Few Favorite Reads of 2018

I love the structure of my book club. We use our January meeting to select ten books for the year and our December meeting for fellowship and title reviews. We had a lovely visit this month and were even blessed with a musical offering from one member who has taken up the dulcimer. Sadly, the year wasn't one to write home about. Apart from two books that stood out as excellent reads (and indeed, made my blog favorites list), the other books were less-than-stellar. We ended up observing that 2016 was a far better year for book club selections (indeed, that year, I wrote this favorites post where I couldn't narrow them down to fewer than 16 excellent reads).

As  I perused my list from 2018, I could only come up with three young adult titles, two adult fiction titles, and one adult non-fiction title billed as highly-recommended. I'm hoping I make better use of my time and reading energies (flagging at the moment) in 2019. Here are the 2018 favorites I CAN highly recommend (for reviews, simply click on the title):

Young Adult:

Trouble by Gary D. Schmidt

Orbiting Jupiter by Gary D. Schmidt

Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech

Adult Fiction:

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Adult Non-fiction:

Thunderstruck by Erik Larson

In looking back over my list of titles, I would give honorable mentions to two middle grade novels:

Faith, Hope, and Ivy June by Phyllis Reynolds Nayor

Penny from Heaven by Jennifer L. Holm

one adult fiction title:

The Music Shop by Rachel Joyce

and three adult non-fiction titles:

The Genius Factory by David Plotz

I Can Only Imagine by Bart Millard with Robert Noland

She Has Her Mother's Laugh by Carl Zimmer

What were your favorite books read in 2018?

May your 2019 be a stellar reading year! If you add any of these books, it will certainly boost it along.

Book Review: The Mistletoe Secret

It just seems fitting to seek out Christmas novels during the holiday season. Moreover, Richard Paul Evans is billed as "the master of the holiday novel." So, I embarked on my second audio experience of an Evans Christmas story with The Mistletoe Secret. Sadly, I thought this tale was more tiresome than festive. It was a quick and easy experience, but several things grated on my nerves.

I'm not sure why, but I have found this true of several other novels by this author - there is a fixation on food and travel elements. The story comes off sounding like a sales brochure by a travel company. But, even more annoying than that are the constant references to what the characters are eating in the moment. Jerry Jenkins (an author eager to assist other authors) calls this "on-the-nose" writing. You really don't want to tell the reader every single detail of action, down to the food consumed and the toiletries purchased at the drugstore. You want to cut to the chase, make every word count. Otherwise, the reader tires of hearing the mundane and unnecessary details. It slows down the story.

Having said that, it wasn't a total waste. After all, it was about hope and love and the holiday season. Moreover, Evans always manages to provide a clean read and I value that immensely.

When Alex Bartlett stumbles onto an anonymous blog about loneliness, he is drawn to the woman behind the words. He is still smarting from the wounds of his recent divorce and can easily identify with her thoughts on loneliness. She, unwittingly, lets slip a few clues and Alex is off to Midway, Utah to seek out the woman who signs her blog posts with the simple initials LBH. While on the hunt for a woman with those initials, Alex meets Aria, a waitress at the Mistletoe Diner. The two hit it off immediately, but will Alex's interest in Aria keep him from concluding his search.

I think next year, I'll seek out some Karen Kingsbury Christmas novelettes - I know her Red Glove series is fantastic because I've read them before. For now, I'm swearing off R.P.E. for a while. Now that I've met him, like Alex, I'm thinking I was really seeking someone else entirely.

Merry Christmas 2018!

One of the best things about Christmas is having all my boys together in one place. Last night, they spent most of their Christmas Eve playing Rock Band together (Bryce on drums, Trevor on bass, and Sean on guitar). I love to watch them in this endeavor. If only it had remained an observation activity. Alas, they wanted to break 1,500,000 on a song, so they asked me to be a fourth player and sing into the microphone. What a horrible experience! First off, I didn't even know the song and the words come at you quickly and you just have to sort of guess what pitch you should be on. I hated every minute of it (felt like a detriment, rather than a help to them) and was so glad when they decided to put Trevor on drums and prop up the microphone so Bryce could play bass and sing at the same time. Finally, they reached their goal.

One of my gifts to John this Christmas is a small squirrel photo holder (he loves his birds and squirrels and feeds them daily). I needed a decent photo of the boys together. Here they are, with Toby, in front of the tree (no, those gifts beneath the tree aren't exactly "pared down" the way I intended - oh well):

May you have a blessed Christmas and may 2019 bring peace and joy. Thanks for reading my paltry offerings and opinionated book reviews.

Christmas Gift to Myself

Ever since my husband voiced his intentions to rid our front hallway of the ancient furnishings there (can be seen in this old blog post when it inspired a poem), I've had my eye out for a storage bench to replace the ancient dresser. I love that I can store the hats and gloves in the lower drawer and all the school supplies in the second and special recognition pages (and all those lovely grade school journals they wrote that I will never be able to part with) in the top drawer of that old dresser, so I'm worried I will actually miss it (though not the appearance of it). I've already bought baskets to move the hats and gloves to the shelves in the garage, but would love to still have ready access to their school supplies right there by the front door (they are forever begging for a pencil just before they leave for school). Although I've scoured the various options available on-line, I also have kept my ear to the ground on Craigslist, checking the listings every other day. So far, no luck.

Instead, it led me to a listing for a beautiful side table with a lyre motif. I have two marble end tables in my living room that have the same lyre motif, so I was smitten at first glance. The difficulty arose when I noticed the location of the seller - Muncie, Indiana - a full hour and a half away. Still, undaunted, I contacted the seller and asked if she is ever any closer to Indianapolis so that we could cut the drive time down. She agreed to meet me in Greenfield, where her son lives. Even though it was still almost an hour's drive, I was determined. This is the beautiful lyre end table I bought as a Christmas present to myself:

And here is a shot of one of my two marble end tables:

So, how about you? Do you buy presents for yourself? What's the best Christmas gift you've bought for yourself?

