In the last few weeks of brooding almost 40 birds in our bathroom, I’ve learned a few things about chicks and quail:
They will poop on new bedding before you even finish laying it down.
They
will poop in their new dish of food before you leave the room.
They
will poop in their water before you turn your back.
Aaaaand
quail look dead when they’re sleeping.
That
last point, at least, I knew ahead of time, and it’s a good thing I
did. During the first week there was often a moment of panic as we
looked in the brooder to see them passed out, collapsed on their
sides, legs out. But that’s just how they sleep.
They’re great, though: snuggly, nosy, clumsy, and messy. The water dish was their favorite hangout when they were small enough to walk in it – sometimes for drinking, but mostly for wading and splashing, and then tracking little wet toe prints everywhere. They thought they were ducks, though I told them otherwise.
We
lost one within hours of bringing them home (truly dead quail differ
from sleeping quail in that they’re cold, stiff, and not breathing)
but the other 19 are happy and healthy in spite of our complete lack
of experience. A week after we got the quail, our chicks arrived, and
even the sick one we thought we’d lose managed to pull through. We
call her Toughie.
And,
can I interrupt this bird trivia to just point out how amazing that
is? Isn’t it incredible that we can just take something on that
we’ve never done before, and still muddle through with success?
I
mean, it hasn’t been super easy. We’ve spent months researching,
learning, gathering supplies, and building shelters for them. But as
with most things, deciding to do the work is almost harder
than actually doing the work.
During the first week, I often woke up at 3 am, anxious about how they were doing. I ran downstairs, opened the door, and heard their soft, happy twittering; they were fine, all nineteen, scattered and sleeping and eating and climbing all over each other. They thought they were puppies, even though I reminded them they are quail.
But there was that one time they weren’t all fine…when we went from twenty to nineteen because one of them was cold and stiff under the heat lamp. So for a split second when I opened the door and saw them asleep, looking dead, I would get a little nervous. We remember those times when things weren’t fine, and try to guard ourselves against the uglier parts of normal.
Because it’s not just quail that look dead when they’re sleeping: See also deciduous trees, rose bushes, and hobbies that get shoved to the back of the closet. But bigger things, too – like creativity, achievement, solutions, dreams, and goals. Certain relationships. Breakthrough.
Each
time one of those falls asleep, we wonder if it’s actually dead.
Should we give up on it? Because we’ve seen death, and it leaves a
little scar of trust issues and anxiety to work through every time we
encounter anything that resembles it. Is this worth resuscitating?
Do we nurse it back to health? Do we keep feeding and watering it in
faith, or do we pull the plug and move on to the other 19 needs
vying for our attention?
Some
things just need time and surrender, but others need persistent
attention.
For example, my houseplant that we affectionately call Anne Shirley. As soon as she (or it, I don’t care – don’t come to me with pronoun nonsense) feels the slightest bit parched or neglected, she wilts in the depths of despair.
The first time it happened, I thought I killed her for sure. Woomp – all leaves down, this one’s a goner.
But I felt the stems, and they seemed okay. So I gave her some water, and lo and behold – the next day, Anne Shirley was as perky as ever. Such a drama queen.
(My glorious fern, on the other hand, is a different story. We’ve started calling her Eleanor – as in, Dashwood – because if she’s neglected she will just slowly turn paler and paler, suffering in silence.)
So
some things must be watered, and others must be waited for.
And many require both. We water in the waiting, not knowing how long it will take to see life again. These are the situations the Lord must move in, because you cannot force growth – overwatering results in death as much as neglect does – and He must perform the rescue because we’ve tried everything and still it is stiff and cold, not breathing: A loved one’s salvation, a child’s return, a favorable ruling. After we’ve done everything we know to do, we’re desperate for what only He can do.
And he said to them, “Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. And while they still disbelieved for joy and were marveling, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?”
– Luke 24:38-41, ESV
This life of watering and waiting is where faith and obedience intersect. It is the lesson of walking steadily on without constantly checking progress, checking email, checking notifications, checking the mailbox. Faith and obedience knows the answer is coming, and does not have to constantly ask “Are we there yet?” like a kid on a road trip.
You’ve done and are doing what you need to do. So give them time, they’ll perk up soon. Those situations might think they’re dead —- you need to remind them they are alive.
The
trees outside know; the pussywillows are growing again. The time for
things to wake up is here.
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Yeah, I have no idea what any of it means, either.
