God our Mother

I wanted to share something with you, my readers, that is a little more serious than my usual posts.  It is a tender topic, and though I may ruffle some feathers, I ask that you be tender in your comments.

I am in a complicated relationship right now.  With God.  I have been taking some things apart, deconstructing if you will, for the past few years.  Some of the things that I have been taught about God my whole life just aren’t making sense anymore.  Things like substitutionary atonement.  How the Bible was written and put together, and how do we know that something really important wasn’t left out?  Or that something is in there that shouldn’t be?  And why did people stop writing the Bible?  Did God say he was done writing Scripture? The way that the church approaches many present-day issues, particularly inclusion of LGBTQ in our faith communities. The fact that Jesus continually criticized the legalism of the Pharisees, and yet as evangelical Christians we have a specific prayer to pray and a way to behave in order to “go to heaven”.  And if praying that prayer–the one where we “believe in our hearts and confess with our mouths” (John 3:16) is what is required, what about all of the people that walked the earth before Jesus? This carrot on a stick theology–it just doesn’t resonate anymore.  I believe that this God I believe in is bigger than that, but right now all the puzzle pieces of my faith are scattered on the floor, and I am turning them all right-side up, looking for edges and corners to get my bearings.

I have been thinking a lot about being made in God’s image.  We throw that phrase around a lot in Christianity, don’t we?  I am made in the image of God.  So are you.  We are his image bearers, all.  And yet–God is always spoken of as a Father.  Jesus was a man.  I sometimes have thoughts that, though Jesus walked the earth for three decades, lowering himself to walk among humanity, what does he really know of being a woman, or a girl?  What does he know of all of the complicated issues that women face?  Of growing into a body that is objectified, oppressed, and sexualized; of periods and pregnancy and giving birth; of miscarriage and mothering, breastfeeding and potty training.  I secretly felt like God was probably limited in this area.

But wait–if I’m a woman, and I am God’s image-bearer, doesn’t God have just as many characteristics of the female sex?  Perhaps he is not as I, as many of us, have conjured him up to be in our minds–a Gandolf-like man, on a throne, sitting in an exclusive country club we call heaven.  Perhaps God is just as much woman as he is man.  Perhaps She is just as much a mother, as He is a Father.  Not 50% male and 50% female, not either/or.  God is and/both.

I heard a poem on a podcast recently that immediately made my eyes well up.  The kind of tears that come when you know you are hearing something profoundly true.  I really can’t stop thinking about it.  It is slowly changing the way I think of God, I think for the better.  I thought maybe you would like to read it also.

God Our Mother

To be a Mother is to suffer;
To travail in the dark,
stretched and torn,
exposed in half-naked humiliation,
subjected to indignities
for the sake of new life.

To be a Mother is to say,
“This is my body, broken for you,”
And, in the next instant, in response to the created’s primal hunger,
“This is my body, take and eat.”

To be a Mother is to self-empty,
To neither slumber nor sleep,
so attuned You are to cries in the night—
Offering the comfort of Yourself,
and assurances of “I’m here.”

To be a Mother is to weep
over the fighting and exclusions and wounds
your children inflict on one another;
To long for reconciliation and brotherly love
and—when all is said and done—
To gather all parties, the offender and the offended,
into the folds of your embrace
and to whisper in their ears
that they are Beloved.

To be a mother is to be vulnerable—
To be misunderstood,
Railed against,
Blamed
For the heartaches of the bewildered children
who don’t know where else to cast
the angst they feel
over their own existence
in this perplexing universe

To be a mother is to hoist onto your hips those on whom your image is imprinted,
bearing the burden of their weight,
rejoicing in their returned affection,
delighting in their wonder,
bleeding in the presence of their pain.

To be a mother is to be accused of sentimentality one moment,
And injustice the next.
To be the Receiver of endless demands,
Absorber of perpetual complaints,
Reckoner of bottomless needs.

To be a mother is to be an artist;
A keeper of memories past,
Weaver of stories untold,
Visionary of lives looming ahead.

