Women I Would Love to Have a Book Club With

 My dream is to be a part of a book club. The kind where we read great books, discuss them and it all becomes more about the friendship we develop than the books. 

Here are 13 women I would love to have a book club with:

1. Anne Shirley - I don't think any fantasy discussion of books could exclude the woman I have spent countless hours in communion with. 

2. Queen Elizabeth II - sans the protocol. I would love to giggle the day away with this lady, and connect in the context of our faith and calling. 

3. My grandma Permenter - Bertha Permenter was born into a world of horse and buggy and died during the age of the internet. She was kind of a black sheep in our family but she was defined by the feeling of love and peace she exuded and nurtured in her relationships. I would love to be able to talk to her about life and love and what it means to follow Jesus.

4. Dolly Parton - I think she would bring a unique perspective, with a lot of love and light. 

5. June Carter - I find her fascinating. I would love to hear about what it felt like to be a legend in her own right, but ultimately live in the shadow of her husband and marriage. 

6. Abigail Adams - she held down the fort while her husband traveled around the country and world fighting for what he believed in. 

7. Priscilla, the wife of Aquila. I would love for her to teach me the way of God more perfectly. 

8. Catherine of Aragon - I would love to know what it felt like to be her, and how she retained her faith through the obstacles she faced. 

9. Tara Westover - I would love to compare notes and discuss the world with her. 

10. Monica Lewinsky - I wrote a paper about her in college, and I am fascinated by her ability to own her part in things, stand her ground and the way she lived through her public shaming. 

11. Mary Magdalene - I would love to hear her Jesus stories. 

12. Elizabeth Bennett - we share an affinity for laughter, and I would love to spend an afternoon people watching and giggling. 

13. Coretta Scott King - I admire her ability to being loving and forgiving in the face of horrifying circumstances. 

I think think would be the bookclub of dreams!

Who would you love to have a book club with?

Albums that Shaped Me

Music has been more than ear worms or something pleasant to listen to for me. It's been my closest friend and companion throughout my life. It kept me alive through some of my darkest moments, helped me celebrate at my highest points and changed my life. I got my first Walkman in first grade, from my grandparents. The next year they gave me my first boombox. It had a double tape deck. I spent hours in my room listening to music and fantasizing about friends. 

Here are ten albums from my childhood that represent pivotol moments for me: 

Amy Grant - Heart in Motion - My parents didn't buy us a lot of gifts. There was only one time that I remember receiving something close to a Christmas gift from them. Among the gifts from my parents was this album. I think my mom thought Amy Grant was a country artist. While I wouldn't classify this album as anything close to country, I loved it. I was about 10 when I received and I played it over and over. 

Anne Murray - Greatest Hits - This is the first album I remember feeling was mine. I was about 4. I lost it when I lent it to a friend and they dropped it in the street and a car ran over it. I vividly remember each song from the album and I've had a special effinity for Anne Murry's voice ever since. 

Garth Brooks - Ropin the Wind - This is the only album on this list that I recall actually buying. My mom bought me the cd from Costco when I was about 9. I didn't have a cd player and I'd never seen a cd before. When we realized it was a cd and not a tape, we returned it and went to Walmart to get the tape. I became obsessed with Garth Brooks for a couple of years. I'm still a fan, but I would describe my fandom as less obsessed. 

Floyd Kramer - All Time Country Favorites - This is a weird one. The same grandmother who bought me the Walkman and boombox gave me this album. I received a lot of music gifts from her. I appreciate it because it was often music that I wouldn't have listened to without the gift. Doyle Lawson and Quicksilver, Paul Overstreet, Suzy McEntire (Reba's sister) are all artists I became a fan of based on her buying me an album they put out. Floyd Kramer is also one of these. I listened to and enjoyed this album as much as I enjoyed any of the others. 

Elvis Presley - Jailhouse Rock Soundtrack - This one was hard to nail down, but I could not possibly make a list like this without including something from Elvis. From about 10 until 15 I was a huge Elvis fan. My walls were covered in pictures of him. I discovered him one night around his birthday when some cable channel was doing an Elvis movie marathon. My mom had grown up watching Elvis movies and listening to his music, so she was watching. I watched with her, and continued watching well after she went to bed. The first movie I saw was Jailhouse Rock . . . and that sparked a lifetime love of Elvis. I collected Elvis stuff for a few years. I don't anymore. I still enjoy his music, but you probably couldn't tell that by coming to my house. I don't have Elvis pictures taped to my walls anymore. I enjoy his music, but that's about it. I didn't watch the Elvis movie that was released a few years ago, because it would just make me sad. I stopped listening to his music for a while because I hated enjoying something that essentially ended up ruining his life and the lives of his child and grandchild. 

His Image - Made in His Image - This was actually my parents album . . . but I commandeered it. It is an early group that Keith Lancaster put together. I had never actually heard of the group Acappella until I married my husband. I listened to this album over and over and it kind of sparked a love of gospel quartets. That love led me down the road to Southern Gospel music which took over my teenage years. My grandma (the one who gave me albums, a walkman and boombox) took me to see southern gospel quartets live. I got to see JD Sumner in person once. I still enjoy this album.

