Little Decisions & C.S. Lewis ~ March 2025

 

“Good and evil both increase at compound interest. That is why the little decisions you and I make every day are of such infinite importance. The smallest good act today is the capture of a strategic point from which, a few months later, you may be able to go on to victories you never dreamed of. An apparently trivial indulgence in lust or anger today is the loss of a ridge or railway line or bridgehead from which the enemy may launch an attack otherwise impossible.”

― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Have you ever read Mere Christianity?  I have not. 2nd Quarter Book list has a familiar face. What's on your bookshelf, to be read, or goodreads you've been putting off? 

 

Memory, Posessions, and What Really Matters ~~ October 2024

 My thoughts have been spurred in a uniquely challenging way after some reading in Joseph Pearce's fine biography of Alexander Solzhenitsyn:  Solzhenitsyn; A Soul in Exile.  

When beginning this book, I searched out a copy of The Gulag  Archipeligo , Solzhenitsyn's extensive and world influencing master work.  It is the record of  his own existence and survival of one of the most challenging efforts to extinguish an entire portion of civilization by one of the most completely corrupted dictators in all history. At a turning point in Solzhenitsyn's life, and thus in Pearce's record, it is noted that he remembered 12,000 lines of his own verse. He had no paper, and it would have been confiscated and he would have been punished for it anyway. This verse he painstakingly remembered would become one of, if not, the most impactful books to alter the course of human experience. This is no exaggeration. 

Censorship and fear had prevented the truth about the camps from being published, but this story made it into print. The USSR would never be the same again.

"We were absolutely isolated from information, and he started to open our eyes," remembers writer and journalist Vitaly Korotich.

Life in the camps was something "it was impossible even to think about" he says. "I read it and re-read it and I simply thought about how brave he was. We had a lot of writers but we never had such a brave writer."

 

Steve Rosenberg, BBC News, Moscow November,2012

Here is my first question: Given the choice, what would I choose to remember? What 12,000 lines of verse would I commit to memory if I had no way to write them down. Is there a thesis you are developing you would share with others about which you felt compelled to carry in your memory? What would it be. 

Second Question: What do you carry out when the water is washing away all of your earthly goods? What do you grab, if you have even a split second, what do you take with you. 

Thirdly, and for this post- last question: What really matters. Reading Solzhenitsyn's writing & speeches tells of his soul searching, what surfaced after seasons of learning, action, and discipline-- self imposed and that by others against his will. What really matters becomes clear when put to the test. Trivial falls away. 

I cannot recommend enough, Joseph Pearce's biography of Solzhenitsyn. 

I believe one must consider and understand what can happen when freedoms are dismissed when control over others is the goal.   Read 'A Day in the Life of Ivan Dinisovich.' And when you are ready for a true study, The Gulag Archipeligo. 

My first reading of A Soul in Exile, 2016, This post published Fall October 2024.

Teacher Man ~ Hillbilly Elegy ~ Bookshelf No. 10 ~ January 2021

It has been a particularly cold start to 2021. Yesterday, Debbie reminded me about the heroine of  The Nightingale and her perseverance against the elements in a particular harrowing part of the story. She asked if it were based upon a true story. I believe it is a compilation but very plausable. While staying in from the cold myself, I watched  again the movie, which is based upon the book of the same title, 'Angela's Ashes.' It is not an easy story. It is not a feel-good movie, even though the main character and author survives his childhood and upbringing, There is no way to paint the picture beautiful. But he tells it anyway and goes on to write two more books - Tis' and Teacher Man. I keep a copy of the latter on my shelf, although I've only listened to it. The author narrates it, and I wouldn't doubt if he also narrates in the movie 'Angela's Ashes.' His Irish accent with its lilt of resignation at the end of every sentence completes the story in an exceptionally profound way. I did not know about the books beyond Angela's Ashes, until Mom and Dad left their audio copy with me, with the disclaimer to 'not listen with the boys in the car.' My parents have notoriously listened to recorded books in the car on all of their outings. They would, and mom still does, take an extra lap on the way home from church just to finish a chapter. They also told me to skip a few chapters where Frank finds love in America. They are not one's to offer something without the full warning. 

Stories can remind us and can give us the metaphor we need to cope. Resilience in McCord’s books is an understatement- the narrator in the movie shares this about Frank McCourt's early life: "When I look back on my childhood, I wonder how m y brothers and I managed to survive at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood. The happy childhood is hardly worth telling. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood. And worse still is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.' 

When I read and watch stories such as Frank McCourt's, I think of his mother Angela, standing out of necessity in the greviously humiliating line for charity at the Society of Saint Vincent de Paul. Bitterness grew in her and escape from the culture was almost impossible, especially for a married woman. But this same situation caused his mother to take him to the school his teachers suggested he go, as he showed ‘real promise.’ Stories may share the tragic circumstances of  a phoenix like heroine, but they may also ask us to consider the greater impact of a determined soul.