To be a mother is to be the first voice listened to,
And the first disregarded;
To be a Mender of broken creations,
And Comforter of the distraught children
whose hands wrought them.

To be a mother is to be a Touchstone
and the Source,
Bestower of names,
Influencer of identities;
Life giver,
Life shaper,
Empath,
Healer,
and
Original Love.

~Allison Woodard
http://www.allisonwoodard.com/god-our-mother-poem/
Printed with permission

Happy Mother’s Day, friends.  We are loved by our Mother.

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Mommy needs a moment

I’ve noticed something about my kids.  It is definitely a pattern.  Perhaps you have noticed a similar pattern in your own life.

My children–they are always around me.  I mean always.  There.  Right there.  All the time.  If not both, at least one.  Sometimes one of them will go to a friend’s house to play or sleep over or something, and I’m all “woo-hoo!”, and then the other one is there.  Right there.  Saying things to me like, “Can we go to [insert germ-ridden and overpriced place where kids like to go]?  And go shopping? And make cookies?  OOOOOH, I know, let’s make slime!”  And I patiently smile at my little one and say, “why don’t we play the pajama game.  We will both get in our jammies, and lay on the couch with books, and see who can be the quietest.”  No one ever wants to play the pajama game with me.

Sometimes while I’m taking a shower, I get to listen to stories about Minecraft.  And when I sit on the toilet, people want me to make them pancakes.  Seriously, I could be in the kitchen for an hour doing dishes and such, but the moment I step into the bathroom, someone wants pancakes.

Most of the time I enjoy having them around during the day, but I long for days past when they went to bed at 7:00 pm.  That was really awesome, does anyone remember that?  That lovely middle part where your kids were fully sleeping through the night, but still young enough that you could put them to bed before Jeopardy came on.  I kind of turn into a pumpkin or something right around that time, so it worked well for me.  I tried to keep this going as long as possible, but my son was all, “MOM, I can’t go to bed at 7:30!  I’M ELEVEN!”  Whatever.  In that case, can I go to bed at 7:30??

Now I know that you moms who have already launched your kids out into the world of college and first apartments and fiancés and weddings are going to say something like, “Enjoy it!  Pretty soon they won’t want to be around you!  They’ll be all grown up and move away, and they will only come around when they need money, and you’ll be so lonely and purposeless and empty and wishing they would call!”  This is most likely correct.

But two things can be true at the same time, you know?  And acknowledging that the one thing is true does not make the other thing less true.   For instance, I can be reasonably smart and well educated with a Master’s degree and yet be completely unable to help my 6th grader with his math homework.  So yes, I will be very sad when they grow up and fly the nest.  But ALSO—mama’s so tired.  Not in a “I need sleep” kind of way, like when they were babies.  I am tired in the overworked and underpaid (make that unpaid) kind of way.  I’m tired in the stretched thin and pulled in too many directions kind of way.  In the eating 50% of my meals in the car while commuting or driving people to dance class kind of way.  I’m tired in the 3 loads of laundry a day kind of way.  I am tired in the get up at 5 am and pour all of my energy into the people at work and then my people at home, after which I get a whole 30 minutes to myself at the end of the day before I collapse into bed kind of way.   And I only have two kids.  Apparently there are people out there brave enough to have more than that, and honestly, I don’t know how you do it.  Or when you had the free time to keep making all the babies.

These days, most of the alone time that I get happens in the car.  Commuting is kind of like my “me time”, except that it’s stressful and there are lots of people cutting each other off and making rude hand gestures and my armpits get sweaty.  Oh, and last year I had to have an MRI, so I got to be alone in that machine for a good 45 minutes.  Little loud though.  I go to yoga once a week and that is kind of like being alone.  At least I’m on my mat all by myself and just breathing, and it’s quiet.  Except for when that nose-whistling girl is in my class, then I get all angry while I am yoga-ing.

