Author Archives: Shannon


About Shannon

Alaskan homeschooling mama of eight sweet kids. Loves Jesus, writing, coffee, Dickens, and snapping a kitchen towel at my husband when he's not looking.

dying into life: what will be well is even now well

Posted on by February 22, 2024

A gloomy, grey, windy day. It’s finally warm and that’s the silver lining; at forty degrees, we are eighty degrees higher than a few weeks ago when we had the coldest cold snap I’ve ever known. The water melting off the roof flies sideways in the wind, and soon there will be hopeful patches of bare ground, but not today.

It was one of those weeks; the grey bleakness seemed a little in-your-face as it collided with exhaustion and PMS and the loss of three birds in one day. All the noises were louder and I was overstimulated and hypersensitive, on edge over little things like the grating sound of rattling tin foil, the shrieking of a kid, and the frustration of not being able to finish a task. But it was big things, too, like medical situations with two sons, and the transition of another son moving out. And the ache all over.

dying into life: what will be well is even now well

The best prescription is to go to bed early. That sounds simple but what it really means is take vitamins, check on boys, turn Kav around so he doesn’t roll off his bed, spray the couch with pet deterrent, brush and floss teeth, and finally go to the shower to have a good cry.

The next day was better, and this is how it often goes, these slumps: downward frustration, level out in rest, rise upward again. It was still windy, though; the ravens lifted at odd angles, caught themselves on extended wings, and drifted back down. Another gust and they did it again, choreography above the highway. Their fight with the wind makes the storm visible.

We were forecasted to get a big storm but it must’ve stalled out because the highest gusts were overnight and even then the stovepipe wasn’t as shrill as normal. And that’s encouraging, because it’s a picture of figurative storms, too – situations often seem dire but end up petering out into a threat that was just used to prepare and strengthen you.

Which brings me to our latest medical drama.

We saw a surgeon this week about Andrey’s cyst; he said a lot of unhelpful and unhopeful things about future needs, current dilemmas, and the catch-22 of money solving everything if only we were billionaires. But since we aren’t, things are “difficult,” and apparently not being a billionaire is called a “social problem” in condescending doctor-speak. In real English though, three front teeth will need to go and bone mass is missing; something about food moving into the nasal cavity if things aren’t reconstructed fully. Seattle was repeatedly mentioned. And even though the latest CT scan shows no change to the area in the last few months (an answer to prayer), the surgeon said “the situation has changed” – meaning, last fall he thought we could easily take care of this in Alaska, and now he realizes he was wrong but doesn’t want to say so.

“I don’t know if you’re able to consider liquidating some resources…” he says. “Of course you want to do what’s right for him.” As though we need a pep talk to make the right choices, and also as though we don’t have other children who need a roof over their heads and food to eat. We need to do what’s right for them, also, and this young doctor doesn’t understand the legalities of guardianship or the fact that Andrey’s medical expenses are no longer in our financial jurisdiction. He doesn’t know we’ve emptied our accounts for this kid before; it’s how we started this process. And he has no idea we drive a 25-year-old vehicle. My bag of tricks is running pretty low right now.

“Have we to die again?” I asked.

“No,” he answered, with a smile like the Mother’s; “you have died into life, and will die no more; you have only to keep dead. Once dying as we die here, all the dying is over. Now you have only to live, and that you must, with all your blessed might. The more you live, the stronger you become to live.”

– George MacDonald, Lilith

And I think we must be growing stronger, because it’s a battle to keep the wind at bay when it’s trying to fly right in your face, flinging words of weighty responsibility that aren’t ours to really be concerned about. The storm may turn out to be nothing. And the storm isn’t the end-all-be-all anyway, although the enemy wants us to think so. The storm answers to the same God we do – the difference is that God gave us authority to speak to the wind and waves like He did.

For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

– Galatians 2:19-20

The more we live, the more we understand that the storm doesn’t command us. We command it.