 I am almost finished reading Hillbilly Elegy. Yesterday, a passage seemed pertinent in my accidental comparison of these two men. After surviving his own most challenging childhood, J.D. Vance describes Usha, a classmate while at Yale, for whom he 'fell hard.' He writes, 'I had never met anyone like her. ... Usha occupied an entirely different emotional universe. ... She instinctively understood the questions  I didn't even know to ask. .... I didn't know how the world worked. ... Usha's presence made me feel at home.' For all their perceived differences, it seems to me that what he found was someone trustworthy who saw things differently than he did. Vance’s life had been rescued in many ways before he met Usha, but that relationship would never have been possible if he hadn’t had others who gave him the gumption to ask questions and not settle for what life had dealt him.  McCord calls this necessary element ‘doggedness.’ From Teacher Man,  “Doggedness,’ he says, is “not as glamorous as ambition or talent or intellect or charm, but still the one thing that got me through the days and nights.”

I see many connections between these two stories. Both had a desire to tell their stories and were careful to share the affection they had for even those who had caused the most harm in their lives. I see specifically two strong women, one strong grandfather, who stood in the gap where others had failed, and in places where they themselves had failed. Gap-standing is a thankless job. I believe the authors didn’t want this to happen to the people who had made their lives possible. For me and every other reader, the story doesn’t stop blessing  within those who meet them personally. Because J.D. and Frank wrote their stories, I can know it is possible to move past literal and figurative ashes into worlds that only the imagination can sustain. When the darkest days in a surreal January can challenge a soul, it is good to know even the broken story can be redeemed. 

Winter 2021

This December 2020 and January 2021, I have been writing about books on my Bookshelf. Someday someone will be cleaning out my shelves, or at some point one might wonder why a books was worth the investment of time to read. So, I'll keep writing and sharing my Bookshelf. These are not book reviews, but more thoughts that have occurred to me when reading and reflecting during this period of time. If ever these are published, I'll go back and document specific quotes and footnotes, but that is for another day. For now I'm just sharing as though we're having coffee and I can't wait to talk about a good book. Links are often found on Amazon. I am not presently an active affiliate, but if this is so, I would receive a very small percentage of the sale for sending you their way. I like most of all to send you to Goldberry Books, an online  bookseller with a special brick and mortar bookshop in North Carolina. Not an affiliate, just a fan. They have the list for the Close Reads Podcast, among many other wonderful suggestions for reading. 

O' Henry and Jack London ~Bookshelf No. 9 ~ January 2021

 Upon the birth of our first son, my brother sent along a  'name-sake' book he selected to honor the occasion. My son, Jack,  is named for my grandfather, Jack Maison Woolf, and my husband's  Uncle Conrad 'Connie' Cebulski. But the book Drake selected was about another Jack altogether, represented well in,  Call of the Wild  by Jack London. While it would seem to some, a 'cute' gift, London was no stranger to either of Drake or myself. Our family has roots in Northern California where London, after many years of adventure, lived out his days. We have dear friends in Alaska, with whom, for a season, Drake lived and experienced a bit of the 'Last Frontier.' When we were both still  in high school, we visited my grandmother, Zada,  and Andy, the grandfather with whom I grew up, in Sonoma County, where she is now buried beside my Grandfather, Earl Freeman Bassett. He passed away when I was only a thought-- he knew I was to be born, but we never met. But South Dakota born Louis 'Andy' Anderson was a wonderful and loving husband to my grandmother in her last days in Napa .   He was the 8th grade educated -only- grandfather I knew, who once told me to get  'as much learning as I could, because it is the only thing they can't take away from  you.'  As many times as we could go back, we did. 

15 years old, Northern CA Coast

So we made the trek by train one Christmas across the country and through the Rockies to visit Grandma and Andy. While we were there, we ventured out to visit Wolf   House, the ruins of Jack London's home and final resting place of he and his  beloved mate, Charmian. 

Books tend to inform, shape our view of life. London's tend to inform, enlighten, and sometimes darken. His nihilistic view of life, and his perception of humans as 'just another species,' brought about some amazing stories, including, 'To Build a Fire.' But these stories do not enlighten one to see God but describe a limited view of the created man, seen not as a unique creature, but another soul-less animal among animals.  Adam Andrews said it best though. To understand nihilism, it is wise to ask a nihilist, and who better to read than Jack London. 

While I can see a handful of personal connections to the book, the best would be how well my son cuts to the marrow of an issue. He is not living in a state of denial and is like London, and every other young man, making his way in the wild of his day.  So this book still stands on the family bookshelf, in honor of his birth and in appreciation to the canon of Jack London. 

