Book Review: Better Than My Dreams

In Better Than My Dreams, Paula Rinehart declares "I secretly believe that I'm the queen of second-quessing, though I know many women who would vie for the title."

Me! I'm in that pageant.

One of my favorite movies is "Sliding Doors," with Gwyneth Paltrow. It tells the double sided story of a woman who meets a tangent in the road. One side of the story shows her returning home to discover her unfaithful, leech of a boyfriend with another woman. However, in a second version, the simple act of missing her train catapults a whole different direction to her life. I'm definitely a frequent flyer on What If? Airlines!

Rinehart goes on to explain, "Hidden behind most of our regrets is the myth of the guaranteed right choice - as though if we'd only done it right, the path would have been smooth."

Of course, one of the most tempting "what ifs" for me revolves around my marital decision. Having been raised in The Salvation Army (a church with such strong cultural identity that I could merely meet another Salvationist and feel like long-lost kin), I too often wonder how my life might have been different if I had met and married a Salvationist. My children have a completely alien life from the one I experienced while growing up in that particular denomination.

The reactions of other Salvationists certainly played some role in priming the pump of regret. One officer, a close friend of our family for years, called and urged me not to "buy trouble," as his own daughter had done in her marriage to someone outside the Army. Another Salvationist, married to a non-Salvationist, questioned me over and over again as to whether God changes His mind (introducing seeds of doubt). My own corps officer at the time, treated my future husband quite poorly and pulled me aside to ask, "how could you possibly turn your back on the Army after all they have done for you and invested in you?"

Initially, I was incensed! How dare these individuals, who did not even know my fiance, turn my actions into something traitorous and harmful. How dare they imply that what was invested in me was invested for the Army alone and not for God's wider purposes.

Eventually, I began to teeter between the strong desire to prove their judgements wrong and my own internal temptations to question the path God had chosen for me (after all, if God had desired for me to be in a permanent relationship with a Salvationist, He had ample opportunity and constant willingness, if not desperation, on my part). But really, it all comes down to trusting God's sovereignty, as Rinehart's book asserts.

My favorite passage, and the one that led me to pick up this book, is titled, "What Might Be Simply Is Not." When Catherine Gillespie reviewed the book, she highlighted this passage where Rinehart quotes Jim Elliot, as he contemplates his own regrets:

"I have returned to his words many times when I feel the loss of something I had anticipated but which fails to happen - all the what-could-have-beens of life. Elliott writes:

'What is, is actual - what might be simply is not, and I must not therefore query God as though he robbed me - of things that are not ... [the] things that are belong to us, and they are good, God-given and enriched.'

There is a quiet release in my spirit ... when I realize that often, my dreams really are not God's dreams. What does not happen was not meant to take place. My failure - or someone else's failure - didn't catch God by surprise, like it slipped under the wire when he wasn't looking."

This book is a must-read for anyone struggling to make sense of a life that hasn't followed the path you desired. It is a gentle reminder that God has a "different kind of wonderful" in store for you, that often can only be achieved by bringing you through the difficult patches that we want to view as mistakes or regrets.

I also loved this book because she quotes so many of my favorite people. In a passage focused on finding God's place for you, Rinehart quotes Frederick Buechner, "The place God has for you is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet."

She goes on to state: "the common theme that emerges from the lives of women who smile at the future - women who love their lives - is that they've discovered the intersection where their deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.... The fine irony is this: discovering that small part, the one with your name on it, is often the phoenix that rises from the ashes of your broken dreams."

She quotes C.S. Lewis, "God's love is unique in the universe in that it consumes and yet leaves us more intact."

She explains, "What we clutch has a way of being pried from our grips. And yet God is there, shaping in you and through you what he really means to come of your life."

She encourages the reader to nurture a spirit of gratitude despite less-than-ideal circumstances. "You don't have to waste away in the jail of this-should-have-been and I-wish-it-were. The truth is that there will always be something missing in the picture. Gratitude is getting to enjoy the moment ... Gratitude is what keeps you from standing knee-deep in a river of water and dying of thirst."

I was deeply thrilled when I discovered that this little book held a quote I had long wished I had taken down verbatim, when I heard Brennan Manning deliver it as a benediction for a service I attended. It turns out the words are actually from an old priest named Larry Hines. To me, it sums up the beauty of fully resting in God's divine sovereignty for your life.

