yes, grief. In prayer, it means that while God may hear the groans and yearnings of the heart, and wills to meet and answer those needs…

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Wild Daisies bub bridger love poems nz new zealand woman female poets

 

If you love me
Bring me flowers
Wild daisies
Clutched in your fist
Like a torch
No orchids or roses
Or carnations
No florist’s bow
Just daisies
Steal them
Risk your life for them
Up the sharp hills
In the teeth of the wind
If you love me
Bring me daisies
Wild daisies
That I will cram
In a bright vase
And marvel at

Bub Bridger
Napier #NZWOMANPOETS

 

Fitzroy in Fall

the sum of what we don't know