Our second son, Henry Robert, was named for his grandfather, Robert 'Papa  Bob' Sherman. As we, Eric and I, made our way to California for another return to the region of both of our families homeplace, we would determine the first name for our son to be Henry. We both just liked it. We both had no other name in mind at the time, and it just stuck. I thought of the book by O'Henry Dad had given me some years ago, which included the story of 'The Gift of the Magi.'  That story seems to resonate more clearly after more years of marriage than fewer. Caring and giving seem to grow sweeter after experiencing  years of togetherness in both struggle and success. Henry's arrival in our life came at a time when we thought we were a family of three. We did not know we were to gather up our own 'Red Chief' among the sunflowers and garlic from the Sacramento Valley. But this blondie blue-eyed boy would prove every bit of the story, 'The Randsom of Red Chief,' the humorous tale of a boy picked up by kidnappers who eventually bring him back. Henry has snuck and sneaked and generated quiet chaos since the day he was born.   'Benign neglect' and 'free range' approach to parenting became essential in raising Henry. His sense of independence and strong will have taken me to places I never dreamed I'd go, and continue to fuel the fire of our family  when even the kindling on the hearth is soaked. 

From my own text, O. Henry, Ransom of Red Chief 

So accidental as these 'name-sake' books may seem, I believe there is a providential essence to each. While Jack is not a nihilist, he seeks the very essence of everything that is found in the wild North West. He would have embraced the Gold Rush and camped by a fire in the wilderness, with a dog for his only companion. My Henry has been lost a million times to us (on the beach, at the park, at church...) but he has never been lost to himself. My little clove of garlic finds his way and persists as high as the sunflowers we saw as we drove away from the hospital with this new babe in tow. 

Yes, writers of books inform our souls, give us guiderails for our thoughts, enlighten our traditions, even across centuries and continents to calm and complete the persons we become.   I love seeing these books side by side on my bookshelf. I'm thankful and at peace when I think through the details of each uniquely designed child with their uniquely  created souls. The books that bear their names connect me to possibilities that I can layer with my life experiences, created by an author I've never met nor shall, save only through the literature they left behind.

 I'll take it. 

A Christmas Carol ~ Bookshelf No. 8 ~ December 2020

   Charles Dicken's backstory is one not to miss.  As he is widely  appreciated in literary circles, I won't try to retell his story, but will suggest one  considers it before dismissing him or his books. Not only do his books tell stories of unique and brilliant characters, they tell of what  may be our own future if we are to look closely enough. For there really is nothing new  'under the sun.' The stories may have different customs and styles, but there is the  constant thread of humanity, both the broken and the victorious and the choices his characters have made. 

According to the church calendar, it is the 5th day of  Christmas, 2020. While I do not officially follow that calendar, it is a point of reference I've begun to appreciate. After the hustle and bustle of pre-Christmas Day events, the world slows down,  and if you don't rush to put away your chotchkies and decorations, those representative lights can illuminate an almost lost opportunity to embrace some of the most beautiful traditions ever. 

Our little family is well acquainted with A Christmas Carol . Each year, we have either watched or read the story in part or whole. There are numerous cinematic offerings. My favorite is the 1931 black and white, but from trusted friends, I've heard the Muppet version is good also. I'll have to take their word for it. Not gonna happen. But my favorite scene is one Eric shared with our church family one Christmas Wednesday evening in Baton Rouge. Scrooge has just become aware of Marley's ghost and his presence has overtaken the room. Marley is a visage, but  to better understand  him, Scrooge invites him to sit, if he can. Like most of humanity, we don't understand what the after-life is really like and Scrooge is no exception. 

I will not argue Dicken's theology, but I'll use it as an example of what the human mind can understand. Our lives are not a pointless experiment, like Elton John once asked in song, in which we have no say.  Marley describes his 'traveling' after-life, with, 'no rest, no peace. Incessant torture of remorse.'... Holding  up his chain at arm's length, as if that were the cause of all its unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground again. 'At this time of year, I suffer most. Why did I walk through crowds of fellow- beings with my eyes  turned down, and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor abode? Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted me!' 

In the twilight minutes of 2020, we are blessed with the reset of a new year.  Llike most, I remember from the past few months a few 'paper-bag ' moments where the room wouldn't stop spinning, where everything felt lost and would never be recovered. I noticed this year, while watching  'It's a Wonderful Life,'  similarites to 'A Christmas Carol,' --the feeling of relief when what was familiar and beautiful came back into focus or was revealed a new, in the case of Scrooge, at the end of each story. 

Last year at this time, I was mid-year in a Life Mentoring class with Edie at Life In Grace. In bold letters across a journal, I wrote like all the other classmates, '2020 - Best Beautiful Year.' Yup. I did. What a joke-- or was it? Would I trade all that has happened? or the  transformation and growth that has come. I crossed through those seemingly bogus words at one point and wrote in the margins of my dream/ planning/journal I'd carefully curated, 'All is not lost, they(hopes) are still there, and they are good.' I don't know about you, but every fiber in my being was tested this year. Every nerve and synapse found places I didn't know existed. I found myself like Scrooge, facing the unknown on my knees with my hands in my pockets, reflecting and thoughtful,  desperate, wishing for the mortal, temporal rest in the comfortable, for the easy.  But easy doesn't create change or growth.  

