Book Review: Hearts in Circulation

Sarah Monzon is a new-to-me author. But, oh this book cover sucks you in. I love the idea of a bookmobile for individuals who cannot get to a library. I would love that job! I enjoyed Hearts in Circulation so much, I'll seek out the other two in this Checking Out Love series (somehow I missed the first in the series, and the final book is due out soon).

Librarian Hayley Holt is eager to serve her community. She agrees to drive the newly donated bookmobile, even though it looks like a tin can on wheels. Hayley considers it the least she can do in her daily efforts to live up to the liver transplant she received in her youth. When a rockslide traps Hayley in a back woods hollow, a surly, uncommunicative mechanic offers to repair the vehicle. Can Levi Redding endure her constant chatter and larger-than-life presence in his environs?

What a delightful and bookish forced proximity rom-com! What's more, I was duly impressed with the natural and insightful faith elements that appear as the story concludes. Monzon introduces a character whose personal struggles uniquely flesh out arguments for the faith that I have been sharing with friends and family. Her story illustrates the truth that we can never earn the free gift of salvation God offers through Christ's atonement. I loved the thoughts expressed in the Hayley-Levi confrontation scene, especially the advice, "Don't cheapen the gift!" That is what people do when they insist they must maintain, through obedient faith, the salvation Christ has secured for them. 

I enjoyed the book for more than this firm salvation security argument. The characters were endearing and the plot held me riveted. I loved the exchange of letters, in spite of the forced proximity. I loved the scavenger hunt for clues through books. What fun! I recommend this light-hearted and meaningful romance (a Carol Award finalist for the 2026 romance category). 

Book Review: The Correspondent

I have been a correspondent. In my early days, I had a few best friends with whom I exchanged lengthy letters. In my teen years, I had a friend who had gone off to college (in Indianapolis, at Butler University, of all places). That friend faithfully responded to my many letters. In my college years, I continued that correspondence and also wrote to family members. Post-college, I had a deepening correspondence with a fellow mission-team member. Then came letters back and forth between people I met in my travels. After my oldest son was born, I sought out a foreign pen-pal.  Yes, I have always loved composing and receiving letters!

This book, The Correspondent, by Virginia Evans, articulates exactly how I have felt. It is easier for me to process things and to express myself with the written word. Don't box me into a corner with a verbal fight! Allow me to defend myself and put forth my views in a letter. This is a beautiful book about a character who seeks to deal with life's losses through her correspondence with others. Sybil van Antwerp writes letters to her brother, her best friend, favored authors, and young people she hopes to mentor. She urges a college dean to allow her to audit courses. To some, she writes about her adoption and the feelings it engenders. To others, she writes her terror at impending blindness. Then there are the letters, left unsent, to an individual named Colt. When she starts receiving anonymous letters with ill-intent, she must face her past and all its tragedies and triumphs. As readers, we get to follow this process through the letters she writes and receives.

I love epistolary novels, so when I saw the popular buzz, I knew I wanted to read this book. And when I say buzz, I mean buzz. The book is currently ranked #3 on Amazon. It has won many accolades and awards. My husband came into the room and began talking to me as I was nearing the conclusion. I could not tear my eyes away. Then, the tears threatened and spilled over. Of course, he wondered what made me cry, but he is not a lover of fiction. I tried to explain the great sorrow, but he had not been drawn into it as I had through countless pages. I feel sorry for him. What joy it is to slowly unravel a tale leading to empathy and compassion for a character drawn from the author's imagination. If you read this book, be sure to take time for the author's acknowledgements at the end. I even looked up the scripture reference for James 1:17. Although this is not a Christian book, that verse resonates after reading this story. 

📒 Content Caution

2025 Recap

My writing friend, Amy Weinland Daughters, posted this hilarious spoof on the goals we set and the ones we actually achieve. I acknowledge my recap post will be somewhat like this. It won't really interest my readers (no offense if you skip it). I'm primarily writing it for personal reflection on my year's goals. 

Hoping to be intentional in 2025, I started a progress file where I tracked various things daily. I kept stats on my exercise, purging, letter-writing, fasting, and (towards the end) writing for publication. Although this was very helpful in many ways, I still failed to be as productive as I would have liked. You can set the goal. You can track the progress. But, you still have to put in the work to have something to write down. Ha! Sadly, I'm not the most disciplined person.

Exercise: I do believe tracking helps me stay committed to exercise. I'm not a huge walker. Many people put in 10,000 steps a day. I'm far too sendentary, but don't see that changing any time soon. Still, I try to get my treadmill time (or outdoor walks) in every morning. I exercised on 90% of the days (327/365) this year. My mileage declined when I got a new and more narrow treadmill. It declined further after I fell on that treadmill. Still, I walked over 400 miles and averaged 1.25 miles. As I threw out my 2024-2025 planner, I noted that in 2024 I consistently walked 295 out of 366 days (81% of days) for 472-1/3 miles (ave. 1.6 miles). Of course, that was when I was trying to lose weight for my son's wedding.

Purging: I'm a hoarder. I've always admitted this freely. However, I really had hoped to be more successful in my purging efforts. There are so many negative emotions associated with purging. While I enjoyed going through the minutia of past letters and school files, the actual process of getting rid of many items was draining. My year-end total was 102-2/3 hours. I only worked on purging for 51% [186/365] days. On those days, I averaged 33 minutes/day. It is better than nothing, but still feels like diddly-squat. Now that my husband has reduced the estimated time we have left living in this home, I'm wishing I had been far more diligent. May was a total wash, as was December. February was my most productive month (24 hours of purging in 25/28 days).

Fasting: My goal was to fast every Monday in 2025. I only missed the Monday of the spring break trip and the Monday of our 35th anniversary, but I made up for those dates by fasting on another day in those weeks. At the beginning, I started slowly with partial days (fasting until 2 p.m., then 4 p.m., then 6 p.m., then 8 p.m.). But in February, I aimed for mostly full days. By the end of the year, I had fasted 54 days (21 partial days and 33 full days). 

I am not well-suited for fasting. It was difficult in the usual ways, but was also difficult emotionally. It seemed like the full day fasts left me overwhelmed with despair rather than trust. As I poured out my groanings over difficult situations in our family/friends' lives, the focus on the darkness of our tunnel drowned out the consolation of the light God offers. I think, in my clinical depression, I struggle with staying positive and observing the light more than the darkness. I'm a glass half-empty kinda gal. 

Struggles with our prodigal, family tensions, the loss of my mother and subsequent new love my father is fixated on, health questions, the state of our world... it gets to be too much. I think I would have done far better if I had spent my fasting time in singing scriptural promises rather than outlining the various weights and burdens we carry. If I had it to do over again (and I'm not planning on this rigorous fasting in 2026), I would have taken more of the approach I used with my 2023 prayer project. I would incorporate scripture, pray for requests but also praise for answers, and spend more time focused on God's enduring attributes than on the encompassing obstacles before us.  