Book Review: Finding Noel

As soon as I began listening to this Richard Paul Evans holiday book, Finding Noel, I realized it sounded very familiar. After completing the first of four CDs, I checked my blog. Sure enough, I read the book back in December of 2010, but I'm guessing back then (at the outset of blogging) I didn't feel compelled to post with any regularity or to post a book review for almost every book I read. Since I had listed it as one of my favorite reads for that year, and hadn't written a review, I decided to continue on with the story.

Finding Noel tells the story of two seeking souls who meet and fall in love. Mark Smart has just lost his mother but didn't find out in time to attend her funeral. It feels as if his life is falling apart. Estranged from his father, he's at the end of his rope when his car breaks down one winter night. In a desperate effort to track down a phone, he pounds on the door of a closing cafe and the night shift girl, Macy, not only provides a phone, but also consoles him, offers him a cup of hot chocolate, and drives him home. As their lives intersect, Mark and Macy divulge their difficult childhoods and bond over past wounds, but can they forge out a future for themselves when they are both running from so much personal pain?

It is funny how stories sometimes pale for me the second time around. This has happened repeatedly (with The Book Thief, All the Light We Cannot See, Peace Like a River, and now this once favorite holiday read). I enjoyed this book, and the timing was perfect, but I would not select this as a favorite read this year. It was sweet and tender, but not above the bar, by any means. And any character named Tennis who is engaged to a man named Ball? Give me a break! Still, if you're on the hunt for a simple holiday tale, Richard Paul Evans is usually a good bet.

Book Review: The Case for Grace

Several months ago, I watched Lee Strobel's story played out in the movie "The Case for Christ." Strobel, a staunch atheist, was deeply disturbed by his wife's conversion to Christianity. He set out to prove to her logically that her beliefs were based on fantasies and fictions. Instead, the further he dug, the more convinced he became that the accounts of the Bible and the experiences of God's people are true. After a thorough examination of the evidence, Strobel accepted Christ as his Lord and Savior and began to plead "the case for Christ."

In this follow-up book, like other books in his Case series, Strobel explores grace as experienced in the lives of unlikely converts. Through interviews with a variety of desperate individuals, Strobel demonstrates the power of God's grace to transform lives. He talks with an abandoned Korean orphan, despised and rejected by others; a hardened drug addict; the rebellious son of an evangelist; a pastor caught in adultery; and others whose lives were changed when God stepped in. It was amazing to read of the forgiveness these individuals were able to give to the ones who harmed them and even to themselves. Throughout the stories and interviews, Strobel grapples with his own need to forgive his distant father (indeed, many atheists develop under a harsh, fractured father-child relationship). If God's grace could forgive Lee Strobel, then certainly Lee could come to forgive his own father.

If you are seeking evidence of God's grace in the lives of others. If you don't believe His grace could extend to the likes of you. Think again and read this book. Strobel's writing is clear and engaging. He extracts difficult truths with the skill of a heart-surgeon. Moreover, you can feel his own personal response to the grace demonstrated.  I was especially touched, near the end, by a story he shares about a personal failing he agonized over in shattering guilt. If Strobel can find a way to forgive himself for his perceived wrongs, then perhaps I can learn to forgive myself for the many ways I have failed others throughout my life. Only grace makes that possible and Strobel is just the journalist to present this case for grace.

Book Gifts for a New Adult

As much as I love receiving books as gifts, I also love gifting them. Alas, my boys have never really been too thrilled to receive a book gift. They smile, say thank you, and set it aside as one of the lesser gifts. This year, although tempted to get Sean the newest Diary of a Wimpy Kid book (he's already read the library's copy and John declared it would just sit on the shelf), I will probably skip book gifts for both of my younger sons (sob). However, I took great joy in researching the gift books I have selected for my oldest, Bryce. He is now out on his own and has said that after a full day of work, he really has a limited selection of options for meals in the evenings. I scoured the library shelves first to locate the best cookbooks to meet his needs.

Spoon University's How to Feed Yourself* When You Don't Know What You're Doing (not sure he'll like the second half of that title, but ... it is what it is) offers "100 fast, cheap, and reliable recipes." Written by a couple of twenty-something girls, it is directed to new adults who are relatively new to the expectations of preparing their own meals. I love the full graphic images of the recipes and the simple "spoon tips." The recipes all seem like something my twenty-two-year-old son could easily whip up in no time. The only thing I would change about this book is the section on vegetables. They offer three easy ways to prepare them, but leave off one of the best options, in my opinion: steaming. Still, the cover is appealing, the book is resourceful, and I think he will get some good use out of it.

The second cookbook I selected, Lickety-Split Meals, gives me a little pause, but only because of the cover. It is a bit more feminine than I would like for gifting to a twenty-something male. If I had been in charge of the cover, I would have selected a minute-timer alongside the spatula and spoon, instead of a perky red-shirted woman. Yet, I still bought it because of the features that really make this cookbook stand out above the rest: the book offers recipes categorized according to time-limitations (1-minute-mini-meals, 5-minute meals, 15-minute meals, and 30 minute meals - I love this option because Bryce will be able to skim the recipes and select one based on how much time he feels he can give to meal preparation that particular day); the recipes are simple and easy foods, not exotic or unusual; the book contains 7 different pizza recipes, five stir-fry recipes, a dozen slow-cooker recipes (yes, he owns a slow-cooker), and a multitude of oven recipes; teaches how to equip your kitchen for speed; and, most unique, has a cardboard mount to prop the book upright for easy reading on your counter. Although I doubt he will use the final feature, I was really impressed with the wipe-erase menu planner on the inside of the front cover - a great place for jotting down necessary ingredients to add to a weekly shopping list. The recipes are geared toward healthy eating and I love the extra tips and discussions sprinkled throughout the book (a frozen grape tip - a treat my grandmother used to always have on hand; best time of day to exercise; choosing between butter and margarine; etc.). This book is a powerhouse! The fact that I managed to snag it for one-third of the price at Half-Price-Books only made this gift sweeter. Hopefully, Bryce will like it as much as I do (despite the girly feel).