'Reset' is a charged word these days. But a reset, like Dickens has offered to us is one I'll take.  Scrooges eyes are opened. And  I would assert like no other new years eve, my eyes have been opened too-- to the brokenness of my life and the world, but also again to the opportunities of victory as well. 'Do it scared,' has a whole new level of meaning. But as every generation who has gone before would agree, like it or not, the new year has come, and the choice is mine. What will I be reflecting on in a year? In many ways, it feels like we have no choice, but that isn't true. We do. We always do. 

My chalkboard Wall

Uninvited /The Best Yes/ Love Does ~ Bookshelf No. 6 ~ December 2020

 A few weeks ago I participated in a gathering of friends food and fellowship at Debbie's. We were to bring a book to swap. Hello. Yes, please. We were instructed to write a  brief 'teaser' passage on the wrapping without giving it away. I knew some of the group would be gardeners and foodies, so I selected    Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. I keep a handful of these, thrifted and like new books so I was ready to go. But this was after much deliberation. I also knew this crowd to be powerful mamas, and might appreciate another author that made a difference in my life at a challenging time. 

Our books all wrapped before the Swap

Dad passed away in September 4 years ago, and by December of that year, I was a hot mess. Loss and grief have a way of resurrecting old wounds, hurts you thought had turned into scars. But they weren't and I was what Dad often referred to as 'the walking wounded.' This came back to me hard this week when I learned of a teammate of Henry losing his mother  two days ago. Parent loss is.... ageless, timeless. Losing a loved one, as a dear sister said, is like losing a part of your hedgerow that blocks the winds on your heart. Weakened is an understatement for where I found myself. I was Christmas shopping with the boys and had stepped into Christian Books on Epps, before it closed, and saw  Uninvited, Living Loved When You Feel Less Than, Left Out, and Lonely by Lysa TerKeurst.  I snatched it up, paid the bill and forgot what else I'd needed to purchase(not an uncommon phenomenon in my life-purchasing books instead of milk, eggs, TP.) I'm pretty sure I ordered pizza, put the boys in front of 'Elf,' and read the entire book.  Some of the brokenness in my life heard passages anew such as Psalm 23. The Lord doesn't remove us from our hardship, but He prepares a table, He provides for us what we need in the moment. He does. Chapter titles like, ' Moving through the Desperate In-Between,' made sense to me. Considering how the enemy could use my weakened state to play upon my fear, this passage was highly marked up: 'The enemy loves to take our rejection and twist it into raw, irrational fear that  God really doesn't have a good plan for us. This fear is a corrupting companion. It replaces the truths we've trusted with hopeless lies. Satan knows what consumes us controls us. Therefore the more consumed we are with rejection, the more he can control our emotions. our thinking, and our actions.' 

Fast forward. Still thrifting books, I recently found Lysa TerKeurst next book, The Best Yes. I have since participated in therapeutic counseling as well as Life Coaching with  Edie Wadsworth at Life In Grace. So many things have happened in four years, but I've found investing in taking care of yourself mentally, as well as physically and spiritually, is crucial. On my chalkwall is largely written, 

'A Year From Now, You'll Wish You'd Started Today.' 

But what if you are in the midst of life and you don't know what you should start - or stop? And not to add any pressure, but often self-help books are written by highly accomplished women with businesses and ministries known world wide. So taking great caution with who I let into my head is important. There are a million people who will offer suggestions of ways to use your mind and talents, but being able to listen to God's voice along side intuition and make wise, informed decisions is priceless gift. I've mentioned before one of my favorite quotes from  The Best Yes:  

'You won't ever be able to keep up with unrealistic. 

Unrealistic demands lead to undercurrents of failure.' 

 This isn't the typical 'Obstacle is the way' type rhetoric you hear in the average motivational book. Yes, that book is great too! But what if you are burning out, and you really need to assess that to actually say yes to? 

Another favorite quote in Lysa's book comes from Bob Goff, from Love Does. 

'The world can make you think that love can be picked up at a garage sale or enveloped in a Hallmark card. But the kind of love that God created and demonstrated is a costly one because it involves sacrifice and presence. It's a love that operates more like a sign language than being spoken outright... The brand of love Jesus offers is... more about presence than understaking a project. It's a brand of love that doesn't just think about good things, or agree with them, or talk about them... Love Does.'

Can I just say- if you are suffering from 'analysis paralysis,' and want to get off that treadmill, Lysa is a good guide. She is not just another writer; she has walked some fearful paths unexpectedly and still found her 'Best Yes.' 

This season of Christmas is often filled with entirely too much choice over what to do and how we will spend our time. I'm exausted. Really. This year has been more than I can handle at times. But each time I reassess, regroup and consider what is really my 'best yes,' I'm better for it and my family benefits from the best version of me I can be. When I am more centered and aware, when the chaos of my people-pleasing ways goes away, I am able to be more present, be a presence for good, do in the most meaningful way. 

Hope Believes All Things ~ Bookshelf No. 5 ~ December 2020

   'I couldn't put words to it, but Swede, as usual, could.  

"Afraid we're being impertinent?" 

 "Yes." 

"Presumptuous? Arrogant? Blasphemous?" 

This still happens with Swede and me. I'll lack a word, and she'll dump out a bushel of them. 