Writing: I'm not sure I kept accurate records for correspondence. I mostly charted letters sent by snail mail or from my personal email. By not recording letters sent from my author email, I know these stats are incomplete. In all, I mailed 21 letters or packages (sometimes with my book), and sent 51 personal emails.

The biggest victory was resuming writing projects after a stroke of luck with my first goal in September of just putting in 20 minutes finding markets. I wrote and submitted 2 pieces in September (1 of those was published in a digital magazine). I spent 12 hours writing on 13/30 days in that month. In October, I worked on writing research for 100 minutes. I worked on 2 separate projects on 15/31 days for a total of 11.5 hours (8786 words). In November, I spent an hour on writing research. I participated in the Rabbit Room's Poem-a-Day challenge, completing 20 poems from the 30 prompts. Plus, I started a non-fiction book project, working on 22/30 days for a total of 23-1/3 hours (24,867 words). This was nowhere close to the 50 thousand-plus words of Novembers past, but still an accomplishment. Then, as soon as Thanksgiving hit, I petered out to 1 writing day and 1 day reviewing the non-fiction work to date.

I set out to fast and pray, and to purge hoarded belongings. I suppose I met those goals, but wish I had done far better. If only I had known, at the outset of the year, that my husband hopes to move by fall of 2026. Yikes!

For the coming year, I'm not setting hard and fast goals (quantitative goals). At the end of 2025, I read an outstanding essay on Substack by Suleika Jaouad, called "Against Resolutions." The author argues that rituals are more effective than resolutions. "Where resolutions chase outcomes, rituals attend to process." Resolutions lead to all-or-nothing thinking. Michael Bierut said it is like walking a tightrope, where peril increases with each step, until you become convinced you'll never make it across. 

The author ends with this observation, "That's what ritual gives me now. Not a guarantee, not an outcome, not a transformation on a deadline, but a means of staying in motion without hardening, to keep my balance without gripping so tightly... no grand reinvention here--only the patient work of showing up, again and again, nudging myself millimeter by millimeter toward the person I'm becoming."

While I think I've already been focused on ritual, this year I am leaning into 3 words (not an annual word, but a word progression):

WATCH 🠊 WITNESS 🠊 SPREAD

WATCH, as in the sense of expectant anticipation. I want to watch for the return of Christ. I want to watch for God's intervention in our lives (and especially in the life of my prodigal son).

"The end of all things is at hand; be ye therefore sober, and watch unto prayer." - 1 Peter 4:7

"Therefore let us not sleep, as others; but let us watch and be sober." - 1 Thessalonians 5:6

"Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving." - Colossians 4:2

"Watch ye therefore, and pray always, that ye may be accounted worthy to escape all these things that shall come to pass, and to stand before the Son of man." - Luke 21:36

WITNESS, as in what you see when you watch. I want to witness God's moving and transforming power.

"Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will shew to you today." - Exodus 14:13

WITNESS, as in give a testimony of the gospel's power transforming my life. I want to seize more opportunities (whatever He gives) to share my faith.

"Shew how great things God hath done unto thee." - Luke 8:39

"And with great power gave the apostles witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus: and great grace was upon them all." - Acts 4:33

"And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death." - Revelation 12:11

SPREAD, as in disseminate God's Word into the world. I started this year's devotions adding a book by Cheryl Ford, called Triumphs of the Heart: The Pursuit of Joyful Living. In one of the first sections, she considers the watchful heart of Anna in the Bible. From this chapter, I found my verse for 2026:

"But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him." - 2 Corinthians 2:14

Midmonth Mention: Four Unique Literary Stories

1) I was mesmerized by the lilt in Scottish poet Len Pennie's voice as she read her poem, "The Vow." You can watch it here on You Tube (a short 2 minute recitation). I plan to recommend it to my nephew, Jack, who is getting married. How amazing, she's offering it for free! I'd love to purchase her book of poems, just on the basis of this one poem.

2) I'm hoping others are fascinated to learn what people read (hence, my blog). What a great story to learn about Dan Pelzer, who took the time to record every book he read. He died on July 1, 2025, and his family made public his 109 page list, which includes over 3500 books. Though I haven't taken time to do more than skim the website yet, it sounds like fascinating reading.

3) This next story made me take note because it takes place in Lake Elmo, Minnesota, where my cousin, Karin, grew up. A book, 47 years overdue, was returned to the Lake Elmo Library along with an apology and $200 to offset what fines may have accrued. Amazing!

4) I recently watched a memorial service for the step-father of my CBLI friend, Laura. Although I never knew him, it was a great blessing to get to know him through the father-to-daughter letters shared at the service. He was a delightful correspondent! Thus, when I came across "The Dad Letter Project," I thought I'd mention it here. You can view a brief video about the project here. Kind-hearted dads volunteer to write letters to people who could use encouragement. I love ideas like this. It makes me think, why didn't I think of this?

Book Review: Becoming Mrs. Lewis

Once again, the titles of my current reading seem to parallel. After meeting Patti Callahan Henry at her author talk in Franklin, Indiana, I was eager to pick up this historical fiction based on the life of Joy Davidman, C. S. Lewis' wife. When I worked at the Marion E. Wade Collection at Wheaton College, my time was focused on transcribing the letters of C. S. Lewis. I didn't really stop to think about Joy Davidman. Even when I met her son, Douglas Gresham (researching his book, Lenten Lands), I didn't consider Joy. Then Dr. Lyle Dorsett, my supervisor, wrote his book, And God Came In. I received this book, with Lyle's signature, as a Christmas gift in 1984.

I had such a great time briefly discussing Patti's research at the Wade (now called the Wade Center). How fun to think she may have opened a binder and read words I transcribed! Or perhaps she actually saw my own handwritten scrawl. There were times I could not decipher C. S. Lewis's words. Both he and his brother, Warnie, were born with a congenital defect of a missing joint in their thumb. I would type up a passage and leave a blank space where I couldn't decipher the words. Then later, sometimes with the help of other eyes, I would go back in and print the missing words. It was my favorite job ever, since I often would happen upon great insights in the correspondence I transcribed.

This book held a similar message to the one I gleaned from Ellen Vaughn's biography of Elizabeth Elliot. I think many people hear the name C. S. Lewis and imagine a saint on a pedestal. Neither Elizabeth nor "Jack" (as he was known) were saints. They were ordinary individuals with faults and quirks and a rare gift for sharing insights through their writing. In Becoming Mrs. Lewis, we learn how he acquired his nickname. We learn how and why he held Joy Davidman at a distance, despite a growing love building between them. 

Joy, too, held a brilliance of writing ability. Jack described her work as "flaming." He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She started as a friend, someone with whom he could say, "What, you too?" I loved the descriptions of their playful, literary banter. Joy was an amazing woman. She knew several languages, had a photographic memory, could discourse on a variety of subjects, and was quite frank. Yet, as with Jack, she was not perfect. The book highlights how her passion for writing led to great difficulty settling into a "housewife" role. She suffered because of her poor choice in marrying another woman's husband, who turned out to be an alcoholic with a violent temper.