Which doesn’t mean we don’t (or shouldn’t) grieve as we face it, because oh, the wind is terrible sometimes. Parenting can rip you wide open, and whether it’s done badly or done well, it leads to pain. The only safe place is in the lukewarm middle where nothing matters because you willfully hold yourself back, refusing to let grief touch you, and I’ve been tempted there before. But that’s not trusting God or dying to self; that’s protecting yourself while everything dies around you. And that protection is a lie that leads to the wrong kind of death.

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul?”

– Matthew 16:24-26

How can we who died to sin still live in it? Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.

– Romans 6:2b-4

So there are two kinds of pain, just as there are two kinds of death – one side is fruitful and leads to healing and restoration and life, and the other is pointless, just leading to more pain and death.

For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death.

– 2 Corinthians 7:10

Over the last week I’ve grieved over a dead chicken, a distant child, and my own selfishness and imperfections. We grieve our inability to be all things to all people. We grieve the lost time and gained absence and the increasing gap between things that should be close instead of far apart.

But just because a situation is not what it should be doesn’t mean it won’t be what it ought to be later – either in the near future, or on the other side. And this is what God keeps reminding me.

“I told you, brother, all would be well!—When next you would comfort, say, ‘What will be well, is even now well.’”

– George MacDonald, Lilith

What will be well, is even now well. That doesn’t mean the pain or sickness or wrongdoing or sin was God’s will. It means He makes all things new.

So we don’t need to protect ourselves from the grief or the storm, because we get to command in the middle of it – and sometimes what we need to command is ourselves, and remember it is not I who live, but Christ who lives in me. We are keeping dead, staying low, so we can live with all our blessed might. We have not lost our lives, but found them.

“But shall I not grow weary with living so strong?” I said. “What if I cease to live with all my might?”

“It needs but the will, and the strength is there!” said the Mother. “Pure life has no weakness to grow weary withal. The Life keeps generating ours.—Those who will not die, die many times, die constantly, keep dying deeper, never have done dying; here all is upwardness and love and gladness.”

– George MacDonald, Lilith

I feel that will, commanding it when an enthusiastic little guy hugs me but also inadvertently pulls my hair, and again when the huge blond tabby wants to cuddle but his claws drive through my jeans. Pain all over, amplified, but the strength is there, and so is love and gladness.

Celebration and grief mingle confusedly amid these new phases and stages, and fear threads its way into the unfamiliar. But we live dead and have done with dying, and I remind myself that all is upward from here.

Soon there will be hopeful patches of bare ground, and green life sprouting. New chicks peeping.

We’ve made it through the hardest part of winter, through the cold snap, through the grief and the storm. We’ve seen past the unhelpful and unhopeful things into the truth beyond, that all that will be well is even now well. Some things still hurt, they still matter, many of them still should’ve been different, but it will be well because God is redeeming all things, so even now it is well with my soul.

I don’t know: confronting confusion with equanimity (and satire)

Posted on by February 1, 2024

Our seventh attempt to get through to a hotline. You are number 120 in queue, your wait time is 45 minutes.

Thirty minutes later: You are number 97 in queue, your wait time is one hour and twenty-eight minutes. Wait, what?

Almost two hours later: A noise that sounds like someone picking up the phone to answer. And maybe they did, but we’ll never know, because the call was disconnected.

[OH EXPLETIVE]

I don't know: confronting confusion with equanimity (and satire)

Have I complained about government paperwork enough already? Too bad, here we go.

If you’ve never heard of it before, let me introduce you to the concept of the “Circumlocution Office.” You’ve probably experienced it many times, just not by that name.

The Circumlocution Office was (as everybody knows without being told) the most important Department under Government. No public business of any kind could possibly be done at any time without the acquiescence of the Circumlocution Office.

– Charles Dickens, Little Dorrit

The Circumlocution Office is where All Things Bureaucracy and Paperwork go to die. But they don’t just die – they relocate, then circumvent, then redirect, then dawdle sluggishly toward some oozey pit of phone lines, paper-stuffed cabinets, and stale TicTacs in a room like a giant coffin with apathetic lighting until all papers within have disintegrated from the erosion of procrastination.