  "You called Jonah a griper---"

"Well, you read about him. After the whale he goes to Nineveh and tells the pagans to repent or God'll burn them to death, and their cows too. So the pagans repent---- ashes and gunnysacks from the king on down! And you k now what Jonah does?" 

"No," I admitted. (R euben)  Actually, I thought the book ended when he got coughed up. 

'He mopes! He marches off in the desert and asks God to burn those pagans anyway, and their cows." 

"Well, that wouldn't be fair,"I said. 

"That's what  God said too, but Jonah sat there pouting. Lip out to here! He didn't want those pagans to repent; he wanted a barbecue." 

 

 I love this book, Peace Like A River by Leif Enger.    I love how Swede and her brother, the narrator, Reuben Land, sort things out, talking things over. They ask the big questions, reference timeless standards and stories, and come to their conclusions.  Until the next day  when they are faced with a new challenge, maybe bigger and more difficult than anything they might imagine. Their stories inform their souls then too. 

I don't believe 'books teach us lessons.' In a sense they do, or can but that's a distilled conclusion. A writer worth his salt sets out to tell a story that will convey what he or she knows to be worth telling, the remembrance they wish to share with their children or their community, shaping future generation's culture. Enger does this through the voices of Swede and Reuben. At one point Reuben reflects on Swede's perceptive observations: 

    "Well, we all hold history differently inside us. For Swede such episodes retold themselves into a seamless and momentous narrative; she had a Homeric grasp on the significance of events, and still does; one of her recent letters asks, Is it hubris to believe we all live epics? "

I heard a politician in our heated Georgia climate say yesterday, he had picked an unusual time to get into politics. Yes, yes he did. But there he is. How do we govern our hearts when we are called for 'such a time as this?' It's not for me today to assess him or his heart, but it is for me everyday to reflect on my own. While marking wrong doing and weighing matters of justice and right, it is the easy path to be swept up in the heat of the moment. Like Swede and Reuben, it is for us to wrestle with what we know to be true and stepping back to see a broader picture. 

A few years ago, a friend graciously asked me to attend the Kupendwa Ministries Dinner here in Athens. She was hosting a table and I was blessed, along with my friend Debbie who came with me. I saw Amy Washington,  the visionary,  and her family who have given their lives to 'the least of these.' I heard Bob Goff speak, the author of Love Does, Discover a Secretly Incredible LIfe in An Ordinary World. He spoke of an usual time in his life when he was presented with an opportunity and he had no idea from where the resources would come. His laughter and engagement was contagious! We laughed so hard and cried with him in joy over the success of the 'extraordinary ordinary' that he had seen manifested. 

I am also reflecting on passages like this from Lysa Terkeurst,  The Best Yes,  Making Wise Decisions in the Midst of Endless Demands.  

'You won't ever be able to keep up with unrealistic. Unrealistic demands lead to undercurrents of failure. So don't allow the unrealistic demands of others to march freely into your life. Resolve instead to make decisions based on what is realistic-- not on trying to earn the approval of or impress another." 

I would offer Swede's approach to synthesize what we know, instead of living by one slogan or mantra. I must be realistic about what I can do on my own. But I must lean into the unknown with faith and hope, like Bob and Amy, who have relied, like Lysa also, upon God and HIS miraculous power.  Swede and Reuben go on in their conversation to bring up others from the Old Testament who trusted boldly. 

Bold belief, bold hope leans into faith which leads to confidence (' a memory of success'.)* Realistic becomes empowered by informed faith and hope, and my worries calm down. I worry less about the wrong and focus on the right, and what the right can even do. My lack of confidence or lack of faith are empowered by what God can do, in my life and even in the life of those with whom I disagree, or worse- those on whom I might wish 'a barbeque.' 

Hope. Real, true Hope. 'Hope... believes all things.' 'Lord I believe, Help my unbelief.' 

What words do I live by? 

The Thrill of Hope ~ Bookshelf No. 4 ~ December 2020

Almost every Christmas, I pick up a book I've had my eye on and read it cover to cover, reading until I can't hold my eyes open, avoiding every  unnecesary task, praying no one will notice. This Christmas has brought me to a second title by Kristin Hannah, Winter Garden. It falls right in my favorite novel genre, historical fiction, specifically World War II. To me there is nothing more engaging   and encouraging than reading about the numerous resistance efforts throughout Europe,  the hope on both sides,  and the people who lived and endured the war between the Axis Powers and Allied Forces. 

Winter Garden moves slowly into the historic portion of the story. The main characters are living with someone who survived, but bears the results of living through such a time.  For-shadowing of a very layered story tells the reader, 'She hasn't enough of herself left to share.' And  in another part of the story (no spoiler's here), families of 'criminals,' 'can recognize other families of criminals. They move like victims, with their shoulders hunched and their eyes cast downward, trying to make themselves smaller, unremarkable. Unnoticeable.' 