As a reader, you can see the train heading for a derailment. Why did Joy leave her wayward husband with her attractive, driven cousin to care for her sons while she took a trip to England for her health? Given her husband's abuse (and especially his demeaning comments against her writing), is it any wonder that she was drawn to a man like C. S. Lewis? And, given Lewis' background, it is easier to understand why he took so long to assert his love for Joy. This aspect gives the book tremendous pull, as the reader waits, with bated breath, for the two to come together.

I think my favorite endorsement for Patti's book is this blurb by the New York Journal of Books: "Patti Callahan took a character on the periphery, one who has historically taken a back seat to her male counterpart, and given her a fierce, passionate voice. For those fans of Lewis curious about the woman who inspired A Grief Observed, this book offers a convincing, fascinating glimpse into the private lives of two very remarkable individuals." Joy had a fierce, passionate voice in a time and era when women's voices went unheard. Her vehement determination to protect her sons was admirable. I'm grateful to Lewis for shepherding them after Joy's death. I'm also glad to have met Douglas while working at the Wade Collection. How sad to hear from Patti that Douglas is now dealing with dementia! How sad to have to tell her that Lyle (a beloved father figure for me) is also struggling with dementia. God carries us each through trials and triumphs. He uses the good and the bad in our lives for His glory. Praise God! 

February 2025 Purging Progress

In order to really stick to any resolution, it helps to be intentional and accountable for progress. When I undertook my 2023 Facebook Prayer Project, I held to particular structure and documentation. This was a tremendous help in keeping me going. This year, my documentation is meant to keep me plugging away at my two-part goals of fasting and purging. Thus, I try to keep a daily tab on these efforts. Plus, purging is hard for me. When I find something my heart longs to keep, I can make note of it and move on with more ease.

I struggled with the record-keeping, however. At first, I was writing down what was eliminated. This was simple when I was dealing with Christmas items, shoes, books, magazines, and even writing utensils. Those were easily calculated. However, then I began sorting through old teaching files and correspondence. Tossing piles of papers is a bit harder to quantify. In looking back over my daily notes, I purged 537 items. Since some of these were merely pencils or pens, I kept track of bags filled for Goodwill (5). Speaking of pencils, how is this even possible???

I decided to offer the better school supplies (certainly not this pencil nub), teaching materials, and games to my local elementary school (once I've cleared the whole section of the basement that I am tackling). Thus, I have two bags heading there (if they respond with interest). By January 22nd, I began tracking how much time I spent in purging activities. Of those 37 days, I worked 30 hours (approximately 3/4 hour a day). Mainly, I am keeping track of things in order to keep up the momentum and to be able to prove to my husband that I CAN, indeed, tackle my clutter.

What amazes me is how much fun I'm having. I have always dreaded tackling my clutter. But, I'm knee-deep in things of the past and loving every minute of it. There is still a tendency to keep more than I should (how do I get rid of all the correspondence from my beloved Mitchell family in England?), but I can take photos of what I don't keep. Or I can write of them here.

Some funnies I found but wanted to toss:

hipatitus = being perpetually cool

intaxication = the feeling of elation one gets when receiving a tax refund, lasting until you realize the money was yours to begin with

bozone = the layer around some people which inhibits wisdom from penetrating

- Energizer Bunny arrested - charged with battery

- A pessimist's blood type is always B-negative

- Shotgun wedding - a case of wife or death

- I used to work in a blanket factory, but it folded

- Marriage is the mourning after the knot before

- A hangover is the wrath of grapes

- Banning the bra was a big flop

- Sea captains don't like crew cuts

When I discovered my sons' 4th grade journals, I actually sent a thank you note to their teacher (still teaching at their elementary school). It was so funny to read their entries. In one, Sean was bemoaning the fact that his older brother would not be returning home for the summer because he was going to live in an apartment near an internship. He wrote, "They grow up so fast." Ha!

Next, I tackled the files from my minimal years of teaching. My experiences with teaching were not entirely pleasant. In my first year, I was the sole English teacher for a small rural Illinois high school. I had 6 preps: Fresh. Eng., Soph. Eng., Jr. Eng., Sr. Eng., Creative Writing, and Drama. Not only was I stretched to the breaking point, but I had such high expectations and ideals. I felt it was all on me to prepare them for future college expectations. Perhaps I confused the two. In any case, while purging, I found a letter from a mother requesting extra work to help her daughter save an abysmal grade. I shuddered as I read my response, touting the importance of fairness and accountability. I was mortified! I actually sought this mother's old email (she had worked at the local university) and sent her a much-belated apology letter (it is out in the ether, even if she never receives it). Now that I have longed for a second chance for a child, I can sympathize. Back then, not so much!

Thankfully, I also found files from my favorite class, summer school speech. What a blast I had with those students. Not only had I softened, but I gave so many hands-on, interactive activities. When I taught non-verbal communication, I brought in a television and showed 5 minutes of "Bernice Bobs Her Hair," with the sound off. Then, I turned the tv around and showed 5 minutes with just the sound, and finally 5 minutes with both visual and audio clues. Each time, I asked the students to make predictions about what was going on. Then, for sheer fun, we watched the whole movie. To teach personal space, I moved all the desks into one clump in the center of the room and required students to sit in their chairs there for 5 minutes. They were so relieved to move back to the original desk arrangement.

I found 2 copies of my college commencement program (seeing all those old names sent me searching on FB). When I found Bryce's baby book, I discovered the newspaper announcement which had his (later) best friend's announcement just above his. I sobbed when I found an unused, now defunct, $20 Borders gift card that had been a parting gift when we moved to Indiana. I actually tossed all but the few written on pages from my own baby book. In happening upon this photo from when I was five, I'm wondering why I didn't get the memo to wear white like everyone else?

Sorting through my college folders brought back great memories. In my Theology of Culture class, I had to keep a current events journal. Isn't this entry a kicker?

I had always remembered my Bible Geography class for the creative way the instructor tested our knowledge. Thus, I was thrilled to find and capture this quiz from his class:

Finally, it was such fun to re-read old correspondence. I found a letter my dad had sent when I was in the Philippines on a mission trip. In it, he explained the events of one evening when he woke at 4 a.m. realizing he had forgotten to have his evening devotions. He was praying and heard a tapping sound outside, coming from the Pizza Hut next door. He watched a burglar enter and called the police. Eleven squad cars surrounded the place and they came begging a hanger, so they could break into the back door. They returned again to ask if he was positive that the burglar was still in there. He assured them he had been watching faithfully. A few days later, he learned that the man had shut himself into the large cooler and passed out. Lucky for the burglar (an ex-employee who had already broken in once before), they found him and saved his life. My dad ended that paragraph with, "No, we haven't gotten a free pizza yet." Ha!

