Book Therapy: Carry On Warrior

Currently Reading: Without Reservations: The Travels of an Independent Woman by Alice Steinbach and The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan

Never underestimate the power of book therapy. After writing this post last week, I spotted a book sitting on the new shelf at work that was on my list but not on my "in-the-near-future" list. On a whim, I grabbed it, thinking it might be just the thing to heal me and give me some answers. Don't tell me God doesn't find a way to put the perfect book in our hands, right when we need it. He's done it for me before and He did it again.

I've been reading Glennon Melton's blog at Momastery.com for almost a year now. She is funny, witty, sharp, inspiring, and downright relatable. Her blog, unlike others I read, is not about sharing perfect pictures or adorably cute stories about her perfectly dressed kids. It's real and raw, a memoir of sorts, highlighting the beautiful and hilarious alongside the difficult and challenging. Her newly published book, Carry On Warrior, is all of that times twelve. She writes about herself, but in a way that makes you feel like she is writing about you. A former drug addict, alcoholic, and bulimic, Glennon found her healing in writing, in expressing the real and the honest, in being true to her own voice. Hers is a fresh voice, one I had heard in my own soul but not in many other places. But as I've found through the book and in connecting with readers through her blog, we all carry a similar but unique voice within ourselves.

Momastery and Carry On Warrior are like that, a place to go to understand that we are not alone, that we all struggle and mess up and have bad hair days. It's no judgment, it's acceptance, it's community. The words at the top of the blog's page says, "Momastery is where we practice living bigger, bolder, and truer on this earth. Where we remember what we already know: We can do hard things, Love wins, and We belong to each other." Holy amen. That is exactly how I want to live my life and my faith. Faith and living are not solitary endeavors. As both the book and the blog prove, when we accept others, when we share our problems and difficulties, connecting over the funny and the hard, when we all start admitting that we are not perfect, there is no more pressure. Because we realize we are all perfectly imperfect. We can concentrate on the real things in life, not the unimportant things. We can tell the truth about ourselves. We can open ourselves up to each other. We can be honest to the person we are. We don't have to pretend to be someone we're not. In a world where the pressure mounts daily to do everything just so, and to be a certain type of person, this book and Glennon's blog is a refreshing wake-up call. Life is about MORE. More than fitting into a mold or hiding who we are. Life is about finding our passions and being there for each other and teaching our kids about Love and finding the God inside ourselves and each other.

Some of my favorite essays in Carry On Warrior discuss faith and our responsibility toward others. Like me, Glennon holds some beliefs that would probably get us both thrown out of some Bible studies. We are hard-core Christians, and we define ourselves as such. But we also love gay people and believe they go to heaven too. We believe that all religions follow the true God, just in different ways. We believe following Jesus goes above and beyond following the Bible. Do you know how long I've wanted to write these beliefs but have been too scared to do so? I suppose I had good reason, since anytime I have ventured to voice my faith, I have been knocked down. By God-fearing family, no less. But guess what. I'm not hiding anymore. (Even if I'm a teensy bit nervous about posting everything I just wrote.) Reading Carry On Warrior, I realized I am not alone. And isn't that the biggest blessing of life, the biggest gift God can give us? He gave us each other. I loved Glennon's discussion of the meaning of Namaste, which Mother Teresa used to repeat to anyone she met. It means, "The divine spark in me recognizes and honors the divine spark in you." We all have God in us, baby. The God in us allows us to connect with the world, with the people around us, because God is in all of them too. In the last week alone, that sentence, that Namaste, has changed the way I react to people. In a good way, in the greatest way. I am still traveling down this faith-and-life journey of mine, but now I can see that I always will be. I will never have it "figured out." But that is something to embrace, not fix. I don't have a "life plan" but I do have a goal now, one that involves working on running into my life and not away from it. The feelings from last week aren't necessarily gone, but I feel less alone in those feelings than I did.

Carry On Warrior is rejuvenating. I want to stand on the highest peak I can find and shout out my heart, because this book reminded me that it is safe and wise and OK to do that. By sharing my heart and my thoughts with others, I could get burned. I could be judged. I have been before. But more likely, I will just find better, deeper connections with God and with other people. And that will be a glorious, holy thing.