Tragic is not a word I would ever use to describe my life. But in every persons life there are moments that are classically tragic in nature. The expectation and  hope are pitted against  mortal odds unsurmountable. This post is not a tale of 'done-me-wrongs ,' but relatable moments, without stories that cast a martyrial shadow. This one is more humorous. 

Eric and I became 'us' when we moved to Louisiana. We knew no one, and no one knew us. As much as we loved everything about Louisiana, I learned to be realistic there, make some compromises, and even drop my expectations. We learned to depend upon each other more fully, even if we didn't need to. My mind looks back to Uncle Mike meeting us in the Atlanta airport, because he could get through security in uniform, when we adopted Henry from California. Our family is ALWAYS there for us. Yet everyone has some dark passages that no one knows nor is it easy to share. The Lord only knows how much I would need resilience in future days, but I can most humorously  convey this with a story  about my church attire. 

I LOVE sweaters . Textiles, yes, but knitted cables,  the yarn, the feel of wool. Love is the only word. But wool and Louisiana do not mix.  Once while sweating through church, a kind sister told me afterwards to ,  'Give it up. Just buy you some Christmas Sandals and summer clothes in fall and winter colors and move on.' Best advice I think I've ever received. 

I have not spent all of my life in the South. I did a spell in Ohio, learning to appreciate snow, ice, and that cold which cannot be shaken. I learned how to skate on a pond, by myself in subzero weather. I wore long underwear to school from October to April, and we selected our Easter parkas just like my kindred sister from Louisiana  advised us to -- adapt, compromise,  have realistic expectations. But there was something about those sweaters, something in my psyche that insisted it was what one should wear, how one should prepare, what expectation, nee- advent- should look like. 

Within the book, Winter Garden, there are just such moments displayed in what seems to be senility, but the one challenged by change and true tragedy is remembering how to  cope and how to survive.  Her actions seem as crazy as wearing a wool sweater in 70 degree weather. She packs food in her overnight bag instead of clothes for the trip.  Her daughter finds packs of butter in her coat pockets. She's always concerned about the cold. And always concerned about food.  

This is my favorite period of history because so many faced what appear to be insurmountable odds. They are faced with starvation, exposure to the elements, and corruption in powerful places. They seldom know who they can trust, and they often suffer some loss that leaves them changed forever. I walk away wondering how would I survive,  measuring up my coping skills. Introspectively, considering my odds. 

Our collective challenges may not seem to look as dire as this on the outside, although 2020 has brought its 'A Game' to the table. But if you were to ask the average person today if they could relate to characters like these in the books, I'd bet they could easily blow your hair back. Those times do come, when something we hoped for doesn't happen, or happen the way we thought it should. That is life. Living fully, engaging with humanity. It would seem 2020  is the year so many find themselves, myself included, moving the bar back, moving the mark lower, when it comes to hopes and dreams. But the surprise has been to feel resilient-- and still feel off balance. 

A couple of years ago, a friend reminded me of good advice. She participates in the trapeze classes here locally- yes, she is boldly 60 years old and exercises with trapeze. But she reminded me as my world was spinning out of control-- 'Find a place on the wall and look for it every time-- find your point of focus.' She was right. Even when the hope is deferred, when they keep moving the goal post, finding that one thing and focusing is the way to survive. 

My reaction to reading this book at the half way point is two-fold. After one of the most tragic moments of revelation, the mother responds to her children when they ask what they should do? How they will go on? Her response is the epic. Live. Adapt, compromise,  have realistic expectations. This is where God feels our pleasure and delight in His creation. Live. Hope boldly with dreams and beliefs in what God has given to us- the blessings. 

Secondly, and most importantly, rely and depend upon the most miraculous Provider. When nothing seems possible, we are brought to our proverbial knees. It is then that the cosmic Christ is revealed from cradle to grave, the Father 'that sees' is beheld, and we are able to not 'lay aside the cares of this world' but handle them with a strength that comes from a supernatural and miraculous point of focus - God the Trinity. All of our messiness is doable, nothing cannot be handled by the One who began his mortal life in a manger found  in a dirty stable. And there is no wound or loss our God cannot heal with the never changing Hope He has set in our hearts- if only we will embrace it. 

Nativity from Jerusalem ~ Gift from Dad, 1996

Nothing to Envy ~ Bookshelf No. 3 ~ December 2020

 

This morning while I deep cleaned my dishwasher, rinsing all the awkward components in my sink with the broken faucet, I contemplated two passages from two unique books. I'll be as brief as I can, because the publisher is waiting, and the day must roll on. 

I probably heard about  this book, Nothing to Envy, Ordinary Lives in North Korea, on The Close Reads Podcast. While we read together books and are guided by the best guides about specific books, numbers of other excellent reads surface, stimulating constant research into the virtual and tangible stacks of libraries and bookstores everywhere. I digress. With constant discussion in the US about Communism and Socialistic ideas run amuck, this book jumped out and into my sanitized library hands. I like to pick books that relate, but are perhaps more parallel. Seeing an issue by looking at it from another perspective will shed alot of light where there might be sore spots, blind spots for the reader, the student, the citizen. For when I read passages like the following, I might hear one parallel, while another person, say a person of color in the US might hear another. This passage relates an interview with a defector to South Korea, over a lunch meeting. "I had asked Mi-ran to lunch in order to learn more about North Korea's school system. In the years before her defection, she had worked as a kindergarten teacher in a mining town. In South Korea she was working toward a graduate degree in education. It was a serious conversation, at times grim. The food on our table went uneaten as she described watching her five-and six year old pupils die of starvation. As her students were dying, she was supposed to teach them that they were blessed to be North Korean. Kim Il-sun, who ruled from the time the peninsula was severed at the end of the World War II until his death in 1994 was to be revered as a god, and Kim Jong-il, his son and successor, and the son of a god, a Christ -like figure, Mi-ran had become a harsh critic of the North Korean system of brainwashing." There will be no turning back in this book. Because the details are too vivid to pass by, and they touch on too many thoughts I have in the world in which I live. The local and the world at large. For even in the wealthiest counties in the United States, there are still children who age out of foster care, and there are still Veterans who come home from serving in the military who can't seem to get started. There are still orphans among us, and faucets still break. There are still persons of color who are treated wrongly because of their color, and there are still race-peddlers who prey upon the innocent and brain wash those same Image-bearers to believe they have no seat at any table. 

But this book isn't a 'pick - a - side' book. This story, collection of stories, about former North Koreans makes me think about the human spirit, Divinely created, that can learn to  appreciate a forced opportunity of utter darkness, a slower cadence and rhythm of life, one that the average consumer finds almost impossible to escape.  (And that same soul able to crave excellence and greatness...) Even if the individuals who are granted opportunity to tell their unique story  through this book, don't believe in their own Creator, which remains to be seen, I find passages found in devotion books of Scripture compelling in the parallel. From Grace ForThe Moment, collections by Max Lucado. 

 Take Jesus at His Word ~ When it comes to healing our spiritual condition, we don't have a chance. We might as well be told to pole-vault to the moon. We don't have what it takes to be healed. Our only hope is that God will do for us what he did for the man at Bethesda--that he will step out of the temple and step into our ward of hurt and helplessness. Which is exactly what He has done...I wish we would take Jesus at His word...When He says we're forgiven, let's unload the guilt. When He says we're valuable, let's believe Him... When He says we're provided for, let's stop worrying. God's efforts are strongest when our efforts are useless. 'In all these things we have full victory through God who showed His love for us.' Romans 8:37. 

Even in the midst of beauty and abundance, the voice of doubt will creep up, Screwtape, the evil-one. Fear, doubt, despair... But living in a world of brainwash is like a double dose of satan's lies. I wish we would take Him at His word. The only Source who can supply the answers and the spirit of victory is the Creator Himself. Whether the former North Koreans interviewed know or believe hasn't been revealed to me yet- but they have the revelation of the stars in the sky, as do we all. Last passage and the day must move along...

      "The night sky in North Korea is a sight to behold. It might be the most brilliant in Northeast Asia, the only place spared the coal dust, Gobi Desert sand, and carbon monoxide choking the rest of the continent. In the old days, North Korean factories contributed their share to the cloud cover, but no longer. No artificial lighting competes with the intensity of the stars etched into its sky..... Years later, when I asked the girl about the happiest memories of her life, she told me of those nights." 

 Nothing to Envy - Ordinary Lives in North Korea, by Barbara Demick 

'Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end. 

Ecclesiastes 3:11

 

Love Hopes All Things~ Bookshelf No. 2 ~December 2020

 In  March, I read  'The Secret Garden. ' While I   am well acquainted with Frances Hodgson Burnett's,  ' A Little Princess, ' I had never read the famous story of a secret garden. So I put myself to it, to be rewarded by such passages like this one  I stumbled upon again just  yesterday: 

 'I'll tell you who would put you in the humour, perhaps,' said Mary, reflecting. She felt as if she would like this to be settled one way or the other.  'I believe Dickon would. He's always talking about live things. He never talks about dead things or things that are ill. He's always looking up in the sky to watch birds flying - or looking down at the earth to see something growing. He has such round blue eyes and they are so wide open with looking about. And he laughs such a big laugh with his wide mouth - and his cheeks are as red - as red as cherries.'  She pulled her stool nearer to the sofa and her expression quite changed at the remembrance of the wide curving mouth and wide open eyes. 'See here,' she said. 'Don't let us talk about dying; I don't like it. Let us talk about living Let us talk and talk about Dickon. and then we will look at your pictures.' .... It was the best thing she could have said.' 