Thanks to the guardianship process for two of our kids, we are in the middle of applying for multiple programs for both of them. (This is required, not optional, don’t even get me started.) I’ve mentioned before that paperwork and administrative duties are my hate language – as opposed to actual love languages like coffee, memes, and good sushi – and the process of navigating this system has challenged all my efforts toward healthy self-medicating, including prayer, staying up too late reading, and a slightly addictive obsession with Sudoku.

If you’re not familiar with Sudoku, the instructions are precise: Every row, column, and square must have only one of each number (or in our case, color). Even at the higher levels, it’s hard but not confusing. When you feel stuck there’s always a solution if you consider it long enough. The rules are simple and they don’t change.

In spite of being in the guardianship process for over a year, we have yet to find a single corner of this arena where experts agree on how the process is completed, and none of it has been streamlined for ease and efficiency.

It was equally impossible to do the plainest right and to undo the plainest wrong without the express authority of the Circumlocution Office. If another Gunpowder Plot had been discovered half an hour before the lighting of the match, nobody would have been justified in saving the parliament until there had been half a score of boards, half a bushel of minutes, several sacks of official memoranda, and a family-vault full of ungrammatical correspondence, on the part of the Circumlocution Office.

– Charles Dickens, Little Dorrit

Enter Paperwork Saga, round two: Day of Phone Calls.

Paperwork requires phone calls because applications and government websites are designed by mystical regulatory leprechauns in such a way as to give you only a third of the information you need to fill them out. The rest is a riddle of precision guesswork spiked with threats of legal retribution if you forget to cross a T or you accidentally double dot an I.

It turns out though, there are some wonderful people whom you can call. Most of them admit the system is a mess, and none of them actually work for the government.

Unfortunately, none of them know the same things. For example, I have asked approximately fourteen people if we could apply for a particular requirement for our kids before they turned eighteen, and every answer without fail has been “I don’t know” until one person finally said, “Oh, absolutely. In fact, it takes about a year for it to go through. So you should’ve applied a year ago.”

*headdesk, headdesk*

But here’s what I’m learning: Most of the things we dread are not as bad or hard as they seem. And when they are, you get writing material out of it. (Also, the extraneous forms and duplicate paperwork can usually be composted as bedding in the chicken coop.)

This glorious establishment had been early in the field, when the one sublime principle involving the difficult art of governing a country, was first distinctly revealed to statesmen…Whatever was required to be done, the Circumlocution Office was beforehand with all the public departments in the art of perceiving — HOW NOT TO DO IT.

– Charles Dickens, Little Dorrit

One government website says “You can try applying online.” (Try? Try? Like it’s one of those ball-throwing games at the State Fair?) The instructions continue with this disclaimer: “Depending on your situation, it may be hard or it may be easy.” Um. Greeeat. Turns out, if the website craps out in the first thirty seconds every time you try filling out the forms, it’s definitely hard.

Two people told me, “Call this office. They will definitely be able to help you get this waiver.” They had to tell me repeatedly because, at this point, you can see how skeptical I am of anyone’s surefire solution. But I finally called the office and left a message. The following week, I heard back.

“No, sorry,” the guy said, “we only do this waiver, and you need this other waiver. There are actually five different waivers,” he admitted, “and I know it’s really confusing. But you need to call this office, in Anchorage.”

How are we supposed to get anywhere when even the professionals who are supposed to guide you through this don’t know what they’re doing because the system is so bloated?

…The Circumlocution Office went on mechanically, every day, keeping this wonderful, all-sufficient wheel of statesmanship, How not to do it, in motion. Because the Circumlocution Office was down upon any ill-advised public servant who was going to do it, or who appeared to be by any surprising accident in remote danger of doing it…

– Charles Dickens, Little Dorrit

After that blunder, someone assured me, “You can call this number for help, these people definitely know what they’re doing, they do this for a living.” Thereupon I called the number and an answering machine picked up; it said they may (What? May?) return my call within ten business days.

But hey, to their credit, they called two days later and got my voicemail. It was a woman whose first language was definitely not English, and her message directed me to the same website that was unnavigable in the first place.