Here's a flyer I found for one of our Salvation Army outreach events, showcasing a photo of my baby brother, Tim, playing an Alto horn:

I had to text Tim a photo of a letter he sent to me with highlights from his vacation when he was around ten. He detailed every state they went through, even including multiple ones "where nothing happened," and every item he purchased. He finally explained that he had saved up $51 from his paper route job and spent all but 13 cents of it. He ended by saying, "Well, I guess I should get to bed. I started at 3 and now it's 10:27." He texted back, "What's going on? This letter took me 7.5 hours to write!! I'm so glad I gave such a detailed account. Even of the states where nothing happened! Hilarious!"

See what I mean? Great fun poring over items hoarded from the past. This is the reason I'm a pack-rat. I cannot bear to part with the detritus that makes me smile. Still, after 2 months purging work, I'm making some progress!

Book Review: Dear Henry, Love Edith

I am writing this review of Dear Henry, Love Edith (Becca Kinzer's debut novel) for the second time, weeks after completing this read. Somehow, I deleted my book review and cannot retrieve it. I will try to give this book its due, but my memory has long since stepped away from this story. My apologies. Here is what I think I wrote:

If asked what my ideal romance would be, it would involve two strangers meeting through letters, developing a correspondence, and finding love. I still have bushels of old letters from friends (pack-rat that I am). While I had a brief taste of this dream, it was not entirely the same. After college, I went on a mission trip to the Philippines. One of the other mission teammates corresponded with me for those ten weeks. We were in similar places. We experienced: a) things we'd never encountered before; b) deep emotional connection to those experiences; c) shared struggles and observations; d) and genuine vulnerability with each other. It was impossible for romantic feelings to remain at bay, although I was determined we would not act on those feelings during the mission trip. For a brief time, afterwards, we connected, but he was not as interested in me as I was in him, and I realize that the intensity of our letters made me think there were connections that were not there. All of that to say, the premise of this book (two strangers meeting through letters and falling in love) seems earmarked for me!

After his niece's pipe bursts, Henry agrees to take on her temporary boarder. He believes she is a little old lady. Edith is visiting the small Illinois town to fill a position in a crisis nursery until arrangements for her mission trip fall into place. She believes she is living in the upstairs portion of an elderly man's house while he recuperates from a fall. He works days and she, nights; thus, they keep failing to meet the other and a correspondence between the two develops. Their assumptions lead them to share more deeply than they otherwise might. (However, don't expect a great deal of intimacy in the letters, because most of the love story plays out apart from the correspondence.)

While the humor sometimes verges on slapstick, this is a fun, delightful book. It would be perfect if you need something lighthearted amid personal pain. The plot draws the reader along with questions like: What will dispel their assumptions? Is love inevitable? Can they find a way to one another, despite divergent paths and past relational difficulties? I would happily dip into books by Becca Kinzer again. You can visit her author website and sign up for her newsletter to receive two short romance stories.

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9/13/24 Note: Dear Henry, Love Edith won a Carol Award for debut novel in the 2024 ACFW's best Christian fiction recognition. Yay, for Becca Kinzer!

Book Review: Letters to Malcolm

The other day, I scoured my library for books on prayer. I'm several months into my 2023 Facebook Prayer Project. Prayer is a discipline, to be sure. And can often feel more like a duty than a delight, as C. S. Lewis writes in this compilation of letters to a friend, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer. We long for it to be something we anticipate with joy, but our humanity often pulls it into the realm of obligation. I acknowledge it is a privilege to pray for my friends. Yet, the actual process of setting aside time - morning, noon, and night - is sometimes challenging.

Lewis also observes that our prayers, while grounded in time, are "eternally in the score of the great symphony." What a beautiful picture of prayer. We take time to express our hopes, dreams, wishes, and struggles to God, who is already aware of all these things, and the process weaves out into a symphony outside of time (because God exists and works outside of time). Our actions, grounded in time, matter for eternity! How cool is that!

Finally, I especially appreciated his discussion of Christ's prayer in Gesthemane. When I first encountered our struggle with a prodigal child, it triggered a deep anguish and despair within me. This didn't surprise me. I battle chronic depression even in the best of times. But what surprised me was the response of other Christians to my anguish. 

Lewis sums it up well: "Some people feel guilty about their anxieties and regard them as a defect of faith. I don't agree at all. They are afflictions, not sins. Like all afflictions, they are, if we can so take them, our share in the Passion of Christ." Others encouraged me to stop "sinning" in unbelief and to take hold of firm faith. Yet, I believe one can ride the dual waves of anxiety and faith without one cancelling out the other. My faith in God's perfect will (for my best and for His glory) never wavers, though my emotional response to my trial may bring angst and affliction. And when someone is in anguish over a trial God has allowed into their life, isn't that a far better time to extend a hand of comfort and solidarity than to express condemnation for perceived sin. An offer of "I'll be praying for you!" means far more than "You can't allow circumstances to determine your faith." Would that we were all kinder to one another when pain enters our lives!

Book Review: Dear Dana

Two things converged to bring this compulsively readable book into my life. Thanks to an Amazon gift card from a friend, I felt free to spend the money on books. Then, to earn more sweepstakes entries, I signed on for Book Bub. This has been a double-edged sword for me. While I love book recommendations, the daily smattering of titles increases my burgeoning wish list and TBR piles. For this book, I saw the title (Dear Dana: That time I went crazy and wrote all 580 of my Facebook friends a handwritten letter), noticed the low e-book price ($.99), clicked to purchase, and immediately started reading (on my Kindle for PC).

I love everything about this idea. Letter writing saved my life! When I moved in my senior year of high school, when I launched out at a college where I knew not a soul, when I moved overseas to live and work in England for seven months, and when I courted my husband during graduate school, letter writing kept me going. I still keep a stack of those old letters in my closet. I may not read them often, but they are too significant to throw away. They were a lifeline to sanity when loneliness might have driven me crazy.

Crazy! That's what Amy Weinland Daughters must have been to embark on this daunting task. But, how cool! Amy noticed a Facebook friend, Dana, posting about her son's battle with cancer. When the mother and son moved to Memphis for his treatment at St. Jude's, Amy felt compelled to send letters. Sadly, the stricken son died. Amy recalled a comment by a neighbor who, after grieving her lost husband, mentioned that at some point the casseroles and letters cease. Amy didn't want that to happen to her Facebook friend, even though they hadn't seen one another in thirty years. But how to continue expressing her condolences and prayers? She didn't even have an address for Dana. This little realization triggered something that resonated deep within. The impact of receiving a handwritten letter is incalculable. What if Amy wrote a letter (not just a note, but a 2-pager) to every Facebook connection she had?

What's even crazier? She put feet to the plan. She created a spreadsheet, placed the names in a box, pulled out each name, and wrote to each individual, no matter how close or distant in life. I rarely highlight passages in memoirs, but I did so in this book. The exercise changed Amy's heart, and mine too. I wanted to share a few of those nuggets, but in writing them down, they took up almost two pages. Here are a few key points: small, everyday actions can morph into big things; writing letters is therapeutic for both the sender and receiver; intentional letters have no monetary value, but exponential personal worth; and our interactions with people can change us if we remain open and teachable, looking for that potential in even seemingly insignificant or limited relationships (i.e., Facebook friends you have never even met but connected with through some random situation).