"May all your expectations be frustrated;
May all your plans be thwarted.
May all your desires be withered into nothingness
So that you may experience the poverty and powerlessness of a child ...
And sing and dance in the great compassionate heart of God."

Before I pass this book on to anyone else (something I feel convicted to do, because it holds such important encouragement), I plan to take some time (perhaps at my summer retreat of CBLI) working through the excellent study guide section at the end of the book. After that, let me know if you want to be on my lending rotation.

Playing Catch-Up

As much as the past few weeks have been difficult, they have also been busy (in a good way). The day of Rob's death, Bryce had his 8th Grade Recognition Ceremony and came home with six or seven certificates. I had planned to leave the little boys home with Daddy, but since he departed immediately to be with his family once we heard the news, it meant the boys had to sit through the hour and a half ceremony with me. Ha!

They actually did amazingly well. I brought along an activity book for Trevor (who was content to do dot-to-dots for at least a half hour) and a Thomas the Tank Engine coloring book (the kind where you merely press a stick against the page and color appears - what a great concept) for Sean.

Trevor has recently developed quite an appreciation for pretty girls. When we are out and about, he will point out a girl and say "when I grow up and have a girlfriend, that's what I want her to look like" (sometimes more loudly than we'd like). So, I was highly amused when one pretty classmate of Bryce's walked forward to get her certificate and Trevor tried to whistle. Hee-hee!

Then, the faculty announced some special prize and declared the individual to be a "winner." Sean turned to me, momentarily stirred from his distracted reverie, and said "Did he just say 'We have a wiener?????'" Trevor didn't hear it, but I had a hard time silencing his questions as to why Mommy was doubled over in laughter.

Trevor also had his own special moment of fame, when he attended his preschool graduation. After several songs, the teacher invited each student to come to the microphone and state their name and what they want to be when they grow up. Most of the kids expressed ambitions to be "a ninja," or "a musketeer," or "a princess," or "a fireman." Trevor walked right up, said his name clearly and declared he wants to be an artist when he grows up. I beamed.

We also have been privileged to see lots of family lately. Of course, we saw all but two cousins for Rob's viewing and memorial. Trevor and Sean thoroughly enjoyed spending time with cousin Tyler and his dog, Cocoa (alias, Coco-Loco).




Then, my youngest brother and family came for a brief visit (on their way to a wedding in Indianapolis). The boys love their visits. First off, they have loads of fun with the kids. Secondly, they almost always get some cool hand-me-downs from their older cousin Caleb.

This time, they brought one of Caleb's outgrown Spiderman costumes (an ultra cool one that is reversible, for the black and the red Spiderman, and has gigantic muscles) and a Spiderman bike helmet with matching elbow and knee pads. The boys both wanted to wear these items to church that Sunday. I think Bryce was mortified that I might actually let them (I tend to be pretty lax about their appearance).

When I "ran away from home" last weekend, I was extremely grateful for the chance to crash (and visit) at my older brother, David's house. I felt guilty because they are in the midst of all the stress of a move (to Peoria), so my unexpected visit was probably less than convenient. But, they spent time with me, listened to my venting, and graciously entertained me during a group trip to Big Lots (a cheap distribution store, where I had the chance to discover that even teens often cannot walk through a store without goofing around like my little boys - hee-hee).

Shortly after I returned home from my brief visit with David's family, my parents arrived for their annual June visit. We had a really nice time. They nurtured my wanderlust with tales of their recent cruise (a first, for them) and my Dad's unexpected treat to my mom of tickets to see Mary Poppins for her birthday.

Apparently, Mary Poppins was AMAZING! They said that Bert walked the walls and danced on the ceiling and Mary Poppins flew right over their heads. They were able to show me some footage of the play from a DVD. Now I am hungry to find a way to take Trevor to see it when it comes to Indianapolis later this year.

This week, Trevor is attending a Galactic Blast VBS at the church where he attended preschool. Wow! What a phenomenal program they have there. We paid a $10 fee and he received a t-shirt and a CD-rom full of songs and games. There are 207 children enrolled (I was worried Trev might be overwhelmed by the vast sea of kids, but he just plowed ahead, found his team row and joined the throngs), with almost 80 volunteers.

When we returned home from VBS, Trevor wanted to try out the CD-rom. The games are clever and fun. One game was a quiz over the information covered in the class today. Trevor actually wanted to play that several times and did quite well at answering the questions correctly.