Linda Ronstadt - Livin in the USA - This was also my parents album. I had never heard them listen to it. I discovered it in their closet while I was snooping. We had a record player in our living room, so I listened to it. I had to stand on a box to use the record player and I would stand on that box and belt out each song on this album, until my parents got tired of it and moved the record player to my room. I still love it and listen to it. I've had other albums and I particularly love what she did with Dolly Parton and Emmylou Harris. 

The Beatles - Meet the Beatles - This was another one that was hard to pin down. My love of Elvis led me to listen to "oldies" stations where I developed a love of The Beatles, Herman's Hermits, The Rolling Stones, Janis Joplin, Bob Dylan, The Supremes, the Four Seasons, Frank Sinatra, Johnny Cash,  etc. The first song I remember loving though was I Want to Hold Your Hand. So I chose this album to represent my love of the Beatles. I loved the Beatles as much as I loved Elvis. I. was. obsessed. Michael and I had Here Comes the Sun in our wedding. I still enjoy the music. I really loved Get Back - the documentary they released a couple of years ago. 

The Glad Tidings Quartet - I don't have a picture for this one or an album name. It was an acappella, southern gospel-ish gospel quartet. They did really fun songs and I loved being able to pick out the alto part and sing along. I recently got my hands on an Mp3 version of the album.

Sweet Deliverence - Especially For You - This was another album I discovered in my parents closet, along with the Linda Ronstadt one. I also commandeered this one. I still have it and listen to it. 

What I'm Reading

The first chapter book I remember reading on purpose and without malice was A Woman Named Damaris by Janette Oke when I was 8. I read the entire book in one night - huddled in my closet with my lamp, until the wee hours of the morning.

After that day, I devoured books. One after the other. Quickly. I would run out of new books and read the Anne of Green Gables series and the Little House books over and over and over.

As a young mom, I stopped reading fiction books. I became so engrossed in them that it was hard to put them down and I neglected other things.

And then my life just got so busy that it seemed like I couldn't concentrate on a book. I tried several and couldn't finish them.

Earlier this year, as we've felt led to simplify our life, I've picked up a few and was reminded of why I loved it to start with.

I love character driven stories that are more about the people than the plot. A good plot is nice too, but I want to know who the people are, why they do what they do.

I love nonfiction books and I've gained so much insight by reading spiritual books. But I feel like my head is so full of all of that. I constantly feel the need to improve myself, I want to always be growing. I've been in overdrive for about 10 years now, as far as all of that is concerned, and I feel the need to rest. Not relapse or "backslide", just rest.

Anyway, at the beginning of the year I set the goal to read 12 fiction books. I read 3 by February and then life got SUPER busy and I didn't pick up another one until about a week ago. I'm currently on book 5. I have 8 books read in the next 2.5 months in order to meet my goal.

Here's what I've read so far:

Gray Mountain by John Grisham (for some reason I like John Grisham when I am having to drive on road trips)

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah

The Clockmakers Daughter by Kate Morton<

Here's what I'm reading now:

The Lost Girls of Paris by Pam Jenoff (So far this is only okay, good enough to finish...not sure I'll recommend)

What I plan to read over the next 2.5 months:

1: My Dear Hamilton by Stephanie Dray

2: The Alice Network by Kate Quinn

3: The Huntress by Kate Quinn

4: America's First Daughter by Stephanie Dray

5: Beneath a Scarlet Sky by Mark T. Sullivan

6: The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah

7: The Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman

8: Varina by Charles Frazier

What have you been reading?

Dickens in Exodus 14

Standing outside a door. Cold. Rain.

Stomach churns. Lips and fingers succumb to the piercing cold . . . lose feeling and color.

On the other side of the door is manna and warmth. The picture so vivid I taste and feel it.

 I lift my fist to knock, but stop.

I can't knock again. I've knocked so many times.

But here I am. Cold and wet and hungry. Afraid to knock.

A gust of wind engulfs me, I fall into the door. It opens.

Light and warmth possess me. Strong arms lift me into the shelter I couldn't find words or strength to ask for.

Warm soup brings life to my freezing body. I lay by the fire and drift to sleep.

Guilt and shame threaten to engulf me.

"the Lord will fight for you, you need only be still" are lyrics to the song of the fire.

Fingers find the page where the words appear.

Israelites. Egyptians. Complaining. Not trusting.

They hadn't knocked either. They stood at the door complaining. But it opened anyway.

His people. Covenant sealed with blood. He kept His end, one-sided faithfulness.

After all this time, I still assume God will abandon when humans do. When I do.

He never does. Never.

I can try and strive and fail a million times, and still end up having to rely on Him. Or I can surrender and rest and rely in the first place.

It ends the same way, no matter how I get there.

Guilt and shame fade. I relinquish to rest.

Until the next time I decide it all depends on me, and I need to get to work.

Drowning and Letting Go

I swim in open water. Deep. Dark. I pray.

Desperately I scan the horizon for a sign, a marker, something to indicate this won't last forever. Endless ocean fills my visage. I pray.