She presented one concept I'd love to explore more. Dana asked Amy to join in a 5K for cancer awareness. The physical exertion of this was more than Amy was accustomed to (after health issues). Her observation about praying through the physical pain struck me. She wrote, "Not only did turning my focus to God get me through the next lap, I prayed in a way I never had before. Being depleted physically seemed to augment me spiritually." I'm guessing this principle might apply to fasting as well. Hmm.

As her sister-in-law said, "Don't think that your words aren't life to someone and aren't well received if they don't quite know how to respond." So often, we crave feedback from what we send out into the world. This is inspiration and encouragement for writing, as well as posting on Facebook. Amy wrote, "The key is to... continue to press on boldly... regardless of any lack of feedback." She encourages the reader to never let a lack of "likes" keep you from sharing something that might help another individual.

Amy's correspondence with Dana was life-giving. She gave of herself in prayer and writing. Dana responded, "Know that every word you write matters!" In the same way, through her Facebook letter writing project, Amy learned, "Being connected to each was far more than an exercise in randomness and instead a very deliberate pattern that meant God had been looking out for me through relationships from the beginning."

Deal for today only: To the first five individuals who send me their email that is attached to their Kindle account (you can easily read with the Kindle for PC or Kindle on phone app), I will gift you a copy of this e-book. Express your interest and send your email address to wendy@wendygortonhill.com. Merry Christmas and happy reading and letter writing! 

Book Review: Dear Fahrenheit 451

Dear Dear Fahrenheit 451,

I saw you there across the room (okay, on the library search engine when I looked up Bradbury's book), and immediately felt smitten. You struck me as oh-so-clever and unique. Your style so interesting and appealing. What an original angle to write love letters and break-up notes to books. You can tell my appreciation; after all, "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" (wait, am I mediocre to your greatness?? if you know the full quote). You made me feel like we were old friends sitting around gossiping about the books we've known. I played along, even though it seems we don't run in the same circles. 

That voice, so conversational. But, oh my! What a mouth you have on you! Didn't you ever hear that saying, "cursing is the sign of an unimaginative mind?" I cut you some slack because, hey, I wanted to hear what books you loved and what ones you spurned. Besides, it is far easier to skim past vulgarities in a physical book as opposed to an audio book. Alas, the crass profanity should have put me on alert. Was I surprised that your list included er0t1ca?

Still, we had some good times, didn't we? Ah, the laughs at the ancient book on calculator fun. You had me playing right along when you introduced the quiz about celebrity book titles. I felt we bonded over our mutual traumatization from Misery. Plus, we do share that same love for the thesaurus. You sparked my interest in a few of your friends/titles: The Goldfinch, Whatever Makes You Happy, and Amy Falls Down. Heck, I even told my sons about you (sharing the hilarious term "s'mlesses").

But, at the end of the day, I still think I'm leaving you on the library shelves. It's not you; it's me. I just think we're too different. After all, it is like Edmund Wilson said (thanks for sharing his quote with me): "No two persons ever read the same book." I think what you look for in books and what I'm looking for may just be too different to mesh. If I see you again, I'll probably wave, but don't take offense if I turn away to hang with my own friends. At least you won't end up with 1 thumb down (my designation when I wish I could just get back the time invested). You're bound to hook up with someone else who can appreciate you for all you have to give. If nothing else, I'm sure librarians will swoon over you.

Thanks for a few tender moments in the stacks.

Wendy 

Book Review: Letters Never Sent

During my recent trip to visit my parents in Florida, I sought a book from my own coffers because I am always loathe to risk losing a library book. This book, Letters Never Sent: One Woman's Journey from Hurt to Wholeness, by Ruth E. Van Reken, has sat on my shelf for years. It was a perfect read for a journey - easy to consume in bite-sized pieces amid distractions. The book begins in Nigeria in 1951, just as the author is being sent off to boarding school by her missionary parents. With each subsequent letter, Ruth outlines the difficulties missionary kids face (loneliness, anger, insecurity and guilt). I could well relate, even though my parents never left for foreign soil to serve God. This was an honest, reflective tale.

I appreciated the author's willingness to share a glimpse into the heart and soul of her struggles. We all face different losses and wounds. Ruth's story provides hope on the other side of her personal pain. I wanted to leave the book with my mother. It was a tale she would have enjoyed reading. Instead, I shared the story with her in snippets and brought the book back home. Perhaps I will offer it up to a church library somewhere. My copy deserves further use.

Book Review: Letters About Literature (2016)

I can't recall how I stumbled onto these books, but I really enjoyed reading these letters from students to authors whose books have impacted their lives. In this 2016 collection, there are the typical front runners: letters to J.K. Rowling for the Harry Potter books, to R.J. Palacio for Wonder, Lois Lowry for The Giver, and Sharon Draper for Out of My Mind. But I really enjoyed the unexpected letters. One girl wrote a heart-wrenching letter to Bethany Hamilton explaining how she could relate to Bethany's loss of an arm in Soul Surfer because her family's trust and security were stolen by a home intruder. Another told of the relief in finding she was not alone in her struggle with her brother's autism by reading Ginny Rorby's How to Speak Dolphin. Several told of their personal experiences with the loss of a sibling to either suicide or natural causes. Plus, I once again found a book recommendation through reading these letters. I will seek out the one called Wrap-Up List because the student made it sound so enticing. Reading someone else's letter always feels like eavesdropping on their life. Pair that with books and it is a recipe for an interesting read.

Book Review: The Forever Letter

Perhaps I have too much going on in my life or too much to think about these days, but for whatever reason, I cannot seem to focus on reading lately. Of course, this would be no problem at all if I didn't write a book review blog. But, alas, I feel a pressure to keep consistent in my posting and that makes me even less eager to spend time reading, for some reason. The reading slump that took hold shortly after spring break continues to plague me. This book, The Forever Letter, is the only physical book I've completed since spring break. I think I felt personally driven to read this particular book because my oldest son will be graduating from Purdue University this Sunday, with a degree in chemical engineering, and will move to Ohio and begin his first official job in June. I have been toying with the idea of writing a letter to him at this important juncture and so this book appeared on my horizon at just the right time.

Rabbi Elana Zaiman provides the reader with an in-depth look at what is essentially the Jewish practice of writing ethical wills. The "forever letter," or ethical will, is a letter you write to your offspring sharing your values, passions, and desires for them. Some parents write these letters when they know they will be facing death shortly, after a cancer diagnosis perhaps, but others choose to pour forth their thoughts to their children even when there is no urgency or when their children are too young to fully appreciate the gesture.

I think I was most grateful for the lists of questions and subjects to contemplate prior to composing your forever letter. The book is a sounding board for honing in on what you truly desire to share with your children. I used quite a few of these writing prompts in my daily journaling, but have yet to compose my forever letter to my oldest son. Then comes the question, will I write letters to the two younger boys? What if something unexpected were to happen and only Bryce had received a personal letter from me? Would I feel like I had shortchanged the two younger boys? So, perhaps I will be focusing on writing three letters, instead of just one.