Where I really want to be alone is in my house.  All of my mom fantasies begin and end in my clean, quiet house.  I mean, sometimes I get to be alone, and I get to be in the house, but I rarely get to be alone in the house.  A few years ago, my husband asked me what I wanted for my birthday.  I told him they could take me out to dinner.  Oh, and–could you take the kids away for a few days so I can be alone in my house?  You could see the confusion in his face, maybe a little trepidation.  I’m sure it is a little disarming to hear your wife say that she wants you to pack up the kids and leave town.  And honestly, it took me a long time to work up the courage to ask for that, because I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, or make anyone feel unloved.  But after some explanation, he seemed to get it.  And guess what?  On the weekend that we set aside to execute this plan, ONE OF THE KIDS STARTED VOMITING.  Naturally.  It took until February of the following year for us to find another weekend that fit the bill.

And what did I do on my mommy mental health weekend, you ask?  Well, let me tell you.  I made sure my house was all clean on Thursday–dusting, vacuuming, bathrooms all done.  I went out with a friend Friday night and stayed out as long as I wanted.  Which was 9:45 pm.  Then I stayed in my pajamas all weekend, watched whatever I wanted on Netflix, made food that nobody complained about, took a nap, and read books.  And my house stayed clean all weekend.  It was awesome.  All moms need to be able to do this on the regular.

And then my family came home.  And they messed up the house.  And wanted pancakes.  And complained about the food.  And put clean clothes down the laundry chute because that’s easier than folding them and putting them away. And told me stories about Minecraft.  And gave me huge hugs, because they missed me.

And I missed them too.

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Screaming Into My Pillow’s comprehensive guide to comfortable pants

I think we really need to talk about something.  It is a long overdue conversation.  We need to talk about pants.  There are more serious things going on in the world, I agree. But I have a lot of feelings and thoughts about pants, and I think we need to get some of these things out in the open.

Pants.  Ah, pants.  Those belly pinching leg prisons.  Pants are not my friend.  And yet, they are so necessary for warmth, coverage, and the health of our society.  I mean, I wouldn’t want to live in a world where people walked around with no pants.  Please do not make any such inference.

But, seriously–how many of us spend the better part of our days thinking about how uncomfortable and frustrating our pants are?  Most of the time they are tight in all the wrong places, even though you thought they fit perfectly when you tried them on in the store dressing room with the flattering lights and the mirrors that made you look two sizes smaller than you really are.  Sometimes they stretch out and sag in the butt or the knees by midday, and you spend the rest of the afternoon hiking them up to avoid a plumber-bummer situation. Quite commonly, they start out feeling fine in the morning, but then by the afternoon it becomes clear that your pants either have room for your body or your lunch, but not both.

Is it me, or have dress pants become so complicated?  Some of them have a zipper, a series of buttons, and then two or three hooks over top of the buttons.  And what’s up with that clear button that you have to fasten on the inside before you move on to the outside buttons?  Is it a modern day chastity belt? Is it some kind of backup plan to hold your pants up in case the three outer hooks and two outer buttons experience some kind of equipment failure? I personally have left that particular button undone many a time and I did not suffer any noticeable consequences.  In addition to the fact that it leaves a semi-permanent button imprint on my belly, it just seems superfluous.  And it’s very labor intensive, especially if you are striving to maintain proper hydration.  I went through this really embarrassing phase where I kept leaving my fly down at work, because by the time I fastened the inside button, two outside buttons, and three hooks, I had forgotten all about the zipper.  I just felt like I was done at that point.

My current job affords me the opportunity to wear scrubs every day if I want to.  If I want to?  Well, let me think about this for a second.  I can either wear dress pants that require hemming, dry cleaning, high heeled shoes, and a 4 minute re-fastening procedure every time I go to the bathroom, or I can wear pants that are basically work pajamas.  Not a hard decision.

On the positive side, I think one of the best things that has happened to pants is the mainstreaming of the legging.  Leggings are everywhere.  They are taking over!  You can get them in colors and patterns.  You can dress them up or down.  You can wear them with a dress or a sweater or a blouse, with flats or boots or slip-on sneakers.  When I was a kid, leggings were for dance class or worn as an extra layer under your “real” pants in frigid weather.  No more!  I know some would argue from various directions that leggings aren’t pants.  These are not my people.