My arms are filled with precious things. Good things. Beautiful things. I pray.

I kick my legs furiously, but my arms are full and the water is tempestuous and . . . I choke and bob and gasp for air. I pray.

I fight the panic that threatens to ensue. I pray.

I hear a voice . . . let it go. 

I contemplate releasing the precious, good and beautiful things that impair my ability to navigate the deep and choppy waters. But the people around me tell me to hold on and kick more efficiently. They can't see that my lungs are full of water, so I hold on and kick my legs harder. 

I am asked what's wrong with me, why I can't keep up...but I am unable to even take a breath without filling my lungs with water...and I can't form a thought or speak a word asking for help. 

I fear. Will my relationships survive me letting go? 

So I kick harder. I hold on to the precious, good and beautiful things tighter. I pray. 

I hear a voice . . . let. it. go.

There is no amount of work that I put in, no amount of attitude changes or silent prayers said, that decreases the amount of water entering my lungs. I hear voices asking what I need and how they can help me...but I can't take a breath . . . and I certainly can't speak. I'm too busy trying to survive to be able to form a coherent thought. I pray.

I hear a voice . . . LET. IT. GO. 

My head spends more and more time under the water, until it is consumed by it. 

As I sink lower and lower and lower into the depths, I am about to die. I pray. And I hear a voice . . . 

LET IT GO!

So I release one of the good, precious and beautiful things . . . but I continue to sink. So . . . I release it all. As I watch them float away, I wave my arms, kick my legs and am drawn closer and closer to the surface.

I can't breath yet. But there is hope. 

I let it go. 

Life With Teenagers

Every stage of motherhood has been grueling.

At no time have I felt "together".

I am asked for parenting advice fairly often and the truth is...I don't have any. I still feel unqualified to give it. I have good kids and I am unsure of what part I have played in that. I think it's more likely that I have contributed to whatever it is they struggle with than that I have had much positive impact on their "goodness".

Every stage has been a surprise in one way or another. The baby and toddler years are talked about a lot. Sharing horrifying poop stories is a mother bonding experience. We all know that the mother of several babies and toddlers is tired. When I see a mom with a screaming kid in Wal-Mart, I feel her pain.

I read an article a while back about how parenting teens is a lonely business, and it resonated with me. I'm not going to link to a specific one, I just googled it and there are a lot. If you want to read them, I'll let you do the choosing.

There's a lot of information about dealing with bad attitudes from teens, but what I am most surprised by is the loneliness. The poop stories have evolved into much more serious and potentially life altering stories. And while the poop stories were MY stories to tell, the more evolved, serious, potentially life altering stories aren't just my stories and they are harder to tell.

And the busyness. Oh, the busyness. I feel as though people don't believe me when I talk about this. But I leave the house at 7 am and I don't usually get home until around 9 or later on any weeknight. So we eat dinner at 9 or 9:30 really frequently, and we eat fast food way too often because nobody feels like cooking or cleaning up the mess. And homework has to be done, showers have to be taken.

It's hard to maintain contact and friendships. As hard as it was to connect during the young kid years, it's harder now. I wish I had built strong bonds with other moms who had kids my kids age when they were little, so that now I would have those relationships to fall back on. Other moms who feel the need to meet for coffee at 11pm because that's the only time not already spoken for. Moms whose stories have also evolved into more serious, potentially life altering and harder to tell stories.

I'm not complaining. It is lonely but these are also amazing days. Days where I get to live life with these crazy, good kids. As busy as we are, I am thankful that we haven't experienced a lot of the shutdown in communication that it seems a lot of families experience during these years.

These are good years, and I love them and I want to drink up every moment.

But they are lonely. And I wanted to acknowledge that.

Expressing My Gift for the Sake of the One Who Gave It

My flesh defines my success by how many people follow me, who likes my blog page, how many people share my work and whether I can earn a living by doing it.

By all of those definitions I am a nobody. Definitely not a writer, speaker or teacher.

I get so caught up in all of that. I assume that if this is truly what God wants me to be doing that he will somehow grant me success, as defined above. The thing is, He never has. I've been writing for over 12 years and I don't have a huge following. I've never written a book and no publishers are knocking on my door to ask me to. I don't have any speaking appointments and I only teach on the rare occasion when my own kids are my captive audience.

Somehow, I think that all of this writing has really just been to teach me that there is value in my gift, regardless of how other people accept or reject it. God has given me a gift and it's okay if he's the only one that approves of it.

I listened to a podcast tonight and the speaker shared that they had stopped reading their own book reviews because they had learned that sharing their writing wasn't really about who liked it, who understood it and who didn't.

I've been contemplating how I can accomplish my own version of that.

I've joined websites and read articles about how to grow my platform. And every one of them has said that what I am about to tell you is my new norm, is wrong. That I should be doing this whole list of things to grow my blog. But I'm not going to do that.

No boosting Facebook posts. No checking my stats to see how many people have visited my website. I am just going to share when and what I feel led to share. If God is the only one who reads it, so be it.

I am going to express my gift of creativity to and for the one who gave it.