Numbers of people were lost in the Circumlocution Office…Boards sat upon them, secretaries minuted upon them, commissioners gabbled about them, clerks registered, entered, checked, and ticked them off, and they melted away. In short, all the business of the country went through the Circumlocution Office, except the business that never came out of it; and its name was Legion.

– Charles Dickens, Little Dorrit

Among the many things we don’t know about this process is that all these people (the ones we’ve dealt with, at least) are actually kind, respectful, and encouraging. Maybe I was prepared for otherwise after two years of officials behaving like Gestapo who wouldn’t even respect a person’s right to breathe freely. (Those protocols really brought out the worst in humanity, didn’t they?)

Had they used their faces, not for communication, not to utter thought and feeling, not to share existence with their neighbors, but to appear what they wished to appear, and conceal what they were? And, having made their faces masks, were they therefore deprived of those masks, and condemned to go without faces until they repented?

– George MacDonald, Lilith

The difference is that during the plandemic, those officials demanded that you wear a mask, too, and they turned into freakish banshees if you refused – and ironically, instead of covering ugliness, their masks revealed what was really inside and made them more hideous than ever.

“How long must they flaunt their facelessness in faceless eyes?” I wondered. “How long will the frightful punition endure? Have they at length begun to love and be wise? Have they yet yielded to the shame that has found them?”

– George MacDonald, Lilith

But it seems like most professionals have come back to just being decent people, truly trying to help. And we need help, because the system is a convoluted mess.

It’s such an intimidating process. Court documents flooding my inbox, meetings with lawyers, interviews with court visitors. It all seems very official – and it is – but it’s also very human. And maybe this is a secret, but the formality is a cover for an extremely informal, fluid process. It, too, is just a mask.

We want to walk through the process correctly. The problem is that there’s no correct way to do it, and all the experts tell you something different (unless it’s “I don’t know,” which is alarmingly consistent).

And honestly, I would rather hear “I don’t know” than a bunch of misleading information. So this is a good step – a cultural willingness to admit humility, to let go of pride and ego, to acknowledge we’re all in this together, needing answers. How else do we make sense of the things that don’t?

Remind them to be submissive to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready for every good work, to speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, to be gentle, and to show perfect courtesy toward all people. For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another.

– Titus 3:1-3

Of course, cooperating with a system isn’t the same as capitulating or conforming to that system, just as being “submissive to rulers and authorities” isn’t the same as sucumbing to tyranny. So we work the problem in front of us, sitting in the discomfort of not having immediate solutions. The answers are there, regardless of how ambiguous they look right now. Time will either bring the solutions to the surface, or they just won’t matter because we will have bigger things to deal with.

What I’ve really needed to hear from someone is, “Yes, it’s a mess. Yes, it’s confusing. You’re doing fine.” And praise God, the Lord brought someone who said that very thing, and it was such a comfort. (She still didn’t know how to file for SSI…but I digress).

So friend, if you are walking through something hard and complicated, and there are no clear answers and lots of confusing directions, let me tell you: Yes, it’s a mess. The world is a cleanup operation, and these are confusing times. We don’t have all the answers but Jesus does, and we have the mind of Christ so we are able to discover Kingdom solutions. We can wait for the revelation while we sit in the mystery. You’re trying and waiting and trusting? You‘re doing fine.

There’s another number sitting on my list that I’ve been referred to multiple times. Overcoming my jadedness, I finally call and a woman with a smoker’s voice answers.

“You have access to the internet?” she asks, and directs me to a website with a big yellow button to apply.

Short form, easy. Now I feel reckless and brave, and ask if she can help me navigate this other arena.

“Yep, that’s the Something-something-aging-something office. Their number is –”

“Wait, that’s the office I need?”

“Yep. Their number is…” and she gives me a local number with real people who live here in Alaska and actually answer questions.

Miracles abound.

I called the lady and she was so nice. The person with all the knowledge and resources and answers will call us next week and help us through the whole process, she said.

