Category Archives: homeschooling

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.

___

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.

trying my patience: grace for others as we grow

Posted on by February 7, 2024

The kids were pulling presents out, and Kav held one up.

“Who’s this for?”

I pointed to the name written on it. “It starts with V. Who do you know starts with V?”

“Dad,” Finn answered for him.

Um, okay. Right, Dad starts with V…if his name is Vince, at least.

trying my patience: grace for others as we grow

We’re all working on the English language here in this house, even the parents who write and wrestle with commas for a living, and also the older kids in various levels of literature and language arts.

Reagan brings me her journal and holds it out to me. The sentence she’s trying to write is “Finn is coughing today,” and I bet you can guess which word is tripping her up. Because English is hard, and also stupid.

So far she’s tried “koring” and “caing” and I’m super excited that she’s figured out the “ing” part consistently. And I know you can’t sound out the word coughing because the letters don’t make sense, but she needs to at least try. She knows what the sounds are.

Often though, she doesn’t want to try, so we get these wild random spellings that aren’t even close. And I can’t blame her, sometimes laziness is my default, too.

I could just spell it for her. If she copied it enough times she would probably learn it, and learning is why we’re doing this, of course. But we’re not just wanting her to memorize; we’re wanting her to think, and solve, and resolve. And for that, she needs to sound it out. We want solving problems to be our (and her) default, not just memorizing answers.

And when she tries that, that’s when I’ll give her the real answer and explain that English is hard and stupid. (Okay fine, probably not.)

But I won’t step in if she’s not even trying. I’m not playing tricks on her; I’m teaching her that we can do hard things. Simultaneously, God is teaching me the same thing, because this slower-than-molasses progress tries my patience like you wouldn’t believe. Her way is not my way. But if I push her to do things my way, we take a small frustration and turn it into a much bigger conflict.

I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.

– Ephesians 4:1-3

I’m helping her navigate problems and grow, and we all do that growing and navigating at different levels. We understand things differently because we have different perspectives.

For example, most of us know exactly what’s happening in this verse:

…for [Jesus] was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill him. And when he is killed, after three days he will rise.”

– Mark 9:31

It’s pretty straightforward to us. We’ve read the Book, seen the crime play out; we know what happened and we’ve heard the story a zillion times.

But His disciples – those closest to Him – didn’t get it. They didn’t see what was coming, and this was their response:

But they did not understand the saying, and were afraid to ask him.

– Mark 9:32

To us, there’s no ambiguity. The way Jesus said it is the way it actually happened. But if we put ourselves in the disciples’ shoes, what He said was totally bewildering. Is He really talking about Himself? Is he being symbolic? Does “killed” really mean “killed,” or does it mean something else?

Are we dealing with something that’s straightforward, or is there more to it than that? Is “cough” spelled C-O-F-F, or does it have some of those confusing extra letters in it?

So in their misunderstanding, they respond in a way we totally relate to. They were afraid to ask Him. The Greek for fear here is “phobeo,” and it is a strong fear, meaning to put to flight, terrify, frighten, or incite dread. It’s the kind of fear that avoids and leads to more misunderstanding. I don’t want to know, so I won’t ask. So they didn’t.

Maybe they were too proud, too insecure to reveal their ignorance. Maybe they were hoping the situation would just go away. And we do those things too sometimes, glossing over and avoiding what makes us uncomfortable.

And sometimes we’re afraid to talk about things directly, so we talk behind each other’s back. We don’t want to look stupid or wrong, so we put other people down, instead. Which is interesting because in the very next verses, here’s what the disciples do:

And they came to Capernaum. And when [Jesus] was in the house he asked them, “What were you discussing on the way?” But they kept silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest.

– Mark 9:33-34

They competed. They puffed up. They pointed fingers. And then they avoided again, refusing to admit what they’d been doing. Fear, pride, and insecurity were still driving them, and they didn’t want to do the hard work of considering something unfamiliar and seemingly impossible.

Which leads me to something that happens in our house occasionally: Vin or I will explain something to one of our kids, and they’ll interrupt us with, “I know.”

(Right, this never happens at your house. Humor me.)

So Vin or I will answer, “No, if you knew, I wouldn’t need to be telling you,” and then continue what we were saying, hoping that this time they’re paying attention. Because we know the “I know” is blowing us off. Sometimes it’s insecurity and pride, pretending to understand something they don’t; and sometimes it’s laziness, not wanting to take the time to consider a different perspective. It could be any number of things, really. If solving problems were easy, we wouldn’t call them “problems” in the first place.