If you are at all interested in jotting down a letter to present to your children, you couldn't go wrong skimming through this brainstorming book. It will help you clarify your values and thoughts. It will give you a jumping off place for beginning the difficult process of passing along the things you think are most important to express. Even if you never take the plunge and write a letter, just thinking about this process is beneficial. I've already come to see several areas in my own life where I am failing to live out my values. If this book motivates me to pursue those values more purposefully, then it will have profited me far more than I expected when I picked it up. I cherish every personal letter I have received from others over the years, and I hope that I will complete a forever letter for my children that they can cherish, as well. Writing letters might seem like a thing of the past, but this book encourages readers to pursue the practice to leave a legacy of words for future generations.

Book Review: The Letter

The premise of this book, The Letter, hooked me instantly. I love books about letters. What could be better than finding someone else's letter and tracking down the details to discover the identities of the sender and recipient and the meaning of the words? The tag line was an effective hook as well: "In one woman's past lies another woman's future..." How would the letter from the past alter the life of a woman in the future? Moreover, the book held four pages worth of accolades from blog and Amazon reviewers. It is billed as a "Number One E-book Bestseller." All of this boded well for a riveting read.

Tina Craig volunteers at a charity shop to fill even more hours of her week away from her miserable home life with her violently alcoholic husband. One day, while sorting donated clothes, she comes across a letter in a sealed envelope. Despite bearing an address and a stamp, the letter remains undelivered and unread. Tina's curiosity compels her to open the envelope, never knowing how much this missive will change her life. The letter, dated at the outset of World War II, bears an apology and a proposal from Billy Sterling to Chrissy Skinner. How did the letter come to be in a suit-coat pocket? Why was it never sent? Did Chrissy ever know Billy's true feelings?

Although I enjoyed the book, and toward the end did find that I couldn't put it down, I didn't quite share the level of enthusiasm of the many quoted reviewers who claimed goosebumps, buckets of tears, and broken hearts. It was certainly a good story, just not as powerful as I had expected, given the countless raving reviews. Others said, "Best book I've read in a long time," "I feel like I'm a better person for reading it," "one of the finest stories I have ever read," and "I read a lot of books but it has been some time since I read a book as good as this."

For me, it lacked depth and seemed a bit predictable. The final love story didn't radiate with passion as I had expected. The two characters were simply thrown together on a quest, with no underlying tension or romantic gestures to speak of. I don't mean to imply that the book doesn't merit praise - it is a fine execution of a debut novel and I can see why the self-published e-book spread by word of mouth - but I would have given the book four stars if I had reviewed it on Amazon. Great premise. Great potential. Above average execution. Certainly Kathryn Hughes holds promise. She has written a second book, The Secret, with an equally compelling tag line: "The truth she locked away will set another woman free." Moreover, Hachette UK bought book and film rights to The Letter, so we will see if it is ever made into a movie.

Book Review: Other People's Rejection Letters

I think I was expecting something a bit different from this book, although if I had read the subtitle, I wouldn't have gone into it thinking it would primarily be about rejection letters received by other writers. The entire title is: Other People's Rejection Letters: Relationship Enders, Career Killers, and 150 Other Letters You'll Be Glad You Didn't Receive. The book covered a far wider spectrum of rejection than I was anticipating, but it was still a somewhat enjoyable experience to eavesdrop on other people's disappointments and rejections (I almost feel guilty saying that ... almost).

Although many of the letters are downright lame, I think my favorite part was a small section at the end of the book where several of the letters are explained more fully and the reader learns what happened after the rejection. For example, there were three hilarious Water Frog Certificates where the poor little girl was refused admittance to the next level up in her water training because she could not master the face float. She went on to earn an MVP title with her high school swimming team. The biggest belly laugh of all arose from eight rejection letters received by a Mr. Richard Barrett after he supposedly sent a manuscript titled, Insanity of War, to the most bizarre recipients (including Texas Instruments, Charlton Heston, Walter Cronkite, The Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association, General Motors, King Hussein of Amman, Yale University and the Vatican). One recipient actually responded with "We have reviewed the material and are unsure of your purpose in sending it to us, so we are returning it to you for safekeeping." Another man received fifteen rejection letters from NASA, but was accepted into the program on his sixteenth try.

By far, the strangest entry was a letter from F. Scott Fitzgerald, written to his daughter Scottie while she was away at college. The letter is sharp and critical and full of vitriol. But, the caustic tone isn't what renders it amusing. I was fascinated because the letter is so poorly written. He urges her to read it twice because he wrote it twice. You'd think he'd have communicated better after going over it a second time. You'd be wrong.

As with one writer who rejected the editor by failing to send any rejection letters, the topic of rejection caused me to think. She writes, "I don't have any rejection letters in my possession and it's not because I always have excelled at everything I've done, I think it's because I haven't put myself out there enough - haven't taken enough chances." In a similar way, I don't think I've put myself, or my writings, out there enough. I receive a few rejections and immediately withdraw from the process of sending things out. I must remedy this. The rejection needs to propel me to try harder (yet with wisdom, not willy-nilly like Mr. Barrett - ha) and to fail to shrink back from the repeated failure. Who knows? Maybe on that sixteenth try, someone will bite and a publisher will offer to take my work on. I mustn't give up at attempt number six. I must keep putting my work out there for consideration. And, I must keep writing regardless of any rejection letters I may receive.

Down Memory Lane

Recently I unearthed two boxes full of nostalgic items. The first box contained bundles of letters from about five or six good friends. These letters were written to me during my year long exile in South Dakota (my parents were moved there during my senior year of high school and, to me, it felt like outer Siberia). I had to chuckle when my best male correspondent wrote: "Could you send me some more of those xeroxed photos of South Dakota? I'm planning on starting a collection of South Dakota xeroxed pictures." Ha! I had sent him two photos from my text book for my required South Dakota History class.



It was great fun reading through some of these letters again. It made me long for a really good correspondence again. My friend, Brian, wrote to me faithfully (about every other week) during my final two years of high school and all through college. He was funny and open and often our correspondence covered deep subjects. I thoroughly miss that blessing in my life.

The second box contained little knick-knacks from the past. I especially loved seeing these key chains from London and from Disney World. This pencil gripper bears the memory of a punishment where I had to write a certain sentence several hundred times before I could go to camp. Wonder if that exercise altered my actions or mood? Plus, it was a joy to see my old Northern Illinois Youth Band patch (so many happy memories of times in the youth band) and a special sachet gift from a friend in college.



My husband would complain that I save too much, but in moments like these, I'm grateful to have hung on to things which give me such deep, happy memories.

Kudos to this Exemplary Teacher

This teacher, Mr. Stroup, profiled in an AOL article deserves special kudos. What an outstanding teacher! What a kind soul to take such an enduring and intimate interest in his students.