Thankfully, we're also keeping busy with things like Lunch Bunch (where they get a free sack lunch and a free choice of book every Tuesday), free movies at the cinema and at the library, and playing on their swing set. A bird built a nest up in the fort part of the swing set and the boys have been watching the 3 eggs. Amazingly, the mama birdie has kept her vigil despite the poor choice of housing location.

Today, when John came home with some groceries from Walmart, I overheard him exclaim, "What in the world??"

It turns out, a toad was hopping across the living room floor. I would have suspected that Trevor brought the toad in, but he was at VBS, at the time. We surmise the toad had been in the garage and hopped up the steps into the house while John unloaded groceries.

I guess you could say, life has really been "hoppin'" around here!

When the Road God Chooses Doesn't Look Like the Best Path

The last several weeks have been quite difficult ones. On Thursday, May 20th, my husband's younger brother, who had long struggled with an alcohol addiction, took his life. He was 44 years old. He himself admitted that he had fought against this overwhelming compulsion to drink from the age of twelve on, with only a ten year period of sobriety between the ages of 21 and 31.

It was during those ten years, that I met Rob, and eventually his brother, John. When I returned from the mission field and a brief stint in England, my sister-in-law proclaimed that there was a young man at their corps (The Norridge, Illinois, Salvation Army Corps) whom I just had to meet. I know that she recognized that I would be drawn to his passionate intensity for Christ as a moth to a flame.

Everything Rob did was with an intensity that left others astonished. I remember friends of mine, who were in The Salvation Army's Chicago Staff Band, commenting on Rob's eating habits. That guy could put away more food than anyone I ever met. At one point, he told his brother he had eaten 17 slices of Little Caesar's pizza in one sitting. Moreover, in later years, Rob chose to cover almost every food he ate in copious amounts of hot sauce.

When we would visit my in-laws, Rob would cook out and prepare an incredible array of burgers, brats and hot dogs. After one spicy burger left me sick (during my pregnancy with Trevor), I became more timid around his prepared meats. Of course, that didn't hold me back from enjoying his delectable home-made ice creams.

But, in later years, I really had come to dislike being around Rob. After his first marriage dissolved, his personality seemed changed. He was so fiercely loyal to his only daughter (who, at twelve, is now dealing with her own life-altering challenges) that he often blamed my oldest son for any of their altercations. Of course, I responded with my own mother bear tendencies.

Because Rob lived with my in-laws for several years, here and there, over the past five or six years, it meant that a visit to my in-laws automatically included visits with Rob. Although in many ways his presence was a blessing (a rich distraction from the pains and complaints of my father-in-law for my two young sons who couldn't merely contain their boisterous behavior because "Grandpa is ill"), it was also difficult. He had a patronizing tone with my mother-in-law that really grated on me. He would say, "Sit down, mother dear. Stop being so feisty, mother dear. I can get that, mother dear."

Moreover, his passion for God had shifted. It seemed to me that when his first wife gave up on him, Rob gave up on himself and on God. He remarried, but that relationship only lasted a year as well. It became painfully obvious that he was drinking. His demons were chasing him and all he wanted to do was run.

There were countless individuals who would have gladly stood in the gap for him. Many mutual Salvation Army friends would ask after him whenever I saw them. When I passed along their phone numbers, Rob ignored them. When I requested their prayerful intervention, Rob was incensed. Instead of accepting the support of others, as Moses required assistance in holding up his arms as the people of Israel crossed the parted Red Sea, Rob pulled deeper and deeper into himself and cursed the difficulties he faced.

For me, the most difficult aspect of dealing with Rob's death is that I can so completely relate to Rob's isolation and despair. I've been where he was on that fateful morning and it is only my own lack of resolve or strength that has kept me here, facing another day's difficulties. And in typical default mode, I reverted to asking many "what if" questions.

Rob had attempted suicide several times before, so the actual act didn't really take us by surprise. God seemed to intervene in each of those other occasions. After his first attempt, a police officer, who couldn't explain why he had driven out among the cornfields that day, noticed his car and his body slumped over. When Rob's stomach was pumped, he was violently angry that his plans had been thwarted. However, after that attempt (around age 20), he sought rehabilitation and many of his brass band friends from the University of Illinois (my Salvation Army friends) began to visit him and encourage him.

I found myself asking things like ... "what if Rob had succeeded that first time? what if, therefore, I never heard his zealous testimony? what if, therefore, I failed to consider or give his brother a chance?"