And we don’t solve problems in all the same ways, any more than we sound things out in the same ways. For example, I have no idea how they teach language arts in the South, where they are reckless with vowels. Excuse me for yelling, but I AM SO GLAD I’M NOT TEACHING MY KIDS ENGLISH IN THE SOUTH.

Because in some places there, for example, little i says ee, and big I says ah. As in, “Be steel and know that Ah am God.” If I’m quiet, I can hear this in the voice of my pastor’s wife.

But it’s not just vowels; it’s also syllables. In the South they remove them from some words (I was shocked and bewildered the first time I heard a Southerner pronounce “oil,” which to me should sound like “oy-ul” and not just “ull”) and then, messing with vowels again, they put extra syllables into other words where God never intended them.

How many syllables does “sin” have? Two if you’re from certain parts of Texas: See-in. Clap, clap. Two syllables. No big deal, we both agree sin is wrong. We just say it differently.

Months ago I went to a reception for a new friend and I didn’t know how to spell her name on the card I brought for her. So I asked a mutual friend. Unfortunately, that friend is from the South, and I don’t even know how to phonetically write what she said. But as she coached me through the spelling, it was sort of like, “Kye (rhymes with eye) – ah – ee – ayus –”

And I thought to myself, What’s an Ah? What the heck is an AYus? I knew it made perfect sense to her, but I had no clue. So I smiled, nodded, and happened to look down at the cake, which had our friend’s name on it in frosting.

If you’re from the South, I hope you know I love you. We’re saying the same things; we just say them differently.

Communication can be hard. Understanding and loving each other can also be hard. Jesus didn’t buy peace with compromise, but He also knew His disciples were befuddled, wrestling, and had their own insecurities and growth to overcome.

So He patiently let them wrestle – you think He didn’t already know what they were talking about along the way about who was the greatest? – and then He brought some gentle correction and perspective.

And he sat down and called the twelve. And he said to them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.” And he took a child and put him in the midst of them, and taking him in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.”

– Mark 9:35-37

The thing about little kids is that they love to learn. They don’t pretend to have all the answers. They love risk and wonder. They’re not afraid to ask questions and they’re not driven by pride or insecurity. And generally, if they’re with someone they trust, healthy kids are excited about the unfamiliar instead of afraid of it.

But when we see people doing something unfamiliar or unexpected, we tend to create circles of belonging and exclusion, like the disciples did in the very next verse:

John said to him, “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.”

– Mark 9:38

Jesus responds to their tattling with perspective and wisdom in His correction, because He knows they are still sounding this out, too. He doesn’t want them — or us — to just memorize; He wants us to broaden our perspectives and consider new things. He wants us to think, and solve, and resolve.

But Jesus said, “Do not stop him, for no one who does a mighty work in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. For the one who is not against us is for us. For truly, I say to you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you belong to Christ will by no means lose his reward.”

– Mark 9:39-41

We often misunderstand things that are perfectly clear when they’re not what we expected or predicted. But the Holy Spirit is teaching us, making us like Him, and He doesn’t want us to just memorize principles, because memorizing answers isn’t the same as solving problems. He wants us to walk in a manner worthy of our calling:

With all humility and gentleness. With patience. Bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.

(Even if we don’t know an A from an Ayus.)

To do that, we need to consider the unfamiliar, and do hard things. We need to grow deep and wide. We need to snuff out comparison with humility. We need to try our patience, stretching it farther than we thought it could go. And when we do, grace will press out our insecurities and pride and unnecessary conflicts, as light presses out darkness.

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getting it right: finding grace on unknown roads

Posted on by November 22, 2023

Reagan brings me her journal so I can check the sentence she just wrote, and some days this is how it goes:

I will be done the green Book with pretty soon.

She means her math book, the one I told you about months ago, the one she’s wanted to finish since forever so she can move on to the next book. And you probably see the same errors I did, so I remind her that the words need to be in the right order and that only the first letter of this sentence needs capitalized.

getting it right: finding grace on unknown roads

She returns with this:

I will be done with the grrrn Book pretty soon.

I’m not sure if this is on purpose or if she’s just being lazy. There’s no way to tell; sometimes she knows what she’s doing, and sometimes she doesn’t. But she does know how to spell “green” so I tell her to fix it, and she returns with this:

I will be done with the grenn Book pretty soon.

