Thanks for the books

I always have a book or two or seven, simmering on the nightstand. I’m thankful that between my public library, my library at work, my Kindle, my Amazon and eBay accounts, and various used book websites, I have access to pretty much any book I can think of, practically as soon as I can think of it. Books, baby!!

Thanks for Libby

You may be familiar with the app Libby, which is basically a rebranded/simplified version of its parent service Overdrive, which partners with libraries to lend ebooks to library patrons.

A few years ago I got Ida a Kindle Paperwhite. Then I got myself one. Then I got Theo one... Lars is currently trying to earn one by reading through a stack of assigned books. 😇  (He didn’t used to be a reader, but I lured him into it this spring with a combination of Harry Potter on audiobook + the magic of the Kindle.)

I LOVE my Kindle and use it all the time to read library books through Libby. When I’m not reading on the Kindle, I am often listening to an audiobook on the Libby app. I love to read, but it is sometimes not super convenient to read. The pandemic got me back to a quantity/frequency of fiction reading that I don’t think I’ve been at since high school. I’m grateful for the technology that keeps me reading—like real reading, not just scrolling my phone reading—almost every day.

Thanks for the re-reads.

I just finished this book... for the third or perhaps fourth time... and loved it all over again. I just love Nancy E. Turner and have read all of her books at least two or three times (except for her latest venture, Light Changes Everything, which I am sorry to say was riddled with plot holes, and I did not finish it. Quite the departure!). 

But anyway she has a way with words, and I love learning history from novels, and I have reread all of her books in this pandemic year. (I also reread a few Little House books, and I’m sure some Betsy-Tacy rereads are in my pandemic future as well.) Nancy E. Turner = comfort reads for me. This one paired especially well today with Reese’s peanut butter cups, my comfort candy, of which I have aplenty this post-Halloween season because my kids don’t like them (?!?!).

"Is there room for one more?"

As the pandemic marches on, I have this weird over-stuffed feeling in my head. I've been:

-Watching shows (soap operas and historical romances preferred. Re-watching is welcome)

-Reading novels (mysteries and historical romances preferred. Re-reading is welcome)

-Reading articles (mostly about racism or politics or racism in politics)

-Listening to podcasts (mostly about politics or racism or politics in racism) 

My brain feels a little like my stomach does at the end of Thanksgiving Day, when I serve myself up yet another piece of pecan pie with whipped cream just because I want to and my stomach is made out of something stretchy, right? 

How much is too much?? I have never, NEVER read this many books in such a short span of time, not as an adult anyway. It's not like I have more time than before. I guess I'm more motivated so I just make it happen. Also, audiobooks and podcasts are really easy to multitask with. The shows and novels are helping me escape, and the articles and podcasts are helping me learn.

People always tease me for putting out a salad on Thanksgiving because it's basically left untouched, but I needed a "salad" (aka brain fiber) at this "Thanksgiving" (aka pandemic binge-read-watch-listen-fest) so I have been trying to read and discuss scriptures with my kids more. This week we have been doing pretty well with it, usually reading and discussing over dinner. I still feel over-stuffed but I am just trying to make my "stomach" AKA brain expand, because it is craving the escape and the learning and, so it seems, the spiritual and communal boost. Phew, this metaphor is getting elaborate and confusing.

Now, that first season of Nashville isn't going to re-watch itself, so if you'll excuse me.

What shall I give my mother for her birthday?

Today is my mom's birthday!

You may or may not know that she is the Birthday Queen. She remembers everyone's birthdays. I am sad because I was supposed to be with her in Oregon today. Lars and I had planned to fly out for my nephew Henry's mission farewell, and we were all going to stay together in an AirBnB. Obviously that was canceled. BOO.

So I ask myself. What shall I give my mother for her birthday?




She knows I would give her a BIG BIRTHDAY BEAR HUG if I could. I suppose she will need to settle for the group gift of fancy sheets that we all chipped in on. And a Zoom call later today! I love you so much, Mom!

Searching for Sunday

Time for another book review! I loved Searching for Sunday by Rachel Held Evans. I loved Rachel Held Evans. I still feel sad that the world has lost her voice.

***

Over the years I have read articles here and there by Rachel Held Evans. I particularly loved her thoughts on abortion (she is politically progressive but largely pro-life, as am I). And I loved her thoughts on doubt and faith and patience and persistence. I fully agree with her advocacy for inclusion and equality, her self-identification as a feminist and an LGBTQ ally, and her exploration of how to improve inclusion and equality to the point that every believer feels safe at church.

She and I were almost exactly the same age, and we married our college sweethearts near the same time, and although I am an active Latter-day Saint and she grew up in the evangelical tradition which she eventually left to become a (mostly) Episcopalian, we had very similar experiences as active church-going teenagers. (I loved her description of multi-regional church youth activities as an "introvert's nightmare." I did actually love church youth activities in the '90s, but I don't think I could handle them now!)

When I heard that Rachel had suddenly died, I felt so sad that we wouldn't hear any more from this dynamic voice, and I began to read this book, which was perhaps her seminal work. It took me a few weeks, and it is dense, but I loved it. I connected to her journey and to the depth of her searching. I loved her explorations of Bible stories and history, various scriptural translations, and potential motivations for the characters' actions. I loved her framing of her thoughts amid "seven sacraments," particularly her thoughts on the Eucharist (or as I call it in my tradition, the sacrament) and on marriage. I closed "Searching for Sunday" after the final page feeling inspired to continue pressing on in my faith and my relationships, to study more closely the life of Jesus Christ, and to keep seeking no matter what.

A few quotes (I highlighted so many it got ridiculous after a while, so this is just a sampling):

About her husband: "Dan is the son of a former pastor, and his parents divorced when he was a teenager, which is about all you need to know to understand why Dan didn't get freaked out over a little religious turmoil. He moved through the world with the patient maturity of someone who'd already had his expectations adjusted, who already knew that faith was something you took a day at a time, no something you figured out at the start."

"All the beliefs I struggled with during the week were taken for granted on Sunday morning, accepted as self-evident fact. This made my own misalignment all the more pronounced. Around me, people nodded their heads and raised their hands and murmured "amen," while I raged internally at their confidence, their blithe acceptance of the very doctrines that kept me awake night after night. I was surrounded by the people who knew and loved me best in the world, and yet it was the loneliest hour of my week. I felt like an interloper, a fake."

"I realized that just as I sat in church with my doubt, there were those sitting in church with their sexuality, their race, their gender, their depression, their addiction, their questions, their fears, their past, their infertility, their eating disorder, their diagnosis, their missed rent, their mess of a marriage, their sins, their shame--all the things that follow us to church on Sunday morning but we dare not name."

"I'm a Christian because Christianity names and addresses sin. It acknowledges the reality that the evil we observe in the world is also present within ourselves. It tells the truth about the human condition--that we're not okay." (this was my favorite quote)

"So many of our sins begin with fear--fear of disappointment, fear of rejection, fear of failure, fear of death, fear of obscurity. Cynicism may seem a mild transgression, but it is a patient predator that suffocates hope, slowly, over many years, like the honey mushroom which forces itself between the bark and sapwood of a tree and over decades is strangled to death." (second favorite)

"Ours is a culture of achievement, of sufficiency, of bootstrap-pulling and ladder climbing. We celebrate the winners, the leaders, the do-it-yourselfers. Like any good American, I like to wait until I think I've earned. I like to wait until I think I've deserved. With giving, I can maintain some sense of power, some illusion of control. But receiving means the gig is up. Receiving means I'm not the boss of what comes into life--be it trial or trouble or unmerited good."

I wholeheartedly recommend this book to anyone who has experienced doubt, who knows more doubt is coming, who believes in the necessity of doubt, and who despite that repeated pull toward doubt is also committed to the triumph of faith, hope, and love. 

How to raise an adult

It occurred to me that I could mine my Goodreads reviews for the days (like today) when I don't know what to write about. I read How to Raise an Adult by Julie Lythcott-Haims a year ago. At first I thought the book wasn't super applicable to me, since I am not exorbitantly wealthy, and I am not particularly planning to try to send my kids to Ivy League schools. On the other hand, I live in an area with a robust public school system where many kids do make it to top schools, and two of my kids are on the "advanced academic" track in their elementary school, where, if you eavesdrop at the parent-information meetings, you might wonder if this is high school or if we're really talking about 9-year-olds.

I have thought about what success is going to mean for all of my kids, since they all have different abilities and different goals. Matt and I have always encouraged independence in the kids--they were making their own lunches almost as soon as they knew how to eat them--but I can pinpoint the exact day when this philosophy took root. When I was very pregnant with Polly, we were heading to a restaurant in an unfamiliar neighborhood to eat dinner. We parked on the street across from the restaurant, and as Matt and I, Ida and Lars in hand, waited to cross, Theo darted out right in front of an oncoming car, and the driver slammed on the brakes, narrowly missing him.

Theo was 8 years old. I was shocked that my 8-year-old, with whom I had spent years reciting "Look both ways," did not in fact "look both ways" when it counted. I realized (once my heart slowed back down) that he really had no experience crossing streets all by himself and the only way he would learn the danger would be to face the danger on his own. The very next day, I sent him to walk to school by himself for the first time. This was huge for me. There's no crossing guard, and there's a bit of a blind hill. I held my breath, watching through the window from a block away, while he slowly looked left, slowly looked right, and safely crossed. I collapsed onto the couch in agony and Matt observed, "Wait until it's time for him to drive a car."

Anyway, here was my review.

***

April 8, 2019

This took me a few months to get through, mainly because I was reading multiple books at the same time. I loved it—and not just because I went into it already agreeing with her parenting approach of letting kids succeed and fail on their own. (Matt asked me “is your hand tired from patting yourself on the back so much?”)

Yes, my kids are super independent compared to some of their peers, and always have been, but I actually feel a little uncomfortable about it sometimes, because I don’t want other parents, or teachers or coaches, to think I’m being lazy, or worse, neglectful. For example, for numerous reasons, the most important of which is to build her independence and confidence, my 10-year-old daughter rides her bike to soccer practice twice a week. After a few weeks, another mom on the team texted me and said she’d be happy to drive her. It was nice of her, but I was somehow mortified.

Why do I feel that way? As long as I think I’m doing right by my kids, that should be what matters. But I am hard on myself anyway. I think in part because one of my kids has special needs and serious executive functioning issues, I struggle a bit with how much to step in and how much to let him suffer natural consequences.

One thing I particularly loved was the author’s recommendation to encourage kids to get to know faculty in high school and college—taking advantage of office hours, for example, and finding their own academic mentors. I remember my sophomore-ish year in college, I needed a faculty recommendation for a program I was applying to. I asked one of my professors, who refused because she said she didn’t know me well enough. I never forgot that, and I purposely went to office hours and interacted more with my professors from then on.

My own parents, who had 6 kids to worry about, raised us all to be independent, and they didn’t particularly encourage or forbid any extracurricular activities (other than piano and church, which were required). They restricted TV and encouraged books. I’m terrible at all sports, and I was a B+ average student particularly in college. But I roller-skated and biked all over town; and I read a million books; and I went to college; and I have 5 built-in friends in my siblings; and I always knew I was loved; and I’ll never stop being grateful for any of that.

***

P.S. It's funny how normal it was for Ida to ride her bike to soccer practice and swim practice a year ago, and how much I long for her to have a place to ride her bike to now! Our swim team season was just officially canceled. I'm not surprised at all, just a little sad. Northern Virginia is still far from being open--the state of Virginia is starting "phase one" of re-opening this week, but our county and the surrounding counties will not be on the same timetable--and I do feel a little adrift in my parenting. For the first time I think I understand why parents might not have felt safe in normal times, sending their 10-year-olds out alone. My kids still want to go out alone ("out" meaning beyond our neighborhood, which they always did pre-pandemic), but I wonder if someone will lecture them, or think their parents don't know where they are, or worst of all feel unsafe themselves seeing them. Anyway, just thinking about that and wondering when I'll feel OK about letting them go play out of my sight again. Sooner than later, I hope.

Thanks for all the books.

I have always loved reading, and when I was a kid I constantly had my face in a book. That’s how Ida is now, and I couldn’t be prouder! Not even when I’m slightly annoyed that she’s abandoned all other pursuits, including her assigned chores. ;)

As I’ve gotten older I’ve made less and less time for real reading. But I still love escaping into a good story. (I mean, as long as I’m escaping, it might as well be into a good story, rather than into mindless scrolling of things like Onion headlines)

Thanks for the Good Book(s).

I’ve been reading the Book of Mormon a lot lately (trying to finish it by the end of the year) and I have definitely felt things shift a little more into balance since getting into that habit. Studying scriptures at length, including the Book of Mormon and the Bible is a habit I’ve had for years off and on. It feels very good to be “on.” Like vigorous exercise and clean eating, it’s the type of thing that’s easy to forget or to skip because it’s inconvenient, but life is just better when I do it. It’s (almost) like magic.

Thanks for the moon.

I'm kind of a freak for the night sky. Always have been. And I love a good moon. So does Theo. He LOVES the moon and always seems to know what phase it's in and whether it's waxing or waning and what all of that is supposed to mean.

Tonight the kids and I ventured out in our PJs and coats to check out the supermoon. It was cloudy, so unfortunately we didn't see much, though we did see a vague outline. It was nothing compared some of the incredible harvest moons we've witnessed together over the years. Hearing the kids scream with glee at a good harvest moon brings a lot of joy to this sky-loving heart of mine.

I should probably learn more about the night sky, but oh well. I just love it and that's enough for me.

When we got home from our night walk we read the books Kitten's First Full Moon and Grandfather Twilight together. Both somewhat "little kid" choices, but they ate it up. Lars even sat on my lap. Thanks for a lovely evening, moon!



*Other moony choices for little kids (or big kids who like little-kid stuff) include Happy Birthday, Moon (I wonder whether this book's author experimented with hallucinogens) and Harold and the Purple Crayon.

*I also recommend this really sweet movie, La Misma Luna (Under the Same Moon).

Thanks for the worth of souls.

Maya Angelou once wrote, "I am capable of what every other human is capable of. This is one of the great lessons of war and life."

I have been thinking about this as I've tried to wrap my mind around the Syrian refugee crisis. What....? How....? I think because I'm so snug over here in my safe little corner of the planet, wedged deeply in my own privilege, it just really makes zero sense to me. But add circumstances (corrupt government, various super-powers getting involved, etc.) and high stakes to tradition, anger, greed, deeply held beliefs. Suddenly it's a familiar story. I remember a scene from the book Suite Francaise, where a working-class man observes an exodus from Paris in 1940, not long before German occupation.

He had a unique way of thinking: he didn't consider himself that important; in his own eyes, he was not that rare and irreplaceable creature most people imagine when they think about themselves. He felt pity towards his fellow sufferers, but his pity was lucid and detached. After all, he thought, these great human migrations seemed to follow natural laws. Surely such occasional mass displacements were necessary to humans, just as the migration of livestock was to animals. He found this idea oddly comforting. The people around him believed that fate was tracking them down, them and their pitiable generation; but not Maurice: he knew there had been exoduses throughout history. How many people had died on this land (on land everywhere in the world), dripping with blood, fleeing the enemy, leaving cities in flames, clutching their children to their hearts: no one gave a thought to these countless dead, or pitied them. . . . As he walked along, he imagined their plaintive ghosts rising up, leaning towards him, whispering in his ear, "We've been through all this already, before you. Why should you be more fortunate than us?" "There's never been anything as horrible as this!" a big woman next to him groaned. "On the contrary, Madame, on the contrary," he replied quietly (pp. 54-55).

Mass displacement has never stopped happening and it won't stop happening. Bad things happen every second of the day. The world keeps turning without regard to sorrow. But each suffering person matters infinitely, and that's where I disagree with Maurice. Yes, there are a bazillion of us and our sorrows aren't new, even the worst ones. But our lives aren't cheap. Helping one person is not "a drop in the bucket"; it is everything.

I love this advice from Melinda Gates: "The world is full of what seem like intractable problems. Often we let that paralyze us. Instead, let it spur you to action. There are some people in the world that we can’t help, but there are so many more that we can. So when you see a mother and her children suffering in another part of the world, don’t look away. Look right at them. Let them break your heart, then let your empathy and your talents help you make a difference in the lives of others. Whether you volunteer every week or just a few times a year, your time and unique skills are invaluable."

I am thankful for the nudges to help in whatever small way, whatever the situation, because it's not as small as it seems; "the worth of souls is great in the sight of God." We are all capable of anything, good or bad, and we all matter.

 

Thanks for the magic.

(Roz Chast comics, newyorker.com and rozchast.com)

I've been doing some life-changing tidying up this year, just like the rest of the Internet. I have done this type of purging and dejunking many times before over the years, but I like the specific approach of giving thanks for what an item represents or once represented (like two huge bags of maternity clothes), accepting that it's over and that I have the memories, and moving on. 

I also like the extremely high standard Marie Kondo recommends holding all objects to. The most important impact that has had on me is that I think about this more and more before buying something in the first place. "How soon would I want to get rid of this once I've bought it?" The list of things worth buying just got so, so short.

Though I did enjoy this article, "The Materialism of Simplicity," which indicts minimizing as a first-world privilege that is its own form of consumption. http://www.intellectualtakeout.org/blog/materialism-simplicity

I'm trying not to fall into that trap as I have done before.

Anyway I am thankful for the light, clean feeling that comes from (mostly) only having useful and pleasing objects in my house. And I resolve to keep asking myself how useful or pleasing something would really be before bringing it into my house. So I can avoid too many more future Hefty bag situations. ;)

Everyone up on the peace train

Hi!

It's been awhile, eh?

First meeting (loved this moment)

So, I read this in the October visiting teaching message and it stuck with me.

Charity is having patience with someone who has let us down. It is resisting the impulse to become offended easily. It is accepting weaknesses and shortcomings. It is accepting people as they truly are. It is looking beyond physical appearances to attributes that will not dim through time. It is resisting the impulse to categorize others.

-Thomas S. Monson

I love that. I want so much to be like that. Some days I come a little closer to it, other days a little further away... Lack of sleep tends to lead to lack of perspective for me. Trying to keep that wider vision open.

For some reason it reminded me of this quote from the book The Survivors Club, which I read a few years ago and really enjoyed. (despite the fact that I'm pretty sure it contributed to a panic attack I had a few months after I read it...) It deserves its own post someday. In the meantime, this thought from a woman profiled in the book.

Above all, her near-death experience and countless scrapes around the world have given her an affinity with people who are suffering. "The wonderful thing about being a member of this [survivors] club," she says, "is that we've had the opportunity to touch our own mortality. Once you've had that opportunity, you don't take it for granted and you have to use it as a touchstone, you have to go back to it, because it matters what you do with it." ...Now she feels deeply attached to everyone around her, and she finds even the most mundane moments moving and meaningful. When she goes shopping at the vast Safeway supermarket in her neighborhood or watches a tourist bus roll by on the Golden Gate Bridge, she says, "My heart just feels so open towards these people....I just feel immense love for them and wish them peace, safety, and a good day." (332)

Peace, safety, and a good day to you too, my friends. 

In her heart

"Some would say their brawn is displayed in witty reasoning and conversation, while women know, be she queen or fishwife, that her greatest strength is in her heart. She lays down her life to bring forth a child, and then rises up and does it again." 

- Nancy E. Turner, My Name Is Resolute

Just finished this epically long book. (Epically? Epicly? Those both look wrong.) It was so long it could have been two books instead, but I didn't even mind. In my opinion Nancy Turner is one good storyteller. 

And in my opinion it sure must have been hard to be a woman three hundred years ago.

Or three thousand years ago.

Or any time really, but anyway I'm glad to be a woman now instead of then. And grateful to have made it safely through the births of these little ones. 

A story by Ida

Once upon a time bad guys tried to get the good guy.

I love Star Wars and I love space.

I love Darth Vader.

I love him most of all. I love him I love him...

I love him I love him. The end.

Reading

I love it when my kids bring home little gems from the library. 

"When You Are Happy" by Eileen Spinelli--very cute.

I won't quote the whole thing, but maybe just some parts I really liked:

...

When you are sad,

I will hold you.

I will let you cry.

I will catch your tears

in a blue cup

...

When you are lonely,

I will show up

on your doorstep

with my heart in

a basket.

...

When you are lost,

I will search for you

with my lantern.

I will follow the tangled path

and find a way

when there is no path.

...

When you are afraid,

I will take your hand

and not let go

except once

to borrow

one hundred tiny stars

to spell out the words:

YOU

ARE

SAFE

They will shine above you

forever,

even in the darkest dark.

...

...

Nothing like reading out loud on the couch late at night to my tall gangly sleepy seven-year-old to make me want to be a better mom.

Homework

Just looking through photos and found this gem from Theo's homework last month. I just really enjoyed the objects he labeled. (The "place" he chose was apparently the cat)

I don't particularly enjoy the story "The Christmas Day Kitten," though. But you might, if you like stories about homeless cats who die in childbirth. (Sorry for the spoiler.)

Little things that make up a day

One of my favorite passages from one of my favorite books:

"You'll see, you'll come to understand. These big things, these terrible things, are not the important ones. If they were, how could one go on living? No, it is the small, little things that make up a day, that bring fullness and happiness to a life. Your Sergeant coming home, a good dinner, your little Mary laughing, the smell of the woods--oh, so many things, you know them yourself." - Mrs. Mike, p. 165

(Nothing big or terrible has happened. Just felt like sharing a goofy picture and a nice quote :)

Thanks for books

I wouldn't exactly call myself a bookworm, but close. I go in spurts, sometimes reading several books at once, other times leaving my book untouched for days. But if someone asks me "What book are you reading these days?" I'd definitely always have an answer. (Right now: Life of Pi. I'm always a little behind on the ol' bestsellers list) I love to read, and I especially love getting swept up in a good story--which is why I go in spurts, since when I'm into a good book it's hard not to ignore everything else.

Since becoming a librarian--and becoming a mom, actually; these two big changes happened at around the same time--I have gotten more into nonfiction since it's easy to pick up and put down, and since I have tons of it at my workplace. But there's nothing like a good novel, the kind where you read the last page and you keep blinking, feeling a little stunned, like, "What just happened? Do I have to go back to real life now?" The kind that make me laugh or cry (or both), the kind that either make me grateful for my "real" life or inspire me to improve it (or both). Thanks for the thousands of books that have made my life so much richer!

A happy home

You may have heard about the Minnesota Betsy-Tacy adventure I went on with my three sisters and mother last weekend. This is the "Canoe Place" house where Betsy and Joe Willard (or their real-life counterparts, Maud and Delos Lovelace) made their happy home as newly(ish)weds. I can't imagine that if you read this blog you haven't at least heard of the Betsy-Tacy books. If you haven't read them, now is a good time to start. I promise you will love them. I know, it's a big promise, but it's true. As long as you're a girl. Maybe even if you're a boy.

More details to come.