However, I do believe that one should follow certain guidelines in order to successfully wear LAP (leggings as pants).  If you are over the age of 13, wear a long top.  Please make sure it covers your crotch and preferably most of your booty.  I don’t have a problem with people who think they have a nice butt trying to show it off, but sometimes you just don’t really know what’s going on back there.  You can’t see what the rest of us see.  We don’t want to see your panty lines or the pattern on your underwear.  We most certainly do not want to see your camel toe.  These are relatively easy guidelines to follow, given the fact that tunics and long, flowy tops are all the rage.  Please follow them, for the sake of your fellow citizens who have to walk behind you in the grocery store.   If you are indeed going to the gym, you may disregard the guidelines about wearing a long top and covering your butt.  However, continue to avoid camel-toe at all costs.  P.S.–mom and dad, if you’re reading this, DO NOT GOOGLE camel toe.  Trust me.

While we are on the subject of the gym, let’s discuss the athleisure trend. Athleisure is a way that we can wear sweats around the town and still look presentable–super cute, even.  Your old ripped sweats with the hole in the butt from college say to the world “I just rolled out of bed because I was up all night with my vomiting child who now needs Pedialyte, so here I am in the grocery store at 6 AM.”  And by all means, if you were up with your vomiting child all night and have to go out for Pedialyte, wear those crappy sweats.  Or if you’re going to Walmart on a random Tuesday. Same/same.  In comparison, your sporty space-dye joggers and fun long sleeved hoodie with those thumbhole thingies that look adorable but are such a pain for people who wash their hands a lot say, “I can be cute AND comfortable, and now I’m going to Target.”

While athleisure is both comfortable and cute, and LAP are a huge leap forward for womankind, nothing beats pajama pants.  I like to go right from my scrubs/work pajamas to my sleep pajamas, while strategically avoiding any weeknight activities that may require me to wear anything nicer that a pair of sporty joggers.  I mean, after I have worked all day, there is no greater reward than changing into my jammies and some soft, fuzzy socks.  I get very grumpy when this reward gets delayed by things like band concerts, parent-teacher conferences, dance class, or any number of pajama pant delaying activities.

Alright, let’s talk about jeans.  Jeans have come a long way since the pair of Buffalo jeans I had in ninth grade with the leather button fly and pleats.  And thank the Lord that the low-rise trend appears to have mostly run its course.  It seems that the people who make denim have recently gotten the memo from women that we want to look like we’re wearing jeans, without feeling like we’re wearing jeans.  Because let’s face it, jeans are not very comfortable unless they’re doctored up with all kinds of stretchy fabrics.  I’m not talking about 98% cotton and 2% spandex.  If this is the best your jeans can do, they are underperforming in the comfort arena.  Especially once skinny jeans came on the scene, this sort of fabric scenario became completely inadequate.  You need to look for words on the label like elastane, modal, and sometimes even words that are completely made up but someone trademarked them to make them look legit.  A good pair of very stretchy jeggings can take you to many a social outing feeling stylish and relatively comfortable until such time that you can politely excuse yourself and sneak home to get in your pajamas.

I realize that I have just thrown a lot of information at you.   I am very invested in helping all of us be more comfortable and avoiding constrictive waistbands.  So for your convenience, I have summarized my thoughts into this helpful flowchart below.

CLICK HERE TO SEE ENLARGED IMAGE

Microsoft Word - pants infographic.docx

That is all for today.  Until next time:  Stay comfortable, my friends.

All the books I read in my sweats in 2017

Welcome to the second annual installment of “all the books I read in my sweats” (and pajamas, and sometimes yoga pants) in 2017, in the exact order in which I read them of course. Because why would you bother making a list if you didn’t put things in order?

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings–Maya Angelou ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

It’s a classic for a reason.  If you haven’t read it, you should.  This was my first foray into Maya Angelou, and I will definitely put her other works on my “to-read” list for the future.