And then this:

I will be done with the green pook pretty soon.

You see it? I do, so I ask, “What does ‘book’ start with?”

“B,” she says, and I tell her to fix it.

I will be done with the green Book pretty soon.

Aaaand we’re back to uppercase. “How do you make a lowercase B?” I ask.

“I make…one…bump?” Her answers almost always sound like questions.

I will be done with the green Pook pretty soon.

At this point, I’m pretty sure it’s on purpose. Yes, it’s one bump but she knows which bump it’s supposed to be.

We could do this all day, fixing one thing while adding little errors elsewhere, refusing to get it right and never making progress.

“Do you want to do school today?” I finally ask.

“Yes!!” she says, urgently.

And that’s when she fixed the sentence and brought it back, written perfectly. What’s the saying? Seventh time is a charm. Something like that.

We all fight new levels and battles on many fronts, trying to get everything right, and the details can be overwhelming. For us, one of the big new levels in this season is that three of our kids turn 18 in the next five months (!) and we’re in the process of filing for guardianship for two of them. Afton is the other one, the biological one, who just has five months left at home with us because he wants to move out as soon as he can – sayonara, adios, I hope he misses us sometimes – but of the other two, Reagan will probably always be with us and Andrey needs at least a couple more years of help with daily responsibilities and care.

It’s what we signed up for, sorta. We just never really know what we’re signing up for until we’ve lived in it for a while, and that’s probably for the best.

So last week we had our second trip in as many months to the Palmer Courthouse – clerk’s office, to be exact – to submit paperwork for guardianship, and yes, it is as boring as it sounds.

We drove through town and stood in line and went to the counter and handed over documents. I raised my right hand under oath. This part is easy; I’ve done it twice now. It’s all the other paperwork, applications, deadlines, visits, and court hearings that I’m not sure about.

Then we drove back through town on the other side to go see Grandma, who turns 92 next week. We passed Afton on the road like ships in the night and waved; he was picking up a friend who lives in her neighborhood.

Grandma’s hair swoops to the left across her forehead, and she brushes it aside. My dad’s hair does the same thing, and mine does too unless I force it to submit to the attentions of a flat iron.

She sat in her rocker and I sat in the other, and she told us stories about her aunt and uncle who built barns, and how she lived right next door to her grandparents for the first ten years of her life, and how that was the best thing ever.

It makes sense to me that she adored those grandparents, because she grew up and became like them. She’s the grandparent I most adored, too.

She kept asking how the kids were doing, and I updated her on the guardianship and how we’ve also been trying to navigate Andrey’s health issues. I mentioned a couple months ago that he had a cyst that showed up again and needed oral surgery, but six appointments later we discovered that it’s not oral surgery but reconstructive plastic surgery that will be needed because of how the cyst has destroyed some of the bone structure in his face. And that’s a battle we never saw coming. In light of his 18th birthday and guardianship proceedings coming up, the surgeon recommended we hold off on that procedure until early next year when those are completed.

We all have our stuff in crazy overwhelming seasons. Yours is probably different from ours, but we overlap in the general mayhem of living on the brink of apocalypse.

It was a short visit and as we were leaving Grandma’s, a pickup stopped in the road and the guy inside waved as we passed. We reversed back and rolled down the window; he looked like Santa but with a short beard. Seeing us closer, he grinned and apologized.

“Oh gosh, I thought you were Thornsleys!”

I grinned back, leaning toward Vin’s window. “I am, I’m the oldest granddaughter.” It couldn’t have been my hair that gave it away; I’d wrestled the flat iron that morning.

“Well! I just know the boys,” he said. “I was comin’ to tell y’all about someone encroaching on your property –” and he went on about someone’s trailer that’s half on their own property but also half on “ours,” though I couldn’t tell which one of us he was talking about.

“Which of the boys is your dad, did you say?” he finally asked.

“I’m Greg’s daughter.”

“Oh, the fuel guy?” I nod. Small town. Most people know each other, and Grandma and Grandpa moved here when “the boys” were still in school, over fifty years ago.

We exchanged names and went on in our opposite directions, passing Afton again as he brought his friend back home. We wound along the old highway back toward town and I know these curves; I grew up on them, and there’s something so comforting and familiar about feeling them in the sunshine, gently swaying left and right as they follow the Matanuska River, while we navigate all these other curves we’re so new at.