There were other "what ifs" that filled my brain, as well. What if my own children demonstrate these same propensities to extremes? What if one of my sons develops an addiction that proves a constant trial?

It was at this point that God's inscrutable timing began to appear. Several years back, I had read a book review for Paula Rinehart's Better Than My Dreams: Finding What You Long For Where You Might Not Think to Look, on Catherine Gillespie's blog. She mentioned one quote by Jim Elliott in her review and that one quote made me long to find and read the book. However, our library didn't have the book and every avenue I tried came up empty.

Shortly before Bryce's birthday, he requested an item on Amazon and wanted it to arrive quickly. Rather than pay exorbitant shipping fees, we opted to sign on for the one-month free trial of Amazon Prime, which allows for free shipping and reduced fees for urgent shipping. As our one month came to an end, John and I both made up a list of books we couldn't obtain elsewhere for purchase during the final free-shipping window. I purchased Paula Rinehart's book and began reading it on the drive over to Rob's viewing.

During the past several weeks, I have been a yo-yo. On the up swing, I have quoted from and recommended this book to other friends who struggle with accepting a life that is less than they had hoped for. Indeed, I have a distant friend on Facebook who recently shared her own personal struggle with me (involving her passionate desire for another child, her husband's participation and then abrupt withdrawal from adoption proceedings, and her own feeling that he has crushed her heart and stolen her dreams). I find myself wanting to send this book to her because it will speak to her wounded heart. There are so many individuals, like me, who analyze their life and feel short-changed or discontented, who need someone to pass them a pair of reading glasses that enable them to envision what the Lord might be eager to accomplish through their less-than-ideal circumstances.

Then, I hit the down swing. I have been weaning from the antidepressant Cymbalta. I was convinced that the drug was causing me to feel entirely depleted and to gain stubborn weight in my mid-section. Another friend has suggested that I might be dealing with adrenal fatigue (so I am pursuing further information and testing for that). Needless to say, many days I am a ragged mess.

I have been unable to rouse myself to deal with anything (thus the mindless distraction of the pointless Spider Solitaire games). I could not even blog. Even since Rob's loss, I have found myself wishing for the release he sought, wanting to abandon the struggle and simply cease to exist. It has seemed like more than I could bear. Last weekend, I even "ran away from home."

That was, in itself, quite discouraging. I headed back to DeKalb and felt overwhelmingly that there was nothing there to really return to. Although I could breathe freely (something I often cannot do at home in IN), it felt like trying to jam a now-circular peg into a square hole.

Tonight, I am back on the up-swing. One of the cancer families that I follow, sent out a post including a link to an article by John Piper, called "Don't Waste Your Cancer." So many tidbits from this article are resonating with me tonight. Although Piper's ten main points refer to individuals struggling with cancer, they could equally be posed to others. If Rob had read those words and inserted "alcoholism" for every c-word, he would possibly still be here. I choose, for myself, to merely substitute the idea of unwanted trial. And, really, don't we all have some trial in our lives that tests us like cancer, that takes us on a road that looks weedy and like a bad suggestion from Mapquest?

Here are his ten points (along with a few comments added by his colleague, David Powlison) that I found especially helpful (although, I would highly recommend reading the entire article at the provided link):

"You will waste your cancer" (addiction/trial/difficult marriage) ...

1) "if you do not believe it is designed for you by God."

2) "if you believe it is a curse and not a gift." (David Powlison adds "Your cancer, in itself, is one of those 10,000 ‘shadows of death’ (Psalm 23:4) that come upon each of us: all the threats, losses, pains, incompletion, disappointment, evils. But in his beloved children, our Father works a most kind good through our most grievous losses.")

3) "if you seek comfort from your odds rather than from God." Piper adds, "The aim of God in your cancer (among a thousand other good things) is to knock props out from under our hearts so that we rely utterly on him."

4) "if you refuse to think about death."

5) "if you think that “beating” cancer means staying alive rather than cherishing Christ. Satan’s and God’s designs in your cancer are not the same. Satan designs to destroy your love for Christ. God designs to deepen your love for Christ. Cancer does not win if you die. It wins if you fail to cherish Christ. God’s design is to wean you off the breast of the world and feast you on the sufficiency of Christ. It is meant to help you say and feel, “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”

6) "if you spend too much time reading about cancer and not enough time reading about God. Cancer is meant to waken us to the reality of God. "It is meant to make unshakable, indestructible oak trees out of us: “His delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers” (Psalm 1:2).