“Of course, you don’t have to go through our office, we’re just here to support you. You can go directly to the federal government website if you want.” And it was all I could do to not scream, No! I need you, please don’t leave me! (Of course, she hasn’t called me back yet, and it’s been over a week. So I guess that’s on my to-do list again tomorrow.)

But something that keeps recurring to me is that many of these things that seem like such a big deal – so time consuming, such hassles – end up being nothing in the long run. I don’t just mean that in perspective they are small, but that they often just dissolve into nothingburgers, distractions that just took up too much brain space when we could’ve been cultivating peace and productivity elsewhere.

The Spirit reveals what we need to know when we abide. And often we don’t need the answers as soon as we think we do, so resting in the mystery of His timing is an exercise in growing in trust and equanimity. It’s easy to slip into intimidation and pressure, but taking a step back means we won’t allow the enemy to magnify that stress in or around us.

Instead, we can counter that stress and confusion with prayer, compassion, Sudoku, and mockery of inept government systems as we expose the mask and move toward a more transparent, healthy, and secure culture. We will try and wait and trust. My big situations, your big situations – will they even matter in the big picture? I don’t know; it’s a mess out there. But you’re doing great.

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fave books of 2023

Posted on by January 18, 2024

Welp, I did it: I met my goal and read fifty-two books last year. A lot of them were good, but these are the ones that made the cut for this list – these ones, I would recommend to a stranger or acquaintance who happened to look particularly bookish.

(Actually, I don’t really know what makes someone look particularly bookish. But if they reference Lord of the Rings in casual conversation, that’s definitely a sign.)

fave books of 2023

These are almost all novels. Not because novels are what I mostly read, but apparently they’re what I mostly like. And that is somehow a new revelation to me, though I can go back to my lists from 2021 and 2022 and see that the scales tip consistently that direction, which surprises me because about two-thirds of what I read is non-fiction. But as I think about it, it’s probably because most of those are books I feel like I need to read for some reason or other, as opposed to what I want to read.

People ask this a lot, so let’s get it out of the way: How many books do you read at a time? I’ve answered it elsewhere but for the record, here’s my method, which I don’t necessarily recommend. You do what works for you.

I read at least ten books at a time. Ten books on my own, that is, not counting books I’m reading with the kids or ones we read aloud as a family. You might think that’s ridiculous, but I like the variety. And it sorta came about naturally as a homeschooling mom years ago when I was trying to keep ahead of a couple of my kids in their curricula. Those were the days of reading twenty or more books at a time, so you can see I’ve trimmed down considerably.

Also, I am a slow reader, so it usually takes me several months to get through each book. I don’t mind this with non-fiction; I think it helps me retain information better. I don’t necessarily recommend this for novels though (especially long ones, especially Dickens) because they need a fair start. I talk about that here.

If I haven’t lost you by now (all of the non-readers fled somewhere around the fourth paragraph), here’s my list of favorite books from 2023. Some of these are fantasy or fantasy-related; some of them include references to magic; some of them deal with mature themes and immoral behavior. This isn’t a list for younger kids or easily offended people looking for sterile content; it’s a list of great books that I liked. I don’t like horror or smut or tons of foul language; therefore none of these books contain those. So there’s your disclaimer.

Alright, here we go:

I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith

This book is a great example of “Don’t judge a book by its movie.” I almost rejected it right off because I had already seen the movie, but grabbed it anyway because someone somewhere highly recommended it. And I’m so glad I did. If you’re familiar with the concept of hygge, this book is it: Cozy, introspective, beautiful details. It’s about a very poor family who lives in a run-down castle, and their lives (and hearts, and relationships) begin to change when they meet their new landlords, two American brothers.

Blue Like Jazz by Don Miller

Am I the only Christian churchgoer in the 21st century who hadn’t already read this book? (Besides my husband, who also read it at my insistence.) Just in case I’m not and you also missed this one, here’s what I loved about it: It’s not like normal Christian non-fiction. It’s not filled with the same principles and analogies we’ve already read in dozens of other books or heard in dozens of other sermons. It’s not formulaic or repetitive. It doesn’t use those stupid block quotes on every other page just to try to get a point across.