The funny thing is, this will be the first year where almost a third of his gifts will be books (he actually plans to send a list of nine books he wants to read - is this really my book-averse son???). Thankfully, he doesn't read my blog - so the surprise is safe between you and me between now and Christmas morning! If you're on the look-out for an additional gift for your new adult, consider these two options. They might just be a perfect idea for you, as well.

Book Review: The Sunday Philosophy Club

Several things have thrown a monkey wrench into my morning treadmill routine. My mother-in-law came to visit for Thanksgiving and the treadmill resides in the guest room. Although she doesn't mind vacating to allow me to walk, I let my exercise routine slide a bit over the Thanksgiving holiday and then, due to new carpeting and other sundry complications, I missed several more days. Alas, I am wholly out of sorts and need to get back into the game.

All that to say, my sporadic exercise disjointed my listening experience for Alexander McCall Smith's first book in the Isabel Dalhousie series, The Sunday Philosophy Club. Perhaps that contributed to my lack of enthusiasm for the book. I much prefer the Number One Ladies' Detective Agency books. Isabel was likeable enough, but no Precious Ramotswe.

The action begins immediately when Isabel sees a man fall to his death from a balcony. Struck by the fact that hers was the last face he saw, she feels compelled to investigate the strange circumstances of his death, convinced that someone pushed him. She lures her niece's handsome young ex-boyfriend in to assist with her investigation and must ferret out information about insider trading, financial art investments, and tangled love interests.

Although it was a somewhat engrossing tale, I didn't enjoy certain aspects: discussions of sexual morals, tedious philosophical ruminations, and perhaps most unsettling, the older Isabel's private interest in her niece's ex-boyfriend, Jamie. Moreover, the ending felt weak. I must have listened to another Isabel Dalhousie novel because I was familiar with Isabel and the niece, with her unsuitable selections of male companions. I probably won't seek more of the series, but I imagine true Alexander McCall Smith fans or those interested in both Scotland and philosophy might find the series enticing.

Book Review: Almost Everything

Anne Lamott's newest book is called Almost Everything: Notes on Hope, but it felt like it might have been titled Almost Everything I've Ever Said Before. Sadly, not a lot of new material. If you've read Lamott's other non-fiction books, much of this is simply a reiteration of old ideas. Her famous "bird by bird" story appears again, and even though it does my heart a world of good (indeed, I sing that mantra to myself when my writing feels stale and uninspiring or the task before me seems well beyond my writing abilities), I still had hoped to glean new fodder.

While the prose is beautiful, so much of it feels wishy-washy or too nebulous to pin down. For example, here's a paragraph that is supposed to inspire hope:

"To pay close attention to and mostly accept your life, inside and out and around your body, is to be halfway home. An old woman in twelve-step recovery once told me that while there is an elaborate prayer in one of the steps, of turning one's life and all results over to the care of God, as each person understands God, she and some of the old-timers secretly pray upon waking, 'Whatever,' and pray before falling asleep, 'Oh, well.'"

The God I believe in is neither pluralistic nor a figment of every individual's personal interpretations or nicknames (she treats the holy God so casually, calling him "Ed," "Little Tree," "Old Hewlett Packard," or "Mr. Muffin"). She even calls her own faith a "consignment-store faith." In attempting to bring hope, she declares that there is no fixing this messed up world:

"There were moments when I understood that there was nothing much I was going to understand or figure out.... There is no fixing this setup here. It seems broken and ruined at times, but it isn't: it's simply the nature of human life."

Her message of hope: we are in this together and our love will conquer evil. It felt very much like a self-centered gospel as opposed to a Christ-centered gospel. She calls herself a Christian, yet treats God like He is dependent upon her views, her explanations, her names, her dictates. God is on her terms, not His. If there are things wrong in the world (alcoholism, political turmoil, wrongs against people, etc.) it is the result of human nature not sin and the solution is love and acceptance not salvation through Christ's atoning act on the cross.

While her views on religion and Christianity are loosey-goosey, in terms of political perspective, Lamott is fully convinced her personal beliefs are the right ones and anyone whose opinion differs is simply in the wrong. At one point, she boldly asserts that her views are most certainly God's views as well.

In the final analysis, I guess I just don't buy her assessment. She declares "Love is why we have hope." I believe in this sin-fractured despairing world, Christ is why we have hope. A holy God cannot tolerate sin, yet in His love (not ours) He provided the solution by sending His perfect son to die in our place, bridging the gap between a holy God and sinful mankind. As the old hymn declares, "My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness." My sinful nature has proven time and again that my own efforts to love fall severely short of what is demanded. It is only His love that brings hope to a fallen world.

Book Review: The Chilbury Ladies Choir

To be totally honest, I feel strapped for time to read simply for pleasure. In dedicating the five weeks starting November 1st to writing for the Lord, I settled in on a non-fiction project (not ready to disclose the details yet, but definitely excited about the prospects). The historical research for this project will take hours upon hours of time. I'm not reviewing the books I'm devouring and utilizing for the project.