 

 

 

 

Falling Upward:  A spirituality for the two halves of life–Richard Rohr ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I really loved, and really needed, this book at this particular phase in my life.  Richard Rohr is a Franciscan priest at the Center for Action and Contemplation in New Mexico.  I call him my favorite monk, but I’m not sure that he’s really a monk.  But I call him my favorite monk, so there. I now subscribe to his daily emails and have stalked out most of his public speaking appearances on YouTube and all of the podcasts I can find.  He is a wise teacher and I am a total groupie.  I might need an intervention.  Anyhow, this is a book about spiritual development, if that is something you’re interested in (which I am!).  There is a lot of wisdom in this book.  I just bought my own copy and plan to read it again.


The Nightingale–Kristin Hannah⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I really liked this one, as did most of the people I know of who read it.  I have not been a big fan of Kristin Hannah in the past because I find some of her other books a little cheesy, especially the romance parts.  Eeew…romance.  Anyhow, this one had lots of tragedy to balance out the romance.  I’m all about tragedy.  The themes in this book are very similar to Sarah’s Key, which is a fantastic book as well.  In fact, at the end of the book Kristin Hannah acknowledges Tatiana De Rosnay, the author of Sarah’s Key, for helping her with her research for the book.  This is a nice long one if you’re looking for something to sink your teeth into (with a little cheese on top). This book had five-star potential, but I subtracted one star due to the cheese.

 

The Kind Worth Killing–Peter Swanson⭐️⭐️
This book was a real page-turner, but also I didn’t really like it.  Which is weird, I know.  Sometimes I will read a book like this and it is suspenseful enough to keep me reading, but the whole time I am also harshly critiquing it.  My major issue with this book is that the author seemed to give the reader almost too much information about what was going on in each character’s head, which kills some of the suspense.  The book is written from multiple points of view, and the author seems to just blurt out each character’s motives and internal dialogues.  Some of the twists and turns in the plot were a little lame and predictable. Just my $0.02.

 

The Underground Railroad–Colson Whitehead⭐️⭐️⭐️

I had high expectations of this book because of all the praise and attention it garnered, but it wasn’t my favorite.  In the context of the pre-civil war era, the author tells the story of Cora, a young black slave attempting to flee from slavery via the underground railroad, which is imaginatively contextualized in this book as an actual railroad.  I felt a little bogged down by this book for some reason.  I preferred The Invention of Wings (which I read a few years ago) which is set in the same time period with similar themes, and just blew me away.

 

 

Love Wins:  A book about heaven, hell, and the fate of every person who ever lived–Rob Bell⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This is a book that will challenge the way that you think about heaven, hell, and God.  Is heaven a literal place?  Is hell?  Isn’t it incongruent to think that God would give us never-ending grace and forgiveness in this life with unlimited chances to believe in Him, but as soon as our physical bodies cross over into death, those who didn’t believe burn in the fires of hell? Or that God’s grace is only available to humans during these finite moments that we live in our physical bodies on Earth, despite the fact that those of us who are from a faith tradition typically believe in an infinite God who is beyond what the human brain can comprehend?  I myself am doing some deconstruction of my faith and found this book to be a breath of fresh air, a new way of looking at things without throwing the baby out with the bathwater.  I will read this one again.  Rob Bell got a lot of flack for writing this book, with many calling him a heretic.  That makes me like him even more.

 

The Other Boleyn Girl–Philippa Gregory⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This is a historical fiction novel set in the era of King Henry XIII in the English Tudor Court.  This book was an excellent escape from everyday life.  It was scandalous without being too smutty.  When I first started reading I was a little put off with the treatment of women in that era, though I realize this is just a function of the time period.  Still–holy misogyny, Batman.  I read quite a bit of historical fiction but have never read anything set in this time period, and it was terribly fun to read.