7) "if you let it drive you into solitude instead of deepen your relationships with manifest affection." (And these are, I think my favorite additional words from David Powlison:) "Our culture is terrified of facing death. It is obsessed with medicine. It idolizes youth, health and energy. It tries to hide any signs of weakness or imperfection. You will bring huge blessing to others by living openly, believingly and lovingly within your weaknesses. Paradoxically, moving out into relationships when you are hurting and weak will actually strengthen others."

8) "if you grieve as those who have no hope." Here David Powlison adds, "How on earth can heartache coexist with love, joy, peace, and an indestructible sense of life purpose? In the inner logic of faith, this makes perfect sense. In fact, because you have hope, you may feel the sufferings of this life more keenly: grief upon grief. In contrast, the grieving that has no hope often chooses denial or escape or busyness because it can’t face reality without becoming distraught. In Christ, you know what’s at stake, and so you keenly feel the wrong of this fallen world. You don’t take pain and death for granted. You love what is good, and hate what is evil."

9) " if you treat sin as casually as before. Are your besetting sins as attractive as they were before you had cancer? If so you are wasting your cancer. Cancer is designed to destroy the appetite for sin. Pride, greed, lust, hatred, unforgiveness, impatience, laziness, procrastination—all these are the adversaries that cancer is meant to attack. Don’t just think of battling against cancer. Also think of battling with cancer. All these things are worse enemies than cancer. Don’t waste the power of cancer to crush these foes. Let the presence of eternity make the sins of time look as futile as they really are." David Powlison adds, "Suffering really is meant to wean you from sin and strengthen your faith. If you are God-less, then suffering magnifies sin. Will you become more bitter, despairing, addictive, fearful, frenzied, avoidant, sentimental, godless in how you go about life?"

10) "if you fail to use it as a means of witness to the truth and glory of Christ. Christians are never anywhere by divine accident. There are reasons for why we wind up where we do. Consider what Jesus said about painful, unplanned circumstances: “They will lay their hands on you and persecute you, delivering you up to the synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors for my name’s sake. This will be your opportunity to bear witness” (Luke 21:12 -13).

Once again, in the words of a Bryan Duncan song, "God knows, and I don't, what's good for me." It may not feel good. It may not appear to be the best path. But it can be the path that leads me to mark my compass towards Him. I only pray that I can continue to seek Him rather than give way to discouragement and preference for easy streets.

Pan du Chocolat

I have just been raving to my parents about all the new products which have been available at our Aldi store. You really can't beat Aldi! Their food tastes good and is significantly cheaper (even cheap enough to warrant the 20-30 minute trip it takes to drive there when I go every other week). Indeed, we have found that we prefer the taste of Aldi's dairy products ("Friendly Farms") over those from Walmart or Kroger ("Deans").

One of the things I had purchased, but hadn't really had opportunity to use (since it would only be eaten by hubby and I) was a spinach strudel. It was fantastic! I served it with spaghetti and strawberries. The boys wouldn't try it, but my parents enjoyed it.

Well over a year ago, I had purchased a new item that I noticed at Aldi - chocolate croissants.

Immediately, my mind was transported back to my days in Paris, when I would stop at the local patisseries to sample their pan du chocolat (not sure why when I google this now, the word is usually spelled pain au chocolat?? - pain and chocolate, simply cannot go together unless it is a scenario where I am in great pain and must therefore ingest chocolate~!~).

Since the box was only $3 and contained four croissants, I figured it to be quite the bargain. Time after time, I considered making them, but didn't think anyone else in my household would try them. Then, they got old. When I had company, I couldn't bring myself to prepare them for fear they might not actually still taste good.

Last night, however, I decided to bite the bullet. I placed the four frozen croissants on my cookie tray and left them out overnight to rise. This morning, I whipped up one egg and brushed each croissant, then baked them for the required 20 minutes.

Compared to what I remember in France, it was "meh," at best. Of course, it didn't help that the "use by date" was back in February. Can I really fault them for the second rate quality when I allowed the product to sit in my freezer for far too long?

I guess what really got me was when I glanced at the nutrition facts. I had already tossed the remaining whipped egg into a pan for a mini omelet. Then, I ate one croissant. That one croissant, average at best, just zapped 65% of my daily recommendation for saturated fat. I feel as if I shouldn't eat another bite for the rest of the day (I did have a small bowl of oatmeal with a banana for lunch and I hope to ride the Airdyne cycle for a half hour this afternoon).