In the meantime, I signed on to read The Chilbury Ladies Choir for an on-line book club Sheila from The Deliberate Reader hosts. I haven't taken much time for interacting with the group discussion, but did enjoy this book. It was an easy read about a small village enduring World War II. The book highlights the power of music to lift the soul amid the perils of war.

Jennifer Ryan presents realistic characters facing difficult quandaries. The book is told through the entries of war journals, diaries, and letters. The reader encounters a widow dreading her son's involvement in the war, two sisters seeking love relationships, a mid-wife willing to take a bold step for monetary gain, and a young Jewish refugee trying to find a new place in the world. By the end of the book, you know the village well and care about its occupants. If you are looking for a war story that highlights the resounding strength of women and the transformative power of music, this is the book for you!

Book Review: At the Water's Edge

A good many Nanowrimo novels will never see the light of day. Some writers will fail to finish the novels they begin. Some novels will remain in computer files without a single beta reader (many of mine). Others will receive unfavorable feedback from beta readers. Still, a few novels break out from the Nanowrimo birthing process to become full-fledged books you can find in your local library.

Well aware of Sara Gruen's reputation as one of the premier Nanowrimo success stories (for Water for Elephants), I have long wanted to attempt one of her books. I am not sure I would enjoy a circus book about elephants, but you never know; I loved The Night Circus, another Nanowrimo success. When I noticed At the Water's Edge in audio form, I bit the bullet and gave this author a try. I worried it could prove too racy and I might have to toss it aside. Thankfully, by the time risque sections popped up, I was in too deep to jump ship and more than willing to push the skip button to advance to the next track.

At the Water's Edge tells the story of a high society couple, Ellis and Madeline Hyde. After disgraceful drunken behavior at a party, Ellis' parents confront the two and throw them out of the house. The only way Ellis can think of regaining his father's respect (not to mention his money) is to flee to the Scottish Highlands to pursue his father's past quest to find and document the Loch Ness monster. Both Ellis and his friend, Hank, are despicable privileged men reeking of a sense of entitlement. The two men have evaded service in WWII on false pretenses and think nothing of taking Maddie across the seas during a war. Meanwhile, the author portrays Maddie as kind and down-to-earth but trapped in a marriage based upon a wager. While the two men repeatedly leave Maddie alone in their search for the monster, she befriends the laborers at the inn and steps out of her ordinary shoes to discover a whole new world.

While I didn't dislike the novel, it wasn't one of my favorites. Although the author did a fine job of creating believable characters and putting them in harm's way, I never really grew to like those characters. The author wanted the reader to sympathize with poor Maddie and her loveless plight, but apart from a willingness to help with the chores, she really didn't display many admirable characteristics. It presents her love for another man as justifiable and a positive thing among so many negatives swirling around her life. Plus, it is all wrapped up with a tidy bow; problem solved without lifting a finger, leaving the way open for Maddie to marry a much more deserving Scotsman.

Book Review: Peace Like a River

Years ago, when we moved from Illinois to Indiana, a dear writing group friend presented me with a parting gift, Leif Enger's book Peace Like a River, telling me it was one of her favorites. I'm guessing I consumed the book quickly not long after arriving. When the title appeared on this year's book club list, I tried hard to remember details but could only recall the vague impression of a chase after a fugitive from justice and a highly western feel (not my typical choice in books). I must have liked it enough to keep my copy all these years, so I was game to give it a second read.

Perhaps I liked it better the first time around. This time, it seemed an okay book, but I marveled that the L.A. Times considered it a "Best Book of the Year." The back cover declares it "a heroic quest, a tragedy, and a love story," rolled up in one. The endorsements reflect a general desire to see the ordinary become the extraordinary. The book released in 2001, so possibly we were simply a nation desperate for hope and faith amid gritty tragedy.

Reuben Land has always had difficulty breathing. From his first moments of life, when his pious father prayerfully commanded him to breathe, Reuben has believed in miracles. He tells the story of his eleventh year, the year his older brother, Davy, took justice into his own hands. Reuben's precocious younger sister Swede copes with the ensuing confusion by writing polished western ballads fraught with conflict between good and evil. However Reuben is intent upon bearing witness to the miraculous events surrounding his father and remaining loyal and true to his family.

The writing was splendid, and I enjoyed the humor sprinkled throughout (My favorite was a humorous passage where the brother and sister create sing-song rhymes about approaching a roadside gas pump and then the proprietor's hilarious responses to their interactions.) I appreciated the gentle nudge toward faith and belief in miracles, without heavy-handedness. This secular book with faith elements offers enough fodder for thought to get the reader pondering deeper issues of life.

Who knows? Maybe I was more in need of the miraculous myself at that earlier time in my life. Although it wasn't my favorite book club selection, I thoroughly enjoyed our discussion of the book. It enhanced my understanding of the themes and symbolism. I would call it a decent read, but I'm perplexed by the extent of favor. Enger's newest book, called Virgil Wander, released in early October and I'm tempted to give it a try.

A Boot At Last

Trevor broke his leg on August 14th. At the nine week point, he was so sure they would remove the cast and put him in a boot. He was heartbroken when they removed the initial cast and put on another one (this time one he could walk on with a special shoe) for an additional four weeks.

On Monday, he finally had that second cast removed and received the anticipated walking boot. At home, he can walk around on the leg (although he says it is quite weak - naturally - from months of disuse). Still no further word on the bone cyst, but at least he feels a bit more freedom:

90th Birthday Celebration

My husband comes from hearty stock! His grandmother lived to 92 and his mother celebrated her 90th birthday on Veteran's Day. She is healthier than most who live to be her age. No walkers! No canes! Few memory issues and minimal nuisance health complaints. Still as feisty as ever!

