Sunbeams bounce off the stack of book beckoning dust particles to flight
and announcing the passing of a day.
My son has arisen from his virus-induced stupor and occupies himself with homework
of days gone by.
of the sun
and all that is compressed between east and west
is a day in the life.
At day’s end, we could write a daily memoir.
I suppose that really is what a diary or a journal compiles.
I imagine most people wouldn’t consider their lives interesting enough
for public consumption.
Yet aren’t we curious about other people’s lives and thoughts?
Memoirs give us that “fly on the wall” experience.
Memoirs have become one of my favorite genres to read.
The books picture at the top of this page are ones I grabbed
from my shelves and baskets.
It is by no means an exhaustive list but books which have
knitted themselves deep into my soul.
(I am just now remembering I forgot Cold Tangerines.)
Click the book title link for synopsis information.
Below each title will be my brief attempt to explain why
the book is found on my stack.
I remember early marriage and parenthood. I remember trying to
figure out that delicate balance of trying to do it all, carve out an
identity and stay close to God.
Reading this book took me back to that time and even now, I still
try to juggle it all with less flexible hands. I am a sucker for someone
who is sweet on the Benedictine monks and likes to hang out with them.
This book reminded me of the joy of realizing the God you fear
is hiding is simply waiting to be found.
Lauren Winner was raised by a Jewish father and a lapsed Southern Baptist mother.
She became an Orthodox Jew.
This memoir is about how she became a Christian.
My Christian make-up has looked different over the years.
Perhaps depending on what
church I was attending.
At times, I have felt an outsider.
Other times, I have felt I had to be separate.
Although Lauren Winner and I have very different religious experiences,
reading this book gave me freedom to grab back practices
I mistakenly felt I needed to abandon.
Truly I want my faith to look like God and not a church.
This was the first book that blew open the door to
being real in matters of faith.
Anne was everything that this good girl was not and was
too afraid to admit,
I was only a whisper away from being not so good.
I don’t think I have read any of her books without nodding and
“uhuh-ing” and laughing.
She helped me see all of life as a sacred hilarious faith walk.
She prodded me to pay attention long enough to see God
right there in the midst of the most simple things.
When faced with the mundane,
I am confronted with the Holy.
(P.S. I dragged Carl to a reading years ago to hear
Anne and we laughed ourselves silly.
I was 10 years late to the party for this book but right on time for me.
If Anne Lamott opened the door to thinking about faith from a different
Donald Miller thrust back the hangar door.
I am not sure I can adequately describe why this book had
such an impact other than I read it quickly,
I didn’t underline much because of the speed.
It was page after to page of confirmation
of my thoughts about faith.
I didn’t know that in less than a month after reading this book,
we would be leaving our church and would land in the church
he helped plant.
This book helped me to remain in church.
It is always hard to pick a favorite but if I did,
it would be An Altar in the World.
If the last two books, gave me permission to ask
questions and to think differently about faith.
This book was the one which wrapped its paper
arms around me and showed me my reflection.
So much of this blog is about paying attention
and striving to see the spiritual in the natural.
Barbara Brown Taylor declared from every
page, “Me too, Helen. Me too.”
If you have ever been a chronic rule follower, a perfectionist,
or someone who felt they could obey well enough to earn God’s
love, you will speed through these pages.
I cringed for the girl I have been and the woman who still wants to
be good enough for God.
God is not armed with a measuring stick.
He is all grace.
My friend Paige and I have a long distance book club. We send
each other books we love, in hopes of the gift of shared book affection.
Paige sent me Tattoos and I was riveted.
Gregory Boyle began a gang-intervention program in Los Angeles called
Homeboy Industries. The stories chronicled in this book will break
your heart and deposit hope into your soul.
I was reminded what a difference extending compassion rather than
judgment can make in another person’s life.
Thank you Paige!
Sometimes books are just made for dreaming.
I can only dream that my mother and I would be able to take
several trips to Greece, Turkey and France.
But Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter Ann Kidd Taylor didn’t
dream, they lived the experience and documented it.
Perhaps this book also possessed a piece of reality as Sue
was turning 50 and so was I.
Her daughter was 21 and so was one of mine.
It was a glimpse inside both women’s attempts to grapple with
these milestone ages and their relationship now as adults.
If you have read The Secret Life of Bees, this books hints
of those buzzing bees to come.
If you just like to read about travel with a mixture of some
mysticism, I know you will enjoy this book.
Three days absence= one long post
More shorter posts on the way this week.
Hooray for memoirs.
What’s your favorite memoir?
This post is apart of the 31 days…yet again series
about books. You can find the entire series here.