 Last year, I read along with a writing group, Stephen King's , 'On Writing; A Memoir of the Craft.' I have no need of any of his other books, and only one movie,  based upon one of his works of fiction, 'The Shawshank Redemption.' The story of Andy Dufresne, who is falsely accused of a murder and sentenced to life in Shawshank Penitentiary, delivers us an opportunity to meet 'Red' who is also a 'lifer.' Red shares in the story how he would guide his younger self, who made a poor choice,  suffering the exponentially awful consequence of  prison life in the 1950's. But his philosophy is one I hold sacred: 'Get busy living, or get busy dyin.'  Red and Dickon have much in common.  Red found ways to look for things to hope for, meaningful ways to keep himself occupied and invested himself in a safe group of friends and collegues. Dickon lived with his family in rowdy houseful of children, but found his way to a garden to work and make things beautiful, even without employment or even the ability to read. Meaningful work in a garden which is the epitome of hope. 

So today, I'll put up the Christmas tree. I'll finish the decorating and complete the tasks at hand. Our tree is one that Mom passed along to me- one now whose 'pre-lit' lights no longer work, but have been clipped and replaced with strands of white lights for each layer. I've narrowed down the ornaments to one  large box. I'll put a few strands of icicle lights on the outside of the house and we will embrace December looking  up to the stars and down to the dirt lying quietly until Spring returns. We will live with a confident hope that there is life worth living- and we will be busy living it. 

If you are Christmas shopping and books are on your list, I highly recommend Goldberry Books, and independent Bookshop, opened in November 2020~~ the essence of hope in 2020. A beautiful anniversary copy of 'The Secret Garden' illustrated by Tasha Tudor would be an amazing gift for someone special on your Christmas List. 

'Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things...' 

         

Spray Paint Might Save the World ~ Bookshelf No. 1 November 2020

  If we've never met, you may think I'm a bit shallow. But once you run back through a few posts, you'll  realize I'm not shallow, just layered. Picture the layers of the ancient city of Troy, Trojan horse and all. I  don't pretend to be as capable as many of my peers. But I have my skills, like-- I can see through a pile of fabric anywhere and spot the block printed French cotton a mile away. Yup. I'm a #wickedthrifter over at #littlebirdtextiles

So when I say,  spray  paint might save the world, take heed.   I was old(er) when I had kids, through adoption, and much like that, nothing has gone according to plan, in my unique universe, or in the world at large. And there is nothing a good dose of green (my preferred color) spray paint can't redeem.  For example, the basket from Goodwill that will hold a variety of things. It could have been trashed- yet, for .99, I have a new catch-all basket to make my activities more efficient as well as colorfully encouraging. 

Before you start to trip out on Goodwill--  I'm also a capitalist. Do you know the  cashiers at your Goodwill? I do. Somebody had a good idea. Donate stuff. Employ people to organize and shelve it. Sell it. 'But what about those bad folks up at the top who make the big paychecks?' Those folks are the risk takers who invest in the rehab of the big-box stores that nobody uses anymore(our local store was a Best Buy.) So now, the once empty big-box store employs folks who work hard. Often they are folks who might not find a job elsewhere. And you know the bonus? They actually have an employment office in the store. Dang. Can this get any better? While I didn't look at the yearly statement for this company, I don't lose sleep over it, because I know the lady who checked me out today, who often shares her happy experience with me, and she will receive a paycheck in a timely manner. And that was enough for me. I left with a .99 basket that is now green that will  hold my dishtowels(I have many green baskets), while I make brownies for my kids.  And I will think happy thoughts about the redeemed item that was not put into a landfill.  Yup. Even recycled.  And even more about the happy lady who has meaningful work. 

Sounds like a win-win to me.  #green #recycle  #community

Which of course leads me to a book. It would seem that such an insignificant experience might not be worth the recounting in such a jaded, confused time in our world. Yet, for literally centuries people have been waking to the same sunshine to decide how they will live out their day. I have a favorite author whose books don many of my shelves. Alexander McCall Smith. He is my go-to for book recommendations because he introduced me to Mme Precious Rmwatswe. I believe everyone should know her. She determined herself to be the proprietor of  The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency and therefore, Smith wrote at  least 15 books about her and her community. Her stories are filled with gentle appreciation for her modern culture in Africa, with a regular glance backward to her most noble father who is 'late,'(passed.) (My own introdueced me to these stories.<3) But one I found on my own after meeting her(and her writer) was of another unique period of time and is a stand alone worth every minute. La's Orchestra Saves the World,* asks exactly the question that every person must ask themselves when they wake each day. Is what I do really meaningful, does it matter, and consequently, do I matter. I love the action she undertakes to  move forward in an uncertain time. In a twist of irony, I have had a student who plays French horn, a featured instrument in the book, and a very unique instrument, one that if played well takes one to another level of orchestra and appreciation of the world of music. He, my student, is that type of person and is equal in exceptionality as the instrument of his choosing. His mother commented one day, after lesson number 595, about whether the  playing of the French horn really could save the world-- and I replied, I believed so. For it is is the learning by heart 'something' which trains our minds to seek excellence-- yes, to sense that traction of success, and therefore propels us to hope. And having hope is the essence of that which will truly save the world. 

The books I've mentioned have links to Goldberry Books, an independent bookstore in Concord, North Carolina. The proprietors have opened a brick and mortar store I can't wait to visit. Visit their link to support small business! Their opening in Fall 2020 is the definition of Hope! <3