Most of the family (minus a few grandkids - 2 in colleges in Colorado and Washington, 2 who, as grown adults, work in distant states, and 1 who lives in Estonia) gathered to celebrate this grand achievement. She is thriving in her new apartment in a retirement community where she knows many other individuals. The facility is magnificent. I would welcome a visit anytime as they have an extensive library in the building and even a small puzzle nook. We enjoyed a family dinner in one of their private dining halls on Saturday evening:

Sunday morning, we all attended her Salvation Army corps (John and I even played in the band). The corps officer did a fine job of recognizing my mother-in-law's impact: first, she had all family members stand, then all individuals who had been touched in any way by Marilyn's generosity, witness, or influence. While my mother-in-law doesn't welcome attention drawn to herself, I think it was evidence of her intense desire to serve others.

After the service, church members gathered to celebrate her and enjoy cake together:

Several posters highlighted her full life. My boys reveled in one particular photo from the 80s, where John's hair is wavy and full - ha! Jill and her husband Bob arrived in time for us all to enjoy one more meal together in celebration (they had a wedding and couldn't make it for the first family meal on Saturday):

After a hushed word with the waitress, they brought out a huge dessert. But, I'm sure, the best gift of all for her was the joy of having so many family members gathered together in one place (something that doesn't happen often enough on my husband's side of the family).

Book Review: Hiking Through

Sometimes book recommendations come from unexpected and obscure sources. My cousin Karin (who came to visit back in July) has a young relative who is thru-hiking along the Appalachian Trail. She keeps us up-to-date with his progress, and in the comments one friend mentioned a book written by a man who hiked the AT after losing his wife. I immediately checked our library and secured a copy of Paul Stutzman's Hiking Through: One Man's Journey to Peace and Freedom on the Appalachian Trail.

It must be hard to write a memoir of the trail experience because although each day brings new adventure for the hiker, a reader requires constant escapades to maintain their attention. I worried the day-to-day monotony of hiking would flag my interest. However, Stutzman did a decent job of providing stories and details that kept me turning pages. I appreciated his reflective writing. I marveled at the joy of encountering "trail magic," small gifts and sustenance provided by complete strangers to hikers along the trail. It made me wish I lived close to such a thoroughfare and could pop in unannounced and make someone's day with a hot cup of coffee or a small candy bar for warmth and energy.

I know of a remarkable 17-year-old who has only months to live due to an unceasing battle with cancer. She's fully aware that her journey is ending (for an outstanding Riley Children's Hospital blog article/video about her own FUNeral that she planned to celebrate her life and say good-bye intentionally click here). I wrestle with what to say. For one thing, she's merely an acquaintance. For another, I don't want my words to sound trite or, worse, wounding. But I thought one passage in this book spoke particularly to this young girl's dilemma:

"Many folks remain stuck in grief because they can't comprehend why God would take their loved ones. We get angry with God and question why He would subject us to such terrible loss. But if it were up to us ... we would never choose it. We don't want to die and we don't want our loved ones to die... Each of us lives in a small slice of measured time, inserted here between eternity past and a never-ending life hereafter. From the moment of your birth, death becomes inevitable. Your little slice of time is so fleeting. Whether you live on this planet ten years or eighty is insignificant to God. What is significant is your choice of paths that will lead you to the end of your time here...

"We question, Why, God, why? Each ... must answer one question ... Is God in control or not? If you believe He is in control, then He knows the whys and the whens and the wheres of your loss."

Basically, through his journey, Stutzman came to accept the loss of his wife and to bask in the love of his heavenly Father. In his book, he urges readers to make the most of the time they have and to decide for themselves whether they will trust God is in control. While we may never understand the purposes in the brevity of some lives, I agree with Stutzman. God has a purpose, a plan, and even a provision for those left behind; He is sufficient and He is sovereign.

While I may never feel an urge to hike across the country several thousand miles, I can appreciate what he went through and how much he gained from the experience. I also noted at the back that Stutzman has a follow-up book that chronicles a further adventure biking coast-to-coast across America. It is comforting to know that through books I can hitch a ride for someone else's grand adventure.

Book Review: In Conclusion, Don't Worry About It

I only cracked the cover of this book, In Conclusion, Don't Worry About It, out of love for Lorelai Gilmore. Lauren Graham, the actress who plays Lorelai on the famous Gilmore Girls series is the author of a novel (which I've not read), a memoir (which I listened to), and now a graduation speech stretched out into a small motivational book. As commencement speeches go, it was fair. Nothing as inspirational as Admiral William McRaven's "Make Your Bed" speech, nor as entertaining as Will Ferrell, Jim Carey, or Conan O'Brien (Graham even mentions her inability to match Will Ferrell's commencement speech). But, it's such a small investment, at 45 space-filled pages. Indeed, I nearly read the whole thing in one sitting while waiting for my crippled son to come out of school on his crutches a tad bit early to miss the post-school rush. So, if you love all things even peripherally related to Gilmore Girls, as I do, you might just squeeze in a moment to receive Lauren Graham's wisdom on life and achieving your goals.

A Tithe of My Talents

Photo by Gregor Moser on Unsplash

Today is November 1st. Every year, since 2009, I have started a new novel/work at the outset of November with the Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) challenge (a challenge to write 50,000 words of a novel within the space of November's 30 days). Throughout the past three weeks of my writing sabbatical, an internal argument raged over this year's participation. I'm fatigued and broken, not in a position to begin a new novel. The novels I've written languish in files, unworthy of agent/editor attention. Thanks to my Write-to-Publish critiques, my writing mojo has vanished, replaced by insecurity over my ability to pull off a well-written novel. The problems seem myriad: inconsistent point-of-view usage (head-hopping), insufficient world-building, passive voice construction, weak characters the reader cannot get behind, too much back story (information dumps), too much telling instead of showing, and secondary characters overshadowing the heroine. That's a lot to swallow, a tremendous amount to overcome. I feel paralyzed just trying to approach these weaknesses in my writing.