 

 

 

Breath, Eyes, Memory–Edwidge Danticat ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

There were a lot of good things about this book that I really admired.  However, overall I felt that it is was missing something.  I was interested in reading it because the author is Haitian, and with my recent time in Haiti I have been wanting to read more and understand more about the culture, and was hoping to gain some of this unique perspective from Danticat.  I read that she started writing this book when she was 18 years old, and it was published when she was 25, which is just incredible.  So some of my issues with the book may have to do simply with the fact that she was not fully developed as an author at the time she wrote it.  I felt that it lacked a cohesive plot, and the pacing was perhaps a little too quick and left me wanting for a little more in the way of character development.  The story itself was pretty sad, so I wouldn’t recommend reading this if you are down in the dumps.  That said, I am interested in reading more of her work and, despite the drawbacks I just mentioned, I was engaged in the book.  It left me wanting to understand more about Haitian culture, and to read more from this unique author.

 

The Enneagram:  A Christian Perspective–Richard Rohr ⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2
I love the Enneagram.  It is such a neat tool for self-discovery and personal growth.  Though the Enneagram sounds really “woo woo” and “out there” and “new age”, it’s not.  It is an ancient personality typing system which can be used to understand yourself and others better.  If you have ever taken a Myers-Briggs personality test and enjoyed learning more about yourself in that way, then you would probably enjoy this as well.  It is strangely accurate.  I’m a “one” on the Enneagram, by the way.  This book is written by my favorite monk, Richard Rohr, but it is not my favorite book on the Enneagram.  It is a little heavy and wordy.  If you are interested in learning more about the Enneagram, I suggest The Road Back to You by Suzanne Stabile and Ian Cron instead, which is easier to understand for beginners and gives an excellent overview of all the types (there is also a Road Back to You podcast, available on iTunes, which I enjoyed also; and Ian Cron has an additional podcast called Typology).  Of note, my husband started reading up on the Enneagram, since I have been talking about it for a whole year, and he is sold on it too.

 

The Art of Racing in the Rain–Garth Stein ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Just the sweetest, most touching book to read.  Written from Enzo’s point of view–a wise, funny, and beautiful dog who tells the story of his family’s love, loss, and rebuilding.  You will fall in love with Enzo.  One of my favorites this year.

 

 

 

 

 

Unbroken–Laura Hillenbrand ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This book recounts the true story of Louis Zamperini, a running prodigy turned WWII pilot whose plane went down, leaving him and his com padres stranded in the middle of the ocean. This book is, in a word, stunning.  The story is rich, interesting, and well-paced.  The writing is gorgeous.  There is a good reason that this book is a bestseller-turned-major motion picture.  Highly recommended!

 

 

 

What is the Bible:  How an ancient library of poems, letters, and stories can transform the way you think and feel about everything–Rob Bell ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Another illuminating read from Rob Bell.  He offers a fresh perspective on the Bible, discussing how we can look at it as true without holding tightly to some of the strictly literal interpretations that we are used to hearing in Christian circles.  It’s on my Kindle, and I plan to read it again.

 

 

 

 

Little Bee–Chris Cleave ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This excellent book is about a Nigerian refugee, Little Bee, whose life tragically intersects with Sarah, an English woman with a troubled marriage.  It was sad, tragic, hopeful, tender, all of it.  I loved it.

 

 

 

 

 

Present Over Perfect–Shauna Neiquist ⭐️⭐️⭐️ and 1/2

For this one, I picked up the audio book format, which I sometimes do if we have a long car trip or I need to spice up my commute.  I enjoyed hearing about this author’s personal journey for a less harried, more peaceful life, letting go of the “hustle” and need to prove and please.  She is warm and relatable, but the book was a little on the long side for me, with some of the material becoming repetitive after a while.  It was a good listen, though I’m not sure if I would have had the patience to get all the way through it in tradidional book form.

 

 

Bird by Bird: Some thoughts on writing and on life–Anne Lamott⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Anne Lamott is so awesome.  In all of her books, she manages to show up as her neurotic, darkly humorous, borderline suicidal, imperfect self in the most endearing way.  She is wickedly funny and profoundly wise.  This book is a collection of her insights related to her writing process (spoiler: she approaches writing with all of those same neuroses and imperfections, and uses them instead of fighting them), weaved in with her insights about life.  I laughed out loud, a lot, while reading this book.  Even if you are not a writer, there is a wealth of wisdom to be mined from this book.