If you decide to read it too, let me know. I'm dying to discuss this book.

Happenings

Currently Reading: The Selected Letters of Louisa May Alcott, The Guynd by Belinda Rathbone, and Life After Life by Kate Atkinson

May is here! Blessedly, my semester is winding down and I am feeling the first breaths of freedom mingling with the scent of spring. My shoulders already feel lighter and I am ready for several weeks of catching up on projects (including some new recipes I'm aching to try) and taking time for reading, walks in the evenings, and ice cream stops with Nate.

Some happenings from the past two weeks:

My seedlings have sprouted! (No picture this time, but I'll get one soon.) The sight of those first little green shoots, poking out of the soil after only several days, gave me such a feeling of awe. Biology aside, there is something entirely magical about the Earth, her resilience and fecundity, the amazing results that come from the harmony of sun, soil, and water. I have always needed to be close to the Earth, shedding my shoes so my bare toes can sink into the grass, pressing my back against trees as I read underneath them, watching the ever-changing sky. Growing up in the country, and part-time on a dairy farm for some years, I was in constant contact with the world around me. I have memorized scents and sounds that I carry with me, that are part of me like the marrow in my bones. So much of my experiences were prompted and encouraged by my parents and my grandparents. My sister and I were raised to be part of the outdoor world, to appreciate it and to care for it. I yearn for the day when we have our own acres to roam on, so that my children can experience many of the same things I did: the taste of carrots pulled from the ground, dirt still clinging to them; the sight of clothes flapping on the line; watching deer at the pond; rescuing crows and baby ducks; making forts and fairy places amidst the trees; letting the magic of nature influence their creativity and ideas. If I hope to pass anything on to my children, it will be our strong connection to the land, and our responsibility to take care of it, emphasizing the magnitude and privilege of that responsibility.
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Nathan has a new part-time job at a living history museum for the summer, which is good news for him and for our pocketbook! He's learning all sorts of amazing historical skills, including fence building and blacksmithing; last week, during training, he got to hold a baby lamb. I couldn't be more envious. He really is an amazing teacher and that translates well into museum work. He knows how to talk to tour groups, how to pass on historical information in ways that are accessible to all age groups. I'm proud of how he has accepted the difficulties and disappointments of not finding a teaching job, and how he strives to find ways to use his talents and follow his passion. His career plans have not followed the path he once imagined, but he does not let that discourage him. He throws himself into the work he does, passionate about all of it, regardless of what it is. He is dedicated, with a strong work ethic, willing to do whatever needs to be done, and I ardently admire that. Sometimes he feels that he doesn't do enough for us, that he could do more. But I think he's Superman.
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I met Dr. Jane Goodall last week.


I'm leaning over awkwardly, barely breathing. She looks stunning, as always.

In a conversation with the woman sitting next to me at the conference, I mentioned that Dr. Goodall was one of my role models growing up. The lady then asked if I had gone into science; when I said no, she laughed and said Dr. Goodall couldn't have been that much of a role model for me. That comment left me speechless for a second. As a young girl, I didn't see her as just a scientist; I saw her as a woman who stuck to her guns, pursued her passion, and made something of herself. Deep down, I think I recognized that I could be like her. Maybe not literally, with chimps in Africa (though at the time, I thought that was the coolest job in the world) but that I too could accomplish anything if I believed in myself. (Cliche? Maybe so, but also a deeply important concept for my young self.) Instead of boy band posters, my walls were papered with posters of animals and Dr. Goodall. She was an inspiration to me, someone I wanted to be when I grew up. I remember thinking we even looked the same, pleased at the semi-similarities- blond, ponytail, plain shorts and T-shirts. No makeup, no fancy hairdo. In my awkward tween years, I appreciated that. Even at 11, I recognized that she had accomplished amazing things by her intelligence and determination alone. I was in awe of her. And in fact, you don't have to be a scientist to appreciate Dr. Goodall, to be inspired by her. I think it makes absolute sense that she can be a role model for any young girl, because of what she accomplished, because of her drive, because she didn't let her gender define her in the field. I still find her awe-inspiring. I cried when she took the stage, as I stood up with the crowd to hoot and cheer. Right before this picture was taken, I looked her in the eye and told her it was nice to meet her. "It's nice to meet you too," she replied. And that was that. I may not be a scientist, but I know she made a difference in my life.
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Tomorrow is my Mom's birthday. As I've gotten older, I've come to appreciate my mom more and more, appreciative of not only everything she has done for my sister and I, but also appreciative of who she is as a person. We share so many similiarities and we've gotten closer as friends. I love calling her up after a day at work to chat and laugh. Like all of my parents, she has been one of the guiding forces of my life, encouraging us, supporting us, teaching us. Happy Birthday to a wonderful mother! I'm so blessed to have you in my life.