Yet, deep within, I cannot believe my writing efforts are hopeless. I know that God has given me some talent (even if insufficient at this point). I'm also convinced He intends me to use the talent He has given. So, in thinking about this significant day, I made an alternate decision. I will use this month to tithe on my talent, giving every word written in November back to Him. I will focus my efforts on words devoted to His glory.

Christians often emphasize the imperative to tithe on the monies that God puts at our disposal. I have no personal money. I make no income (perhaps that is why I fight those feelings of uselessness). But I desire to write and give my words back to Him. With the little drummer boy, I offer my humble rat-a-tat-tat. Like the young boy in the crowd listening to Jesus, I give up my meager loaves and fishes for His use.

Even though my novels build on a Christian framework, I have no fresh ideas for stories to glorify God. Perhaps, as my husband has suggested, I am supposed to focus on non-fiction words dedicated for His interest. Even as I enter this set-apart month, I don't know fully what that looks like, but I'm determined to live out my "nothing wasted" mantra and committed to tithing this month's words to His purposes.

If you are a Christian writer, how do you tithe on your talents? What does that look like for you? How do you give a tenth of your talents and efforts to God's glory? I guess if Christian practice suggests a tenth, one month doesn't even suffice. If I'm eager to devote a tenth, I should give the whole month of November and one week of December. Everything I have comes from God. I'm ready to give Him the "first fruits" of my labors. I'm ready to use my words solely for His glory and to win others to His kingdom.

Book Review: Light on Snow

I haven't touched an Anita Shreve book in over a dozen years. I remember reading The Pilot's Wife back when Bryce was small. Perhaps the buzz generated by Oprah caused me to pick up the book. While I don't remember my opinion, I know that I purchased a few Shreve paperbacks in the few years before our move to Indiana. Obviously I enjoyed it enough to invest in another read by Shreve (although I read none of those paperbacks despite their continued presence on my bookshelves downstairs).

In Light on Snow, Shreve snags the reader into the story when eleven-year-old Nicky and her father discover an abandoned infant in the snow on their isolated property. Nicky narrates the memories of this shocking turn of events that upended their lives. Nicky's father is still smarting from the wound of an accident that claimed the lives of his wife and youngest daughter, Clara. He has retreated from society but cannot continue this safety when the mother of the abandoned infant shows up to thank him for rescuing her daughter. Nicky, too, experiences an ache for her absent mother and baby sister. Will the renegade mother fill that void?

The book explores grief with a depth of tenderness and insight. It captures the response to life and death in the eyes of an adolescent girl. Shreve certainly has a storyteller's skill. She weaves the tale with flashbacks to flesh out a full understanding of the difficulties each character must face. I relished the audio experience because it held my attention and I eagerly anticipated the few moments I've been able to snag for my treadmill exercise.

Book Review: All the Breaking Waves

The cover promised "a gripping tale of long-buried secrets, the strength of forgiveness, and the healing power of returning home for good." Kerry Londsdale's novel, All the Breaking Waves, sounded like a redemption story. I'm a sucker for a good dose of redemption. Alas, I didn't end the story convinced it kept the promises.

Molly Brennan is an art history professor with an eight-year-old daughter who suffers from night terrors. These aren't your run-of-the-mill nightmares. No, Cassie can see into the future and each vision promises additional information about what is coming. I probably wouldn't have balked at that if the crux of the story hadn't centered on Cassie's premonition of her mother's death. This horrendous idea drives the protagonist to return to the home she fled and to confront a past mistake.

I continued reading because I wanted to see if they could counteract the vision by taking necessary steps. Still, throughout much of the book, I was hesitant to suspend my disbelief. If you thought you might die by drowning, you would get as far away from water as possible, yet Molly returns to her beach-front home. Moreover, how could a mother encourage further nightmares on her daughter simply so she can gain more information about the premonition? These details left me scratching my head in wonder. Indeed, they kept me from developing an interest in the main character. While the daughter was endearing, the mother never appealed.

Although I ended the book with a feeling of dissatisfaction, I still would be open to attempting this author's debut novel, Everything We Keep. Her debut garnered thousands of five star Amazon reviews. It sounds like a romantic suspense novel in a similar vein to Ghosted. One reviewer even tweeted the author to exclaim that every time she thought she knew what was going on, it pulled the rug out from under her. With all the buzz surrounding that first novel, I'd be willing to give it a go.

Another Wedding Witnessed

For many years, we hosted my extensive side of the family for an annual Christmas gathering. With 30 family members, it was often a daunting prospect (given that hospitality is not my spiritual gift - my home is not a showcase home and my cooking skills leave much to be desired). While I enjoyed those festivities, we needed some time off, so we have curtailed our invitations. Thankfully, my oldest brother, David, filled the need for family contact because his three children, Kirsten, Eric, and Kari, were all slated for imminent marriage. We attended Kirsten's wedding to Keith in 2016, Kari's wedding to Clayton in 2017, and finally, Eric's wedding to Tabatha in early October of 2018.

I say "finally" because Eric and Tabatha dated for six years. As a children's librarian and a middle school teacher, they are a perfect match. At every Christmas gathering, a murmur arose questioning whether Eric had popped the question yet. I don't know if he was clinging to a plan or just needed a lengthier courtship, but when he finally proposed, he did it in style. Miriam, David's wife, is Scottish and they decided to take a family trip together to Scotland this summer.

While there, Eric and Tabatha hiked to the top of a mountain where he asked her to marry him. How perfect! How romantic!