One of my favorite things about my job back at Littlejohn Elementary in DeKalb, IL, was the opportunity to write to some of the students I encountered during my days. They had a wonderful program called Wee Deliver and I enjoyed sending and receiving letters. I recently found a letter in my photos/memorabilia box downstairs. It was from my son and sent with Wee Deliver during his second grade year. It was spare and perfunctory. Next, I opened the next letter and it all came back to me. He never wrote back when I sent him a letter, so I finally bribed him. I offered him a trip to Chuck-E-Cheese's if he would write back. Hee-hee.

When I moved away from DeKalb, I continued to keep in contact with a few students. I sent a birthday card to J., the student I had served for three years as an aide, for a few years. Then, when she reached her teen years, I thought she probably didn't want to receive a card from me. I skipped her 13th birthday. This past year, I was in DeKalb and stopped by to see her. She actually mentioned the birthday cards and wondered why I hadn't sent one last year. I will try to resume that practice.

I am presently in a 6-week Bible study, using Dr. Leslie Parrott's book, You Matter More Than You Think. Her goal is to remind us of our areas of passion and to encourage us to continue to make a difference in the lives around us.

I want to say a special thank you to Mr. Stroup (who just happens to be from my present neck of the woods), for reminding me of the little ways we make a difference in the lives around us.

Book Review: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

I love reading correspondence, even when it's addressed to someone else. That's why I enjoyed my college job at the Marion E. Wade Collection, transcribing C. S. Lewis' personal letters. Letters contain interesting tid-bits, relational building blocks, and thoughtful life evaluations.

When I tried to write an epistolary novel, I researched many books in that style. I relished the books of Kate and Sarah Klise. Another favorite epistolary novel was Love, Ruby Lavender. I believe The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society appealed for the same reasons.

Unfortunately, I read this book before leaving for camp (CBLI). Since I returned it to the library prior to camp, my brain is fuzzy for writing this review. Plus, with so many other well-written reviews, I worry I've nothing worthwhile to add. I enjoyed the book. Yet, I don't think I'd say it is among the top books read this year.

The book includes correspondence between columnist Juliet Ashton and a group with a mouthful of a name. At least this colorful name lent a unique title for the book. The correspondence kicks off when one member, Dawsey Adams, notes the columnist's name and address in a second-hand book he purchased. Sensing a kindred soul, he dashes a letter off to her.

Side note: Now, wouldn't that be fun to experience? Imagine opening your mail to discover a letter from a complete stranger. The letter is full of comments regarding a book you discarded. I rarely discard books. Still, it would be great fun to interact with someone else who feels passionate about a shared reading experience.

My blogging friend, Lucy, recently mentioned an interesting reading group to which she belongs. The five participants each select a book and read it, while making notes in the margin. Lucy will receive her original book back, filled with the notes of her other four friends. Sounds intriguing!

But back to the book: Dawsey explains this strangely named literary society's origins. They meet during the German occupation on the island of Guernsey. Juliet is so fascinated by his tale and further correspondence from the group, she journeys to Guernsey to conduct more research. She feels compelled to write about their experiences. As she digs deep into their problems, she stirs up a few of her own.

The author's storytelling ability is profound. Although the beginning seemed slow, once I got mid-way into the book, I cared for the well-drawn characters. Plus, the book offered an interesting view into life during war-time occupation. The final positive? It provided clear evidence of how books enrich our lives. It was a great read.

The Power of Prayer

I wrote this post out by hand last night (Yes, CG - I used my new Sharpie pen and Yes, it is magnificent!). I wanted to log on and write a post, but ended up fighting a headache at bedtime (that is a completely normal occurrence around here with boys who seem to keenly understand that I am waiting for their weary bodies to hit dreamland so that my weary body can hit cyberland and lasso a few moments for myself). MS begged me to lie with him and I fell asleep. I awoke at midnight and went to wash up the dishes and finish a load of laundry. Just before I shut down the computer, I decided to check my e-mail.

I quickly read an update from my mom concerning my sister-in-law, who is fighting a physical battle in the hospital. I noticed an update from Team Larson, but thought, "maybe I'm not ready to read that yet." Instead I opened up another CarePages update and read the news of Coleman on that site. Coleman's physical battle is over. Caden, Scott and Peggy's emotional battle has shifted to a new field. How I ache for and with them!

Before I could head to Coleman's page, my Internet connection broke off. My mind held a blur of thoughts, despite the lingering headache. This is how I used to do things - with pen and paper at night, wringing out all the emotional intensities and tornadoes of thoughts, so that I could sleep unencumbered.

Although a large part of last night's emotional storm included waves of grief and sympathy, it also swirled around the concept of the power of prayer. Yesterday, just after listening to a phone message from my mom explaining that Miriam was in the hospital, I read an update which my brother Tim had posted on Amelia's Caringbridge page. Tim requested prayer for Miriam and my brother David and family. He emphasized his strong belief in "the power of prayer."

Indeed, I prayed for Miriam throughout the day yesterday. Mixed in with the prayers, were many comments of gratitude to God for the blessings Miriam has added to my life over the years.

I ended up digging out the bag of letters I had retrieved from storage at my in-laws' house last year. These were the letters that helped to keep me afloat during my lonely senior year in high school, when my parents had moved from Chicago to Sioux Falls, SD. Several of those letters were from Miriam.

In one letter, she encouraged me to hang in there because the following year I would be going off to college as she had done that year. She shared the freedoms and challenges of college. She wrote, "It's really great and I'm learning to trust in the Lord every day. I can't do it by myself. Only He knows what the future holds for me."

She closed her letter with the following poem:

Life's Little Tests

We don't need the courage to face life's big tests.
What we need is courage to meet life's little tests.
What we need is the courage to follow a regular routine,
the courage to stick to our plans,
the courage to keep the petty irritations of the day from blocking our efforts,
the courage to keep on going hour after hour.
We need to remember that it isn't the big trees
that trip us up as we walk through the forest,
but the vines on the ground, the exposed roots, the low underbrush.

by: Clay Hamlin

I know the poem was a tremendous encouragement because the loneliness I faced in that period of my life was really one of life's little tests. It was not a major battlefield, but it still demanded courage.

As I read of Coleman's passing, I began to think again about the power of prayer. Just the other night, when ES couldn't sleep, I asked him to pray for Coleman. I added, "Pray for Caden, too. He's only 5 and his parents are trying to prepare him for this big loss."

ES has asked me why I follow the CarePages of families I don't even know. As I felt the tug of grief over Coleman's outcome, I was tempted to wonder the same thing. Thousands of individuals have been praying for Coleman. Thousands like me are grieving his loss and asking God to carry his family through this difficult time.

Of course, those thoughts led to other streams of thought: The thought ... "I'm just one among thousands who have been beating on heaven's door begging for a miracle." The thought of the Scripture, "The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much!" (James 5:16b) The thought, "I'm not righteous enough. Other prayer warriors have availed more than me." And, "Were our prayers for nought?"