 

 

In a Dark, Dark Wood–Ruth Ware ⭐️
Meh.  This was another one of those books that sets itself up to be a suspenseful psychological thriller but lacked the depth necessary for me to wholeheartedly recommend it.  Fluffy beach-read at best.  I would put this in the same category as The kind worth killing, discussed earlier.

 

 

 

 

The Sound of Gravel–Ruth Wariner ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️💥💥💥💥💥💥💥
This book is a riveting memoir about the author’s childhood and coming-of-age in a polygamist cult.  This book blew me away.  I can’t stop thinking about it.  I don’t want to tell you anything else about it because I don’t want to spoil the unfolding.  What I will say is that it is beautifully written, brave, surreal, and reads more like fiction than a memoir.  In fact, most of the time I wished that it was fiction, as no one should have to endure the pain that Ms. Wariner courageously recounts.  This book is my pick of the year!

 

 

Brain on Fire–Susannah Cahalan ⭐️⭐️⭐️
This memoir that had the unfair disadvantage of being read by me after The Sound of Gravel.  Just like a mother tries not to compare her children, I tried not to compare this memoir to my previously stated favorite.  But I did, I can’t help it.  Anyway, this one is a real-life medical mystery, recounting the author’s experience with a rare neurological diagnosis.  If you like the TV show House, I predict you will enjoy this book.  I felt a little lukewarm about it, for reasons that are not entirely clear to me.

 

 

 

Mothers and other strangers–Gina Sorell ⭐️⭐️

I almost liked this book, which was confusing for me.  I found the beginning of the book hard to get into, but by the middle I was starting to get invested in the main character, Elsie, as she struggled through her grief after the death of her mother, a selfish narcissist who was largely absent for most of Elsie’s youth.  All this fantastic character development, the plot started to thicken and –then she meets her long lost aunt in the last chapter, who gives her all the answers she needed for closure.  It felt anti-climactic, almost a lazy way to end it.

 

 

Of Mess and Moxie–Jen Hatmaker ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Oh man, why can’t Jen Hatmaker be my friend in real life?  I loved this spunky, honest, and hilarious book of short essays on everything:  parenting, faith, childhood memories, failure, grace, girlfriends, Netflix binges, dreams, doldrums, and all the messy parts of life.  My favorite chapter was the one on exercise–it had me laughing out loud!

 

 

 

Finding God in the Waves–Mike McHargue ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

god in the wavesThis is a really compelling, really honest memoir by Mike McHargue, also known as “Science Mike”.  Born and raised in a Southern Baptist evangelical church, he describes his crisis of faith brought on after he studied the Bible through the eyes of a scientist.  Not surprisingly, his questions were not well received by his church, his Christian friends, or his family, nor was the fact that he lived as a “closet atheist” for two years.  He describes his journey, along with an encounter with God that lead him to put some of the pieces of his faith back together, with science as the glue.  I enjoyed it.  His scientific insights were enlightening and his honesty was refreshing.

 

Looking through my list for this year, I notice that my reading was a little light on fiction, which is something I would like to read more of in 2018.  Talk to me.  What were your favorites this year?  I want to know your hits and misses this year, of any genre.  Let’s build our repertoire for 2018!

All Aboard the Hot Mess Express

I got the best mug for Christmas this year.

Normally I am staunchly opposed to the gifting of mugs, on account of the fact that my husband used to be a teacher, and the yearly influx of mugs was just overwhelming.  Mugs with snowmen on them, mugs filled with candy, insulated travel mugs, mugs reading “#1 teacher”, personalized mugs…. So. Many. Mugs. The first year when he was just starting out we happily accepted all of the mugs like the dirt-poor, just out of college, living in an apartment the size of a shoe box twenty two year olds we were.  But by his tenth year teaching?  Let’s just say, mugs made me cry.  (Just do the math—if you get an average of 6-8 mugs a year times 10 years teaching = WHERE DO I PUT ALL THE MUGS???)

But I digress.  I got this mug here from the white elephant gift exchange we had at work.

The mug reads “All Aboard the Hot Mess Express”

 

Isn’t it awesome?  I saw it and I just knew we were meant for each other.