(Photo by Tabatha)

We RSVPed for the four of us, all the while wondering whether Bryce would be able to get off work to accompany us. In the end, all plans shifted. Sean's team went undefeated and they scheduled the championship game on the same day as the wedding. Moreover, Trevor, with his broken leg, didn't relish the idea of attending a wedding on crutches (although I should say, I noticed a teenager among the guests who was not only on crutches, but also on two inch heels - her doctor would have shuddered, no doubt). Suddenly, it looked like I was on my own for a trip to a wedding in the Chicago suburbs. Thankfully, Bryce and his girlfriend, Elizabeth, decided to join me and even offered to do a majority of the driving (I only had to get to Purdue and back). I was grateful for a chance to spend time with Bryce and Elizabeth and for an opportunity to gather with my family members once again.

They had the same adorable flower girl from Kirsten's wedding:

(Photo by Evie Polsley)

The wedding party itself was huge, given the number of bridesmaids and groomsmen (16):

(Photo by Sam Arias)

What a joy to watch the bride enter and these two lives merge into one unit with a host of prayerful witnesses:

(Photo by Adrienne Morgan)

Great family photo, showing off Kirsten's delightful baby bump! Then it was on to the reception (they had intended an outdoor reception, but due to the possibility of rain, it was moved indoors):

We had a wonderful time around the table, reminiscing about dreadful college roommate experiences, hilarious teenaged hijinks (the time David attempted to jump over our parent's small vehicle and ended up landing on and cracking the windshield), and memories made in that wedding location back when my siblings and I were young (and still had hair - ha). Apologies for my horrible photo of my table-mates:

(Sibling photo by Bryce - sadly missing my sister, Dawn, because her employers wouldn't release her from a last minute meeting despite her airline ticket and hotel reservation in hand - we also missed my parents who were unable to make the trip north from Florida due to my mother's dementia.)

As we prepared to leave, Miriam suggested it might be my turn next to host a wedding and gather the family together. However, my older brother, Mark, has six kids (both older and younger than my own), so I'm thinking he might be next in line. Regardless of who pops a question next, I relish the idea of more opportunities to gather and wish these youngsters well as they set off to establish lives of their own. What a privilege to witness the precious initial moments of a covenant relationship! What joy to gather with family spread far and wide (IL, KY, TN, and WI)!

Book Review: The Wildling Sisters

Last year, Eve Chase swept me away with her novel, Black Rabbit Hall. I loved the atmosphere, the mystery, the characters, and the writing. While I didn't enjoy this one quite as much, it was a riveting read. Very similar in tone and setting, The Wildling Sisters charts stories from two different times (a modern woman's life intersects with the past lives in a house she inhabits). The stories are set in the English countryside in an old manor home. This particular setting always sucks me in and I'm happy to allow my imagination to take up residence alongside the characters.

In 1959, fifteen-year-old Margo Wilde spends her summer at Applecote Manor together with her three sisters. They are apprehensive because they haven't visited the Manor, or their aunt and uncle, in five years, not since their cousin Audrey disappeared. Fifty years later, Jessie and her widowed husband Will purchase Applecote Manor in an attempt to solidify their new family. Jessie hopes to flee the tenacious grip of Will's dead wife and finally bond fully with his recalcitrant teenage daughter, Bella. But Bella is fixated on the stories swirling about the house's mysterious past and determined not to let Jessie or her toddler step-sister Romy into her heart.

Eve Chase did a marvelous job of introducing new enticing details with each progressive chapter. The book opens with a bang as the Wildling sisters drag away a dead body. Whose body? Why and how did he die? In the second chapter, we meet Jessie and a host of new questions. Why was Bella expelled from her school? Will the move to the countryside strengthen their family bonds or sever them further? With expert pacing, the reader happily swings from past to present as the separate stories unfold until they converge in the telling reveal.

I read the entire second half of the novel while waiting in the car as Trevor attended his football team's away game. Two hours slipped away. This was a splendid tale of two vastly different bonds: those between close siblings and those between blended family members. It bears hints of Daphne Du Maurier's Rebecca blended with Louisa May Alcott's Little Women. Kate Morton fans will find a comfortable fit in an Eve Chase novel. Still, I believe Chase's debut, Black Rabbit Hall, was a notch better.

A Grand Adventure - IRT's Holmes and Watson

Photo by Elijah O'Donnell on Unsplash

What a grand adventure I experienced this past Sunday when I attended the IRT's magnificent performance of Jeffrey Hatcher's play, Holmes and Watson. I knew to expect something brilliant because I enjoyed the IRT's production of Hatcher's version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde back in 2012. Several of the actors from Jekyll and Hyde were back again for this Arthur Conan Doyle spin-off. Moreover, I had the privilege of attending with a good friend and playwright herself, Stacy Post (and also ran into a book club member). We caught the tail-end of the pre-performance talk and had an excellent discussion while waiting for the play to commence, as Stacy explained more about the actors (members of the Actor's Equity Association, thus a restriction on photography).

The set, designed by Robert Mark Morgan (scenic designer) and Michael Klaers (lighting designer), was stunning. With moveable side staircases and hallways, the set draws your attention to a center stage with a background of a formidable bar structure in the shape of an eye (where we view most of the flashbacks). It evokes the barren feel of an insane asylum set on an island in Scotland. Plus, the skillful use of lighting combined with sound effects brings out the feel of the Reichenbach Falls (the place where Holmes supposedly met his demise).

In the words of Morgan (found in the playbill), "The location... is a designer's dream, simply because of the limitless possibilities it presents... a fortress that became a lighthouse and then became an insane asylum.... We've attempted to approach the set and staging in layers with the knowledge that, like the Holmes story itself, it will reveal itself to you as the play goes on." That is what I most loved about the set design: the way it moved and shifted to reveal different aspects of the story bit by bit.