 
Reading at Oma's house. I love old pictures.
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Book talks. Books are best when we share and discuss them with others. Thankfully, I work in a library, so I get to talk books constantly. Just this morning, I talked Antigone, Oedipus, Silas Marner, Toni Morrison, and Ethan Frome with my coworkers. The other day, I received a book loan in the mail from my aunt, a memoir set in Scotland, which just goes to show how well my aunt knows my reading tastes. And last night I had a great discussion with one of my best friends on a book we both recently read, Among Others. Just a ten-minute conversation about God and free will and destiny, but it was so refreshing, a reinforcement of our connection and our friendship in one quick book discussion. Sharing books is so much more than just recommending. It strengthens and reinforces our relationships with each other in a way that is hard to emulate in other aspects. Life doesn't offer us many opportunities to bare our souls and reveal what is there beneath the surface. But by sharing books, we are given the chance to open a window that may otherwise remain closed, offering others the opportunity to see deeper within us.
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And finally, my latest used book sale finds.


Why yes, that is my eighteenth Jane Eyre.

There isn't much in this world that beats bringing home a stack of books that cost less than 10 bucks. We did well- Nathan got a stack too. The only downside is that we have started making piles of books on the floor, as our bookshelves can no longer support our terrible book-buying habits. Oh well. Sacrifices must be made. Who needs floor space anyway?

Have a great weekend, friends!

Blooming Amidst the Thorns

Currently Reading: Dubliners by James Joyce

Well, today was not the day I was hoping for. I hoped I would be sitting in Panera, eating a delicious quiche, and suddenly get a phone call from my husband telling me he got the job- the teaching job he has been waiting for and worked so hard for and gone through two rounds of interviews for. And then I would scream in the middle of this crowded restaurant while everyone looked at me like I was insane but I wouldn't care because our prayers would finally be answered and my husband would finally be a teacher.

But no. I am sitting in a Panera with a caramel latte and a bagel, trying to squash the big tumor of disappointment and sadness that grew in my stomach in the two seconds it took for my husband to check his email this morning and tell me, "I didn't get it." In those two seconds, the sun got darker and the doors in our figurative hallway seemed to slam shut.

We have dealt with disappointment before. In this economy, with the teaching profession difficult to break into, we have gone through three years of applications, resumes, hoping, praying, waiting, only to end in a helpless sadness that barges in like an unwelcome houseguest. And while we trust in God's plan and always feel better in the morning, that initial disappointment never gets easier to bear.

But life goes on and we smile and pick ourselves up and remind each other of all the things we have and everything we are looking forward to: growing herbs on our balcony, going to Ireland, watching Shakespeare plays, making a summer reading list, going to Madison's Dairy Expo. You know, the things that really count.
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In the midst of reading Eden's Outcasts (which I finished and loved and even wept over... stay tuned for another blog post on that one... it was too good not to discuss it more), a certain book came in the mail that I had ordered several months ago: a memoir called Bloom: Finding Beauty in the Unexpected. Discussing it today is just the medicine I need right now- just another example that God truly pulls the perfect book off of the shelf right when we need it.