(My opinion: If authors need those to get their reader’s attention, they’re not writing in a way that deserves that attention.)

Don Miller says some things that will challenge and possibly offend people who prefer those other Christian books as he shares his story of finding Jesus. But every time he stretches the tent pegs out a little, he comes solidly back to Biblical truth. The book is full of Kingdom principles, not just regurgitated Churchianity, and he made me laugh out loud often, like here:

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

This was one of the highlights of the year at Gaining Ground, and I wrote in length about it here and here because it’s one of my all-time faves and I’ve read it a bazillion times. (Okay fine. Five.) But if you don’t have time to read those posts, here’s the TL;DR version:

ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS EVERRRRR, YOU TOTALLY HAVE TO READ IT.

Hope that helps.

Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery

Also one of the favorites at Gaining Ground last year. Don’t be fooled; it’s not just a kid’s book and it’s also not just a girl’s book. We read it aloud as a family years ago, and Vin and our boys loved it (though some of them might not admit it now). This time around, it provoked some deep discussions in our group on childhood beliefs and coping methods, duty versus love, and the contrast of religion versus worshiping in spirit and truth.

I read this book several times as a kid and have read it at least three more times as an adult, but what stood out to me this time was the religious subculture that reveres duty more than a real relationship with God, and how that makes it hard to have real relationships with others and accept them as they are. We grow up in traditions that tend to trump truth because they’re more comfortable than vulnerability. But those attitudes are constantly confronted and exposed by Anne’s childlike, unabashed observations and her genuine admiration for a Creator who made the world such a beautiful place.

World Without Cancer by G. Edward Griffin

“It is an ominous fact that, each year, there are more people making a living from cancer than are dying from it.”

And that’s the crux of the book. Cancer is big business and a big part of that business is fighting natural methods (like vitamin B17, which this book centers on) that really work but can’t be patented and profited from, and replacing those with expensive and dangerous substitutes to perpetuate an addiction to expensive medical intervention.

The scientist is trained to search for complex answers and tends to look with smug amusement upon solutions that are not dependent upon his hard-earned skills.

To bring this a little closer to home, the average M.D. today has spent over ten years of intensive training to learn about health and disease. This educational process continues for as long as he practices his art. The greatest challenge to the medical profession today is cancer. If the solution to the cancer puzzle were to be found in the simple foods we eat (or don’t eat), then what other diseases might be traced to this cause? The implications are explosive. As one doctor put it so aptly, “Most of my medical training has been wasted. I’ve learned the wrong things!” And no one wants to discover that he has learned — or taught — the wrong things.

— G. Edward Griffin, from World Without Cancer

The Rains Came by Louis Bromfield

A cozy (but looong) novel set in 1930’s India about the culture, classes, and relationships toward the end of the British Empire. It’s incredibly well written and easy to read, with fascinating insight into human nature and personalities. And there’s a massive disaster (because…the rains came) so if you like books about survival and crisis, this is a good one.

Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

If you want an easy way to try Dickens or introduce your kids to him, Oliver Twist is a good start. It’s a reasonable length and, thanks to fewer side characters, the story is easier to follow than many of his other popular books. But it is not a clean, sweet children’s story, so keep in mind the sensitivity of a child you might read it to – there is abuse, brutality, theft, and murder in it. It alludes to prostitution and child trafficking (meaning, there are characters actively involved in those activities but those terms are not actually used). It also is an unrealistic, saccharine look at orphans and adoption – wait, why am I recommending this, anyway? Oh yes, because it’s Dickens, for crying out loud. In spite of all those disclaimers, it’s a fantastic story and totally worth reading.

Bleak House by Charles Dickens

Yes, I finished three books by Dickens in one year (actually four, but The Cricket on the Hearth didn’t make this list). Don’t be impressed though; it took over two years to finish this one because I read it aloud to my daughter, and the book is…eight hundred, nine hundred pages? Crazy long. But so good. Bleak House is the amazing story of a woman’s mysterious birth and her transition from loneliness to family.