The tale is simple, yet provides an element of mystery and a complete turnaround of understanding by the end. The ground we rest upon is always shifting. When Dr. Watson is called to the isolated asylum to inspect three inmates all claiming to be the deceased Sherlock Holmes, he doesn't know what to expect. As he confers with each inmate, the audience shares his confusion - which is the real Sherlock Holmes? Is it inmate #1 - who, from the very first moments, sounds much like the deductive clue-splicer? Is it inmate #2 - a ragamuffin of a man, bound in a straight-jacket for the safety of himself and others? Or is it the blind, deaf, and mute inmate whose catatonic state belies incredible trauma? And what are the authorities prepared to do once Watson identifies the real Sherlock?

I have to admit, I practically jumped out of my skin with every artificial gunshot (even when I saw the pointed weapon and knew the shots were immanent). I marveled at the expert portrayal of the characters that kept me guessing clear to the end. I loved the matron's exaggerated pointed glares at Watson. The play was laced with humor throughout. Plus, I did not suspect the turn of events until the moment they played out. Indeed, the clues burned away even as you viewed them!

Days are limited, with performances running through October 21st. If you live in the Indy area and haven't secured tickets, it is a show well-worth the price of admission. As we left the theatre, Stacy wished aloud that she had the time and opportunity to see it again. Much like my reaction to my recent read of Ghosted, it begs to be experienced again with the full realm of knowledge at your disposal from the outset. If you still need convincing, take a moment to view this trailer, certain to whet your appetite for the thrilling experience of this play:

Book Review: Walk Two Moons - Highly Recommend

How did I miss this Newbery book for so long? Sharon Creech's Walk Two Moons won the Newbery Medal in 1995, before any of my sons were even born. I should have discovered this gem by now! Although the book holds universal appeal, I wish I had a young tween girl in my life so we could read and experience it together. Alas, my boys no longer want me to read aloud to them - what a sad, sad day.

The book garnered many notes of praise:

"This story sings." - Booklist

"A richly layered novel about real and metaphorical journeys." - School Library Journal

"Packed with humor and affection... an odyssey of unexpected twists and surprising conclusions." - Newbery Award Selection Committee

I cannot describe this marvelous book any better than the cover copy does:

In her own singularly beautiful style, Newbery Medal winner Sharon Creech intricately weaves together two tales, one funny, one bittersweet, to create a heartwarming, compelling, and utterly moving story of love, loss, and the complexity of human emotion.

Thirteen-year-old Salamanca Tree Hiddle, proud of her country roots and the "Indian-ness in her blood," travels from Ohio to Idaho with her eccentric grandparents. Along the way, she tells them of the story of Phoebe Winterbottom, who received mysterious messages, who met a "potential lunatic," and whose mother disappeared.

As Sal entertains her grandparents with Phoebe's outrageous story, her own story begins to unfold—the story of a thirteen-year-old girl whose only wish is to be reunited with her missing mother.

In my own words, I can only say that the writing absolutely sings and the story evokes such strong emotion that it brought me to tears at the end. What a powerfully moving book! What a masterpiece of great storytelling! I urge you, if you haven't encountered this touching tale, to give it a chance to warm and open your heart as it did mine.

The Joy of Victory

When we first moved to this rural location in Indiana, we tried to integrate our oldest son into his peer group by placing him on a league basketball team. What a tremendous mistake! Indiana takes its basketball very seriously. They wean kids from bottles to basketballs. Bryce had never played a day of basketball in his young life. The other kids resented his presence on their team. They rarely passed the ball his direction, and he spent a fair amount of time riding the bench. Instead of boosting his self-esteem, it derailed a bit.

Several years ago, Trevor begged and begged to join the youth football league. The outset cost of $200 gave me pause. What if we invested in the experience and the boy returned from the first practices whining about how hard it was? Would it be a similar fiasco to the basketball attempt? Therefore, I put him off and put him off, promising that he could play when offered at the middle school at a more reasonable cost. He joined the team in 7th grade and by the start of his 8th grade season improved enough that the coach planned to play him on both offense and defense. Even though he contemplated quitting early on because the conditioning was hard, he persevered and ended up enjoying it. Sadly, his broken leg cut his opportunities short this year.

Last year, Sean developed a real enthusiasm for the sport because the boys on the league teams played football with him during every recess at school. Here we were again, facing the league involvement dilemma. This time, I relented. We paid the fees, discovering later it was only the tip of the iceberg as we also had to contribute for several fundraising activities and coach recognition gifts. As expected, after the first practices, Sean talked about quitting. The conditioning was brutal. He complained about the running and other exercises he perceived as pointless. Despite his resistance, we insisted that he persist (especially after spending so much)!

(Sean is at the right end of the top row. - team and individual photos by Rebecca Saylor)

(He proudly selected his big brother's number, 48!)

His tune changed over time. He discovered the secret - he enjoyed winning. Moreover, he learned that to get to the win, you must put in the practice. At the beginning, I would say he wasn't aggressive enough. In the tackle position, he sometimes let opposing players through the line. But, the more he practiced, the more he improved. Plus, he was fortunate to be playing with other boys who had years of experience. Their team was invincible. They ended the season last Saturday UNDEFEATED and took the championship trophy and individual rings home. It thrilled Sean to participate on the team and to experience the joy of victory.

Sometimes relentless practice (even on seemingly pointless drills) pays off and you encounter the thrill of winning! Now that the football season is over, I'm breathing a big sigh of relief. Because of Trevor's broken leg, I put in loads of time and mileage in the ten minute back-and-forth trips to the middle school four to six times a day. While I'm glad Sean reaped many benefits from his participation in the sport, I'm encountering my own joy - the thrill of the season's end.