I have been following Kelle Hampton's blog, "Enjoying the Small Things" for almost a year now. Kelle writes honestly and openly about her life- raising two girls, discovering her purpose, enjoying life. She is a phenomenal writer, as well as an amazingly talented photographer and her passions find full release through her lovely blog. I have found inspiration, laughs, and a great read every time I visit. Two years ago, Kelle gave birth to her second daughter, a beautiful, perfect girl who happened to have Down Syndrome. This came as a blow to Kelle and her family, who had never known or expected it. Lying in her hospital bed, Kelle saw all of the plans and hopes she had envisioned for her life and her girls disappear. The next year was a whirlwind of emotions and anxieties for Kelle, but also a time of personal growth and the blossoming of a deep love affair between Kelle and her baby Nella. It was also a learning experience, as Kelle wrestled with her life's expectations and coming to terms with the changes she now had to embrace. Bloom documents this life-changing year as Kelle honestly shares her thoughts and worries, and explores how this once shocking diagnosis changed her outlook on her expectations and taught her how to bloom where you are planted. Coupled with her amazing photographs, this book really is like opening a door into her life and discovering an amazing woman, mother, wife, and friend.

Kelle's blog has always inspired me to relish the little things in my life and encouraged my "glass half full" mentality. But this book truly took me inside her struggles as a mother who only wants the best for her little girls. Her open honesty made me cry multiple times as I read, but much of her writing made me laugh out loud, for not only is she freakin' hilarious, but she writes as though she is sitting there with you, with pajamas on and tea in hand at the world's best slumber party. I may not be a mother yet, but my soul ached for her and cheered with her as she discovered the new and unexpected, but no less beautiful, life that she has been blessed with.

Today, Nella is a beautiful two-year-old, talking and walking, and cute as a button. Kelle's new life experiences has turned into a crusade for educating others on DS and raising money for the National Down Syndrome Society, in order to promote the wellbeing of all individuals with DS. Her work is inspiring and her attitude toward life even more so. I find it amazing to see how Kelle turned an unexpected twist in life into something so positive; we can all take a leaf out of her book.


Photo courtesy of Kelle HamptonNo matter where we are in life, disappointment and unplanned surprises will rock our world. Ironically enough, I am struggling with a big mug of disappointment even today. But these instances test our character and reveal who we truly are. Sure, I often get stressed over unimportant details in life. But I like to think that when my boat is rocked, I handle it with more grace than I knew I had. It is a great reassurance to hear how others handle adversity and find that no one is alone in their struggles. I truly realized, through Kelle's story, that if life is too comfortable, we tend to take it for granted. Instead, it's the struggles which make the triumphs sweeter. The perfect life does exist, but it is all in our perspective. A good reminder for me today... and every day, for that matter.
If you need an inspiring, thought-provoking, and lovely read, please buy Bloom. It is too good to pass up.
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It's amazing how much better I feel after writing it all out. Forget therapy- this blog is the perfect therapist, complete with couch and tissues. That felt good.

Before I go, I want to give a shout-out to a new blog I have discovered that I think you all will enjoy. Jillian is my new blogger friend and name twin who shares my love of literature and writing about her reading journey. Her writing is beautiful and her posts range from funny to inspiring. Check her out!

What are some of the simple things that make life sweeter for you? I'd love to hear about it! Have a great week!

Book Fate

Spring's a'coming! As I drove home from a friend's house this morning, with the Civil Wars blasting in my car and the sun warming up the picture-perfect farm fields all around me, I felt as if my soul awoke after a long winter of hibernation. Driving through God's creation is like attending a worship service, just as powerful and just as beneficial.

Three books in three weeks- my track record has been pretty good so far and I have enjoyed all three, each one vastly different from the other. So here for your perusal are the random thoughts that accompanied each book, during and after reading. Tonight, I'll discuss Frank Delaney's The Last Storyteller.

I believe in book fate. There have been times in my life where I have found myself reading the perfect book for the circumstance I am going through, completely by accident. Just like God brings certain people into our lives at opportune moments, I think sometimes He sees what we're going through and pulls the perfect book from the shelf. The Last Storyteller was my travel companion when I went to my Opa's several weeks ago to sit with him, celebrate his life, and say goodbye. As I sat there at home the next day, soaking in everything that had happened, I read voraciously. Reading is therapy, and Frank Delaney delivered. Delaney is a true storyteller, the kind one reads about in the old Irish tales about seanchai and wandering bards, weaving tales from thin air. When I listen to him read his books, I imagine him in the old tradition, pipe in hand, wreathed in smoke from a hearth fire. His voice makes each word and letter resonate, physically vibrate with depth and substance; it's an otherworldly experience.