This was one of those gift exchanges where you could either take a new present from the pile, or steal from someone else.  I stole this one from Eileen who, when I approached her and said “I will take that, thank you very much”, replied “Yeah, I figured”.

Wait, what?  She figured that I would take the “hot mess” mug?  I don’t know what that means.

Maybe she knows about that time that I went to work wearing two different high heeled boots, one black and one brown.  I mean, they looked quite similar in style, and the heel was almost the same height.  I thought I was just a little off balance from fatigue, quite honestly.  I had a three month old baby and a two year old at the time that I had to drop off at the sitter before work, so I think maybe I get a pass on this one.  I decided to deal with the faux pas by just addressing the elephant in the room right at the outset.  The whole day, I just walked into each exam room and said, “Hi! I’m Tracy, one of the nurse practitioners.  I’m wearing two different shoes today because getting dressed is hard for me.  What brings you in today?”  Also during this very fragile and sleepless time in my life I showed up at the gym (multiple times) with my shirt on either inside out, backward, or both.  Add to that the time I worked about 4 hours–a half day!– with my sweater on inside out before a medical assistant kindly said, “Hey, I’m not sure if you know this, but your sweater is inside out”.  You’re not sure if I know?  Do people wear their sweaters inside out on purpose? 

There was also a period of time about a year ago when I spent at least two weeks mismatching my pants and tops.  I had two pairs of pants in the same style, one black and one navy.  Despite the fact that I have no history of color blindness, I would get to  work and notice that I had on the navy pants instead of the black pants with my black shoes, or vice versa.  This sort of thing went on for almost two weeks, despite my efforts to carefully check the color of my pants before heading out the door.  I finally gave up and declared, “THAT’S IT!  I WILL NO LONGER WEAR PANTS.”  I wore skirts and dresses exclusively for about a month after that.  Pants can suck it.

Then there was the time I was eating an apple in my car.  It was an Empire apple.  They are so yummy, aren’t they?  New York State’s finest.  Anyhow, after eating the apple in my car, I parked and went around to a few places to do some errands.  I went to at least three places–a few quick in-and-outs at some stores, the bank, etc.  At my last stop, I was chatting with this nice lady who was helping me out at the counter.  I conversed with her for at least 3 full minutes before she said, “I just need to tell you–you have a little sticker on your chin.”  I reached my hand up to my chin and, sure enough, there was the little oval produce sticker, stuck to my chin, from the apple I ate one hour and three errands ago.  I don’t eat apples anymore.

ALSO, there was this time at work when I had to do a trach tube change on one of our medically fragile kids.  Her mom was, legitimately, a real stickler about germs, because one of the easiest places for a medically fragile kid to get sick is in a doctor’s office or a hospital (unfortunate, but true!)  So she watched everyone wash their hands and made sure everything was tip-top.  We set up the drape and got the supplies all ready, and we were just about to change the trach tube when the mom said, “What’s that on the drape?”  Strangely, a large chocolate chip, one of those oversized ones, was sitting on the drape overlying the patient’s chest.  “It looks like a chocolate chip”, said my very wise and observant physician colleague.  “That is so weird,” I said, “how did that get there?”  We all looked at one another, completely confused and befuddled at this unexplainable phenomenon, as mysterious as a crop circle.  The chocolate chip didn’t seem to be too much of an infectious threat (since it was a clean procedure, not a sterile one) so we removed it and carried on.  When we got out of the room, I confessed to the doctor that my NP colleague kept a jar of chocolate chips in our office, and almost every day after lunch I grabbed a handful from the jar as a little treat.  Well, on this particular day, I was wearing an infinity scarf.  And….well, the chocolate chip kinda sorta fell out of my scarf while we were getting everything ready.  It must have dropped into my scarf when I tossed the chocolate into my mouth, and then fell out when I was getting the supplies ready.  We died.

There is more.  Oh, so much more.  But we will have to save some stories for another day.

So, yes Eileen, I stole the mug from you for a very good reason.  I have earned it.  I am the conductor of the Hot Mess Express.  All Aboard!  Choo choo!!