Then ... hang on! I AM a prayer warrior. Wait a minute. I'm a prayer warrior? I've never really considered myself a prayer warrior. That is not to say that I haven't functioned as one. In fact, for years, I would wake in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, and if I wasn't frantically writing, I was kneeling by my child or my husband, praying over the battles we were engaged in. But I prayed fervently for my own pressing needs and concerns.

I began to recognize a shift in my spiritual situation. I have noted before that my relationship with God is not as strong or clear as it used to be. Going to church has often been more painful than uplifting. Many a Sunday, I would be surrounded by praising worshippers and my heart would be screaming, "Where are you, God? Why aren't you fighting this battle for me? Why am I losing ground instead of gaining ground." (I had claimed the verse in II Chronicles 20:17 which states that the battle is the Lord's.) I noticed the wounds of my present situation and misinterpreted the outcome of the battle.

It is interesting that God has brought to fruition many of the changes I begged for in my marriage, yet that doesn't make me feel closer to Him yet. I still feel like a naughty child out in the hallway, doing a time out. Sometimes, I still question whether or not God truly loves me.

However, the shift in prayer focus drives home a new truth. I may not be able to feel closeness with God in Sunday worship or in quiet times. I still may not be ready to review the real losses and victories in my personal situations. But, I have grown a new found closeness to the Lord in these petitions for the families of Coleman, Julian, Nicholas, Janae, etc.

As in the assessment of my own battles, it would be easy to look at Coleman's death and feel defeated. To wonder if our prayers did indeed avail much, when the outcome brings such pain. Yet, I'm thinking anew about the power of prayer.

In my lonely senior year, the fervent prayers of my family and friends helped to carry me. In my lonely isolation of our lives here in Indiana, my prayers for others are carrying them. Praise be to God, they are carrying me as well!

I wish that no families faced the loss of their vibrant young child to the ravages of cancer. I wish that we could be spared the grief and heartache. I wish that we could be free of the burdens of illness and sin and suffering. But, I thank God for the ability to access Him in prayer. I thank Him for hearing our screams and being patient with our limited understanding of these battlefields and their outcomes.

I continue to cling to the power of prayer. I continue to hold His hand in the dark tunnels, praying that He will get us safely to the other side. And when I get to "the other side" which is eternity, I intend to toss Coleman in the air and thank him for being "Turious Toleman" and for being a part of my life and for offering me a chance to experience the power of prayer.

My First Internet Friend

Last month, when I interviewed Leah at http://www.ciboulette.blogspot.com/ I had asked her if she had a foreign pen pal. In her response, she threw the question back at me and I have been meaning to write about it for some time now.

I have always loved reading stories about foreign pen pals who write faithfully for many years and eventually meet. There was a touching story like this recently in The Salvation Army's magazine, The War Cry. It was even about a woman my parents knew since she attended the Janesville, Wisconsin, Salvation Army.

But I never had a foreign pen pal until several years ago. It is funny. I am trying to remember when exactly I met my first internet friend and it seems like I have known her for so long that I cannot remember when our friendship first started. I know that my ES was probably 2 or 3 when we began writing, so our friendship is going on 10 years now (that is amazing!)

It was really chance that brought us together even. My husband was on the computer and noticed that AOL offered a pen pal hook-up. He knows how much I love writing, love travel and love meeting people from other countries, so he suggested I give it a try. I think I only responded to three or four possible listings.

Katja was the one person who responded and began to regularly correspond with me via e-mail. She lives in Germany. I had thought that I would seek out someone from England, because that is probably my first love (I am an incurable anglophile), but did look over the profiles for people from Germany as well because my mother's mother came to this country from Germany, my mother spoke some German to us while growing up and I took German courses in high school, college and graduate school.

Katja does very well writing to me in English, which is a good thing because I would have a hard time reading her letters if they were written in Deutsch! Every once in a while, I will write to her in German and it is usually quite a laugh! She is always gracious when I point out an error in her English.

After a few years of corresponding and a few phone calls, we actually got the chance to meet. In early 2004, I was on-line when Katja and I began to instant message. She was writing that she wanted to travel somewhere, but didn't know where she should go. I am so naive! I immediately wrote - "Why don't you come to the United States to visit me, then?" I ran to my calendar and told her that our spring break was coming up.

I can't remember if my husband was at work when this conversation took place, but I know that when he learned that I had invited her, he was out-of-his-mind with worry. His arguments were all valid. "We don't know anything about this person. So you've written back and forth for a few years, how do you really know she is who she says she is? Please tell me you didn't invite her to stay in our house! A complete stranger from across the globe!" Our house was very small, so I didn't really think she would want to stay in our house, but to be honest, looking back, I probably would have made that invitation if my husband hadn't objected.

After several weeks of making arrangements, she finally arrived. By the time Katja walked towards my ES and I in the airport lobby, I was beyond excited. I was nervous, apprehensive, excited, thrilled ... everything all rolled up in one. The drive home was weird. She had just landed on American soil and was getting used to speaking English exclusively (she had actually come to the States for a year as a teenage foreign exchange student). Plus, she was tired from the flight and time change. I showed her our home, introduced her to my husband and then drove her to her hotel (a lovely Country Inns and Suites in Sycamore, IL).

She stayed for 10 days. The first few days (Thu & Fri?) I had to work, so she exercised in the fitness room and wandered a bit. Thursday evening, I remember she came with me to our elementary school's Spring Sing. I was working with two special needs kindergarteners that year, so I had to accompany them while they sang on the stage, but from that point on, I sat with her in the audience. She seemed to enjoy the whole thing, even though these were my students and my son and meant nothing to her.

After meeting her in person, I would have to say that if we lived closer to one another, we probably would not have developed a friendship. She is very quiet and reserved. She is athletic and sports-minded (something I am NOT). She loved shopping while here (I can't say that I love to shop!) and is very stylish (again, I'm not). But what I have loved about her has been her openness with me. She is very real and doesn't hold back the stuff that might be hard to listen to. She has had some difficult times in life. She was married and divorced. I have felt very fortunate to have her as a friend.

There is too much about Katja to say in one blog post, so I will end by explaining why she is on my mind these days. She is enduring another difficult struggle and has shared this with me. My heart is breaking for her. I have vowed to pray for her, but that is all that I can do on my end. I have no answers to her problem. I can feel her sorrow with her and tell her that I care, but that is all. Across all these miles, we have made a connection. We have only spent nine days in each other's presence (I think we lost one day to illness), yet I love her as a sister. I am so thankful that I found her pen pal listing and that she responded when I wrote. I am so thankful that she has never thrown in the towel and just stopped writing to me.

I actually look forward to the next chance I get to sit across from Katja eating a meal together. Will it be at a Panera Bread (one of her favorites) in the States or will it be at a tiny German cafe? Will she visit me in my new spacious home in the farmlands of Indiana or will I visit her in the house she and her boyfriend, Martin, have just bought? I don't know, but I hope we get the chance to meet again some day. And I hope to tell you more about my special pen-friend!