If you are fortunate enough to have other family members who will assist you in consuming the croissants and who will not mind the incredible saturated fat toll, and if you are fortunate enough to have an Aldi nearby and happen upon the boxes of said croissants ... then, by all means, snatch them up and prepare them at your earliest convenience. Also, feel free to invite me over.

I suppose, if I am in the mood for a chocolate croissant from now on, it would be better to merely pay a bit under $2 and purchase one at Panera Bread. Then again, that is highly unlikely since the best time to eat a chocolate croissant is for breakfast and the nearest Panera Bread is out past the Aldi.

The only alternative must then be ... a trip to Paris. It is the only way! I will just have to start saving pennies found on the street until I have enough to finance a trip to the home of real and true pan du chocolat. I may be eighty by then, but it will be heavenly! If you begin saving your pennies found on the street, perhaps you would like to go with me??
===============
P.S. It appears that I could find french chocolate croissants in the Broad Ripple area of Indianapolis at a place called Rene's Bakery. Now to find someone who wants to meet me there for breakfast on a morning when my husband can keep an eye on the little boys. I would still enjoy a trip to Paris, though.

When Saying Something Naughty, Spell it ... Correctly

Overheard this afternoon, at the lunch table:

Trevor: Oh my D-O-G!

Me: "Oh my Dog???"

Trevor: "No, Oh my G-O-O!"

Me: "Oh my Goo????"

Trevor: "No, Oh my G-O-D!"

Me: "Trevor James!! Don't take the Lord's name in vain! But do remember how to spell it correctly."

Disassociation

I don't know how the majority of people cope with life's stresses. Are there actually some who sail right through, without so much as hitting a snag? It is easy to convince myself that many other individuals cope far more adequately than I.

My modus operandi these days is intense disassociation. I know that I'm doing it. I want to stop and face whatever it is that is drawing me to the disassociation games, but instead I find myself on the same old, worn out, unproductive treadmill.

Every day, I think about all that needs to be done (or faced) and I flee into magazines (writing ones - it always seems to make me feel better when I am NOT writing, to read about the process of writing), books or naps. When I sit down to the computer, full of grand intentions of finally expressing what lurks inside, I cannot so much as uncork the bottle. Instead, I have played nearly one thousand games of Spider Solitaire. This makes no sense to me.

There was a time when my disassociation choice was Minesweeper. Years ago, I would play that game for hours on end. As soon as I completed and saw my best time, I would feel compelled to play again. After all, I might beat my best time and secure a new standard. That was always fun because I could type in some grandiose title, like "Wendy the Wickedly Wild Minesweeper Master."

In Spider Solitaire, there isn't really the great thrill of achieving your best score. You can try to minimize the number of cards required to complete all of the sets, but the score still lingers around 1195. I can't understand what drives me to click "Yes," when it asks if I want to play again.

Even the boys have noticed and begun asking why I'm always playing "that stupid game." Sometimes Trevor waxes truly flippant and says, with great irritation, "would you rather push me on the swing outside or play THAT STUPID GAME." Sadly, in my heart, I would rather play the stupid game. I just don't know why. What exactly am I running from?

Book Review: Over My Dead Body

I keep thinking, "when will Kate Klise ever run out of ideas for clever, cheesy puns?" Over My Dead Body is the second in the 43 Old Cemetery Road series written by Kate Klise and delightfully illustrated by her sister, Sarah Klise. These books, like the "Regarding the ..." series, are full of humorous puns, entertaining illustrations, absurd situations and disguised knowledge.

Mr. Dick Tater, director of the International Movement for the Safety & Protection Of Our Kids & Youth (IMSPOOKY), has received a tip that Seymour Hope is living in Ghastly, Illinois, "without the benefit of his parents." He decides he must intervene. Seymour ends up placed in the local orphanage, while I. B. Grumply (elderly writer who has been living in the old Spence Mansion with Seymour) is taken off to the Illinois Home for the Deranged (for claiming to be writing a book with the ghost of Olive C. Spence). Other characters involved in the story include: M. Balm, Judge Claire Voyant, Fay Tality, Mac Awbrah, Cliff Hanger and Shirley U. Jest.

I highly recommend both of the delightful series written and illustrated by the Klise sisters. With simple tales, heavy doses of kid-friendly illustrations, and generous smatterings of humor, these books are sure to appeal to children ages 9-13. For me, it was a light-hearted read when my brain couldn't handle anything more demanding.