His noble earnestness, his fidelity, his gallant shielding of her, his generous conquest of his own wrong and his own pride for her sake, are simply honorable, manly, and true. Nothing less worthy can be seen through the lustre of such qualities in the commonest mechanic, nothing less worthy can be seen in the best-born gentleman. In such a light both aspire alike, both rise alike, both children of the dust shine equally.

— Charles Dickens, Bleak House

Like most (all?) of Dickens’ books, it looks at class, poverty, and human nature; unlike the others, this one switches back and forth from a first person narrative to a third person omniscient narrative, and the effect lends to the mystery rather than creating any jarring disjointedness. Dickens is my fave and this is one of his best.

The Horse and His Boy by C.S. Lewis

This is book #3 in the Narnia series and I’ve probably mentioned or quoted it in a dozen posts already. I can still remember the moment I first read the big reveal in the story: We were camping in our early 20s, and I was reading aloud to Vin in the tent, and the hair on my arms stood up on end as I read about the Lion. I think I actually gasped aloud.

This is a life changing, mind blowing book, and it’s good for all ages. If you have ever felt constrained, like you were meant for a level of freedom you don’t really understand, or you’ve wondered why some things happen the way they do, or you’re in a season of pushing and pushing and you’re not sure if it’s doing any good…this is a great book for you.

Letter to the American Church by Eric Metaxas

This is a must read: a wake up call to a sleepy church that has fallen more into worshipping their comfort zone more than the Creator. Published in 2022, it speaks specifically to the times we are living in and particularly illustrates why it is important to speak out courageously against wrongdoing and not just protect yourself by silence and “going along to get along.” If people had followed such advice instead of caving to masks and protocols in 2020, a lot of tragedies, trauma, and loss could have been avoided, like this one.

The Betrothed by Alessandro Manzoni

Here’s an Italian historical novel that spans themes like cowardice, righteousness, cruelty, injustice, political power, and redemption. It is long and reads a little like Les Mis or The Hunchback of Notre Dame in its epic-ness, but without the 100-page sidetrack obsessions about Waterloo or flying buttresses. (Sorry, Mr. Hugo.)

I loved two things about this book in particular: It gives incredible insight into human nature and why people do (or don’t do) things, and it portrays beautiful, thorough redemption in a character who seems to be lost beyond hope.

The Two Towers & Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien

These are books 2 and 3 of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, which we finished in Gaining Ground during the first part of the year. They are full of battles, friendships, courage, steadfastness, grief, determination, banter, and heroism. You can’t start with these two of course, but since I mentioned The Fellowship of the Ring in last year’s post, these couldn’t be neglected.

(Fun fact: This series has impacted me so much that if you put “Tolkien” in the search bar, no less than a dozen posts show up.)

A Green and Ancient Light by Frederic S. Durbin

Ohhhh, this was a cozy book. A boy goes to live with his grandmother, and he discovers a land (and some friends) that change his life. There’s mystery and fantasy blended here in a quaint small town and a not-so-distant war, and a riddle that you might be able to figure out before the end. Maybe.

By The Great Horn Spoon by Sid Fleischman

I’ve read this a couple times to our kids and it’s a clever, fun story about a boy and a servant who sail around the horn to participate in the Gold Rush, and they have to solve many problems and seemingly impossible situations along the way. It goes fast and gives a good look at the times in a way that’s appropriate for kids.

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There you go! I hope you find some fun ones to try here. Happy reading. xo

P.S. Want a nerdy book mug to go with your bookish efforts this year? This one is in our shop, and you can see the full image below. If anyone gives you a disapproving glare while you’re reading, just hold it up in defense…and ask for a refill, since YOU are hard at work. ;)

P.P.S. Want to join us at Gaining Ground? Our discussion group on Telegram is here and I post articles once or twice a month here. I’ve also re-opened slots for writing coaching, and you can read about that here. Join us anytime — we’re currently in the middle of Lilith by George MacDonald, and we’ll start The Scarlet Pimpernel by Emma Orczy next month.