The Last Storyteller was the final installment of a three part series, one that is part love story, part coming of age story and entirely captivating. It follows Ben MacCarthy, a collector of Irish mythology for the Irish Folklore Commission, who has wandered the Irish countryside for decades, trying to understand his own life and the decisions he has made. Bereft of his true love, he finds solace in his memories, the words of his mentor, and the stories he collects. It was comforting to return to these places that had become so familiar to me in Venetia Kelly's Traveling Show and The Matchmaker of Kenmare. It was rewarding to revisit Ben, and James Clare, and even Billy "Flocking" Maloney. But the theme of this trilogy that especially resonated with me throughout Opa's last days and beyond was the advice James Clare gives Ben in the first novel and continues to emphasize throughout Ben's life. As James says, "Every legend and all mythologies exist to teach us how to run our days. In kind fashion. A loving way. But there's no story, no matter how ancient, as important as one's own. So if we're to live good lives, we have to tell ourselves our own story. In a good way." Oh, I love those lines. Ben's quest for the love of his life also becomes a quest to tell his own story. In The Last Storyteller, Ben is finally able to do so, to evaluate and understand his life. And it is beautiful to see.

I love stories. I have had people ask why I never studied literature (although I argue, technically I do... I just don't have a degree for it). But the reason I went into history is because I have found that the past is where we find the real stories, the true drama of human existence. Through studying history, I have been privy to the stories of men and women from Crete to Mississippi. When we live our lives, they don't seem glamorous or monumental. Daily life is just that.. marked by seconds, minutes, and hours that are equal parts triumph and disappointment, peace and stress, joy and sadness. But when we see our lives and our world today as acts in a larger play, or a chapter in a larger tale, it starts to make sense. We can see how we fit into the broader scheme of things and even how we can change it. We can look back on the stories of those that have inhabited this Earth before us and see how their stories affect ours and even how ours mimics theirs. But we have to be open to it, we have to realize the potential that comes from our collective stories. There is so much to discover when we learn to listen.

I believe I was fated to read The Last Storyteller, with its emphasis on looking back to understand one's life and the importance of sharing our stories, just as my Opa stepped from this life into the next. The book helped me grieve and made it easier to focus on the gift of life, as well as death. During the past two years, I made it a point to ask Opa for his stories, and record them for my family and my descendants. And I saw with what joy he looked back on the life he had lived and recounted details and moments that may have seemed trivial, but all added up into making him who he was. I believe we can learn from everyone's story and I know I learned much from Opa's. My job now is to make my life worthy so that I may tell him a good story when I meet him again.

The Lesson of the Rubber Band

Last year, there was an entire week where I wore a single rubber band around my wrist. Nothing flashy, nothing colorful. A plain, flesh-colored, dirty rubber band.

That week, I had walked into work to find two books waiting for me on the back table that had just arrived from Inter-Library Loan. One was an audiobook, one a new release, and I had been waiting for weeks with bated breath for both to arrive. And there they were- waiting for me, arriving on the same day and banded together like a beautiful Christmas present in the middle of a soggy February. I took off the rubber band encircling the books and slipped it on my wrist, no doubt because I planned on depositing it in the nearest drawer. Yet I wore it for the rest of the night, and then into the following week. At first, it wasn't deliberate- but every time I started to take it off, I remembered the inexplicable joy and tingling excitement of seeing those books and knowing they were finally mine to explore. I never wanted to lose that feeling. So I kept it on.

I thought about that today because for some reason or other, I wound up with another rubber band on my wrist. This time it was just because I needed a place to put it, but when I glanced at it tonight, I remembered that moment a year ago and smiled. I needed a reason to smile. And a thought flashed into my mind like a snapshot- no matter what happens in our lives or what difficulties we face, there is always a reason to anticipate the future and relish in the opportunities we have stretching out before us.

Like opening a brand-new book. Enjoying a mug of tea. Taking a walk in the fresh air. Strolling through aisles at the bookstore. Buying a new outfit. Waking up to the smell of fresh-baked bread. Cuddling your niece. Making a home-cooked meal. Packing for a trip. Or celebrating the life of someone you miss.

There is so much around us. We just have to notice it, anticipate it.... and celebrate it. Even if you do so by wearing a plain rubber band.


Me and my Opa