It’s not easy to tell if you’re doing something right when you don’t have a template to follow. Pioneers know this, though I never saw myself as one of them until this year. But if you have followed a new or unusual calling without a map, role model, template, pattern, or any previous experience, you probably have wondered many times if you were going the right direction when it just felt like you were moving in circles. Homeschooling, adoption, self-employment, ministry, special needs parenting, whatever…transitional generations know this, the feeling of walking and wandering and weariness, looking for a signpost that confirms you’re on the right track.

Sometimes we know what we’re doing, and sometimes we don’t – and often, the answers we get sound more like questions.

Am I doing this right? has been the refrain of my life, and I am finally understanding that it’s the wrong question. For the last year or so He keeps asking me, “Do you want to be right, or righteous?” and now I understand why – because He’s teaching me to rest in the grace of His love for me, since He knows my heart wants to look like His.

So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.

– 1 John 4:16

When Reagan brings me her writing, I don’t expect her to have a perfect sentence every time. I expect her to do the things she knows, and to try with the rest. If she’s trying and fumbling but not doing it wrong on purpose, I have all the time in the world for her. It’s when she does things wrong on purpose – this is what we call transgressing – that I ask her if she really wants to make progress or if she’s deliberately self-sabotaging.

By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as he is so also are we in this world.

– 1 John 4:17

So I am learning that as long as my heart wants to be like His, instead of being consumed with perfection, afraid of punishment, He has all the grace in the world for me. He just wants me to resemble Him.

When my heart is at rest because it’s focused on the perfect love that casts out fear, I can trust that He’s giving me wisdom and helping me get things right, whatever the circumstances look like at any given moment. I don’t have to fear punishment for not knowing what I’m doing and for making imperfect efforts without a template to follow, because He loves our trying and investing and taking risks, and He rewards those efforts – but He rebuked the cowardly steward who buried his talent in safety.

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. We love because he first loved us.

– 1 John 4:18-19

I sat up late with a friend last night and confessed to her that I have often thought of every reason in the world why things were hard, or why they weren’t working out, or why I didn’t deserve this good thing, or why I did deserve that bad thing. I have spent years making excuses for the enemy, rather than resting in God’s love and agreeing with His will for me, because I felt like getting it right was my job.

But oh my gosh, it’s not.

Obedience and getting it right are not the same thing. As I’m typing this, it feels like a veil is tearing in the atmosphere. Sometimes we fear and worship all the details of obedience rather than fearing and worshiping God. Our performance goes up on a pedestal, and we climb right up there after it.

Breaking the lie is one thing, but renewing the mind is another. So the Lord pours us into this wide place with tight borders where it feels too overwhelming, like too much responsibility – and He tells us to claim the land. This is how He broadens our tent pegs, teaching us that we are bound by love, and therefore, free.

You gave a wide place for my steps under me,

and my feet did not slip.

– Psalm 18:36

A wide place for our steps seems like a great thing, but we tend to prefer more structure. Don’t believe me? When was the last time you had several good choices before you, and you hemmed and hawed about which one to take? That was a wide space.

Sometimes we’d rather have a small space and not carry the responsibility of choosing where our feet get planted. Sometimes we make ourselves small, so we feel safe, so we have less details to be responsible for, so we lower the risk of getting things wrong.

The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way; though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand.

– Psalm 37:23-24

So there is grace that covers our imperfections and unknowing, grace that flies in the face of our fear, pride, insecurity, and perfectionism. Gratitude and grace go together, because if we’re still earning our way, then we’re still taking credit…maybe not overtly, but in the back of our mind we’re still thinking, I did this.

That grace – knowing we couldn’t earn it, it’s all His love – removes the fear of shame and punishment and the next shoe dropping. No, we don’t deserve it, we deserved other. And even though the enemy convinced us that shame and grief was our penance for imperfection because we don’t deserve to be free, now we walk in gratitude, astounded by His many gifts we could never earn, achieve, or merit on our own.

But now we have them, because He paid for it.

It’s this kind of freedom that led us to celebrate at the ice cream shop that day, after the courthouse, after Grandma’s, after the stranger who recognized someone else in me. We pulled out of the ice cream shop and back onto the highway, and that’s when Afton passed us for the third time that day. We grinned shamelessly, waving our ice cream cones at him through the window as he drove past, ahead of us on the way home. And over these last few weeks I’ve felt dread and jadedness lifting, and a lightness that’s new in the midst of all these hard unknowns, because I am finally at a new level of tasting and seeing that the Lord is good.

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