Sorry.
Usually I write from my desk – more on that in a
second – but lately I get a lot of writing done during my kids’ martial arts
class. At first, the random, sudden shouts of “HAH!” startled me, but
now I’m good. If you’ve been reading here throughout the last year, many of the
posts and newsletters were drafted from this ugly chair I’m sitting in now
while listening to the instructions, thumps, and yells of the class.
The instructor was delayed last week, so the highest-ranking
student took charge and challenged one of my kids to lead the class in warmups.
No big deal, just tell everyone to do jumping jacks or whatever.
But it required a shift in stance: standing in front
of peers instead of next to them. And there was immediate resistance and
balking. I tried to repress a smile, and failed.
I know this kid. I know both sides of the challenge
and resistance. And after class, I went up to that brown belt student and thanked
him for pushing my kid to do hard things.
I resist these things all the time though, too. Dumb
things. For example: Because of how the light falls from all the windows in the
room, I have wanted to rearrange my office for ages. But I hate rearranging
furniture and won’t do it unless it’s absolutely necessary (like
when you add a woodstove). Once I have things the way I like
them, I like them to stay that way. Don’t we all?
But we finally switched things around and I love it.
Love, love, love it. Should’ve done it years ago. The space fits better, the
light falls easier, and I love being in there.
So when Kav’s cast came off a couple weeks ago…well,
I have a confession to make. I know this sounds terrible, but I was kind of
hoping it would stay on for a while longer.
Isn’t that awful? Because of course I want
him well. Of course I want his arm healed enough to convince the doctor he
no longer needs it. I want Kav to run and play without its cumbersome weight,
and to wear long sleeved shirts again, and to take baths without having to cover
it with a plastic bag. I want him to be cast-free.
Moms get this sudden rush of adrenaline whenever our
kids hurt themselves. If they fall, we also often feel pain; if I see one of
our kids trip on the stairs and hit their knees, I feel a twinge in my knees,
too.
Ever since Kav’s accident, that flood comes to me over
the smallest stumble (and he’s three, so he’s constantly running, crashing into
things, tumbling, doing all the things that little guys do). I have to remind
myself that he’s okay. He’s not broken. We don’t have to go back to the
hospital. We don’t have to endure that all over again.
When I noticed this anxiety shortly after the
accident and confessed it to a friend, she said I may need to come to grips
with surrendering ourselves to the Lord in a whole new way, to trust Him with
our safety. We’ve had 21 years of parenting kids without breaking anything, and
in one afternoon that changed. Suddenly, I saw us differently: Breakable.
Vulnerable. Fragile. Exposed. Costly.
So I had sorta hoped his cast would stay on for
another couple of weeks to allay some of that. I found myself trusting the cast
to protect him from reinjuring himself; I was so grateful it was there to
absorb the brunt of his activity.
But do I trust God to protect him? Yes. I think so.
Mostly.
I want to, at least.
It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes.
– Psalm 118:8-9
This all comes at the same time our oldest daughter
is getting her license and driving in the snow and looking at new jobs and
graduating and talking (so much talking) about moving out to live on her own.
I used to be fine with it. Kids have moved out of
their parents’ homes since the beginning of time, and this isn’t the first kid
of ours who will have done so. But, hey – most of the time when kids grow up
and move out on their own, it’s not when the globe is on the brink of the
Apocalypse. (Although she is one of the kids in that martial arts class,
so there’s that.)
In so many ways it has been a stretching season of
the Lord calling us to see differently: Stand here, in front. Turn around,
look over here. Don’t see what your feelings are telling you, see what I’m
telling you.
“Look for the valleys, the green places, and fly through them. There will always be a way through.” – C.S. Lewis, The Magician’s Nephew
I’ve been going back again and again to this verse:
This is serious. Do not fear is a command, not a suggestion, for good reason. Fear doesn’t care for permission; it just wants access. The counterfeit picture of what we’re afraid of may be the key that permits that access.
But agreeing with God, picturing the victory and trusting Him for what He has promised, strips the enemy of power he will wrest from us otherwise. Trusting God is the fatal, final blow that puts fear out of our misery.
We see exposure and vulnerability in new endeavors and stretching seasons, but God sees strength and fearlessness. We’d rather not deal with more changes, but God is bringing alignment for healing and victory. I’m tired of having my safe places peered into, and exercising muscles that have been resting and healing. But God sees that I’m ready to do hard things again.
“When things go wrong, you’ll find they usually go on getting worse for some time; but when things once start going right they often go on getting better and better.” – C.S. Lewis, The Magician’s Nephew
Kav is running and playing. He has full movement and extension of his arm and fingers. He falls sometimes, but he gets up every time and keeps going. I’m noticing the rush of adrenaline diminish.
I still don’t usually like standing in front, feeling vulnerable while people look at me. But we often resist change when it’s exactly what we need, and we will love the results if we surrender to them.
He’s saying, Hey Love,I’m peeling back layers of shelter because you’re ready to expand and advance.
Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
– Matthew 6:10
It requires a shift in stance so we can see what He does. Because
He’s the Instructor, saying, Go. Step through. Bring it down here.
We’ve had several
windstorms already this winter but lucked out during the last one, when most of
the Valley lost power. We, of course, had our own drama at that time so it was a huge blessing we didn’t also
have to deal with no heat, hot water, or electricity. But we lost power earlier
in the year enough times to decide that a woodstove was a necessity sooner
rather than later.
When the power went
out during the first windstorm last fall, it was late afternoon and we were
quickly losing daylight. I was reading, moving closer and closer to the window
so the light would hit the page at the best angle.
This was before the first real snowfall, so the ground didn’t reflect any light. Outside, an old leaf flew up and caught on the branch of a tree, adopted temporarily before letting go and flitting like a bird to another tree where it held again for a minute before a gust blew it away.
Inside, the light kept fading, and even though I was trying to read HannahFowler fast enough to finish the chapter before darkness made it impossible, it was a losing battle. It was just like when you stay up too late, trying to finish a chapter before exhaustion hits. But there wasn’t enough light, so I gave up and lit candles and started putting together a cold dinner.
My goal was to read 52 books last year. I read 54. It’s my
record; the only other time I came that close was 21 years ago which was the
first year I was a mother, when I was nursing a baby with reflux 32 hours a
day. This year my goal is higher but so far it’s off to a slower start – I’ve
only marked off one book so far – though I read
several at a time and could feasibly knock out six before February. We’ll
see.
Here are my favorites from last year: The ones I loved, the ones I’ll read again, and the ones that I think could change the world if more people read them. Not every book fits in all those categories (though the ones by C.S. Lewis do, of course). And in full disclosure, the first two books on this list are ones I’m still reading. But I love them so much that you get them on this list now so you can grab them sooner rather than later if you want to.
The Vision of the Anointed by Thomas Sowell:
I quoted this one twice in my last post
with this warning: “Thomas Sowell is crazy smart, and I admit it helps to
have a drink handy while reading him (I mean coffee, not wine, or don’t
bother).” So you’ve been warned. But this is one that I think could change
the world if more people read it. He wrote it about 20 years ago, but you’d
never know that if the copyright page didn’t tell you; it seems like he’s
writing about the days we’re living through now. Here:
Human beings have been making mistakes and committing sins as long as there have been human beings. The great catastrophes of history have usually involved much more than that. Typically, there has been an additional and crucial ingredient — some method by which feedback from reality has been prevented, so that a dangerous course of action could be blindly continued to a fatal conclusion.
— Thomas Sowell, The Vision of the Anointed
An Everlasting Mealby Tamar Adler:
I’ve read a lot of cooking and foodie books over the last
few years and this is my new favorite. I will come back to it again and again
(and I already do, as I’m cooking) – she is not only a beautiful, gifted
writer, but she cooks the way I do (except she’s a chef, so, you know, tiny
difference) and reading this book validates my quirks in the kitchen. I want to
cook every time I read it. So if you don’t like to cook, give it to your
spouse and see if it does the same thing. You’re welcome.
Howards End by E.M. Forster:
I don’t know if I loved this book because I loved the new movie version first
or if I would’ve loved the book more (or less) had I read it first before
watching it. It’s one of those that has major lessons in it about human nature
for those who read slowly enough to learn them. But if you’re not sure about
reading it, try the most recent version of the movie because it is also wonderful,
and see if that convinces you. Because, forget Howards End, I want to live in the
Schlegel’s London flat full of stuffed, turquoise bookshelves.
Pity, if one may generalize, is at the bottom of woman. When men like us, it is for our better qualities, and however tender their liking, we dare not be unworthy of it, or they will quietly let us go. But unworthiness stimulates woman. It brings out her deeper nature, for good or evil.
– E. M. Forster, Howards End
Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens
This was my second go-round with Nicholas Nickleby and I forced my family to come with me. Most of them Some of them liked it. To be fair, it took us over two years to get through the whole thing because it’s over 800 pages and we would read aloud only a few times a month over the squalls of a baby who became a toddler while we went through it. Using Librivox during long drives to Palmer helped, and if you like audio, there’s a terrific version here.
Here’s why I love Nicholas Nickleby, and it’s not just because it’s by Dickens (though he’s my favorite and that’s a pretty good reason): I love Nicholas because he does what you want him to. He stands up for his sister, he confronts cruelty, he is patient and tender with the broken, and best of all, when someone needs horsewhipped, he’s not afraid to do it. *glares disgustedly at David Copperfield*
The Awakening of Miss Prim by Natalia
Sanmartin Fenollera
I do not like modern fiction, almost ever, and this was an
exception. It is a cozy, contemplative, bookish story that makes you want to
move to the town it takes place in. But let me do you a favor and tell you right
now that the Man in the Wingchair never gets a real name, which surprised and
annoyed me – I had been waiting to discover his name for the entire book. So
I’m telling you now to prevent you from expecting it and being disappointed,
thereby freeing you to love this otherwise delightful, beautiful, slightly
nerdy book.
Hannah Fowler by Janice Holt Giles
This was an ugly old hardcover sitting on my shelf that I
must’ve picked up at a thrift store years ago. I happened to pull it off the
shelf one day and out of curiosity read the first sentence, and then the next,
and then the next…and this is a good way to find the next book you want to
read. If you’re not bored in those first sentences, it’s worth a go.
I learned something new in every chapter about pioneering
life, living outdoors, and homesteading. Hannah is a strong, thoughtful
character, and as I read I wondered if she was strong or gutsy enough to do the
things I was hoping she would…and she did.
Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame
I have said so much about Wind in the Willows here
already. It’s in this post,
and this
post, and this book,
and all I have left to tell you is that it gets better and better the more
times you read it, so please get going on it and you won’t be sorry. This was
probably my fourth or fifth time through. If you can read it out loud to your
kids and give Toad a ridiculous voice, all the better.
A Brutal Justice by Jess Corban
Quick backstory: I found this book through an online readers group when someone mentioned a hate-fest of people leaving 1-star reviews for its Christian author because one reviewer said her books were full of homophobic content. So I bought the books (it’s a series of two) to see for myself, and lo and behold…the haters were wrong, as they often are. Here’s my review of the first one, which will also tell you a little about the second one:
This book both was and wasn’t what I expected, but it was nothing like what all the angry, misinformed 1-star reviews tout it as (most of whom admit they never even read the book, which is obvious to those of us who have…and ironically meshes well with the point of the story).
That point of the story is that women, acting in fear and anger and hatred, can be overbearing and cruel. Attempting to fix one huge problem by going in the extreme opposite direction is foolish and leads to serious consequences. Those consequences need to be faced and acknowledged, not ignored out of fear, insecurity, or narcissism.
I don’t usually like young adult books or dystopian novels, and the writing in this book is definitely not my style. (The writing in the second book improves by several notches, in my opinion.) But the storyline is fascinating, and the way both men and women are honored for their distinctness is something that I’ve thought about for days, and will continue to do so.
So, back to my review of the second book in the series, which is the one I loved: Remember what I said about not liking modern fiction? This was another exception that has me rethinking my prejudice. The concepts, characters, and setting were fascinating, and the turns of the story were super satisfying. The first book sets the stage for the story, but this is the one that I didn’t want to end.
Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis
C.S. Lewis gets a lot of credit for Oh My Soul
because this book shaped much of it (or, it shaped much of me as I was writing
it) and I come back to Mere Christianity every five years or so because
it is so rich, I want the truths to sink into me and stay there. My high
schoolers (three so far) each read it twice during school – once as freshmen or
sophomores, and again as seniors.
“A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is… A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have lived a sheltered life by always giving in.”
– C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
The Whole-Brain Child by Daniel Siegel and
Tina Payne Bryson
I don’t read many parenting books anymore. It’s definitely
not because I feel like I have this parenting gig nailed already (I am still
trying to remember to get my little kids in the bath at least twice a week) but
because parenting books can be so discouraging. Overwhelming. Condescending and
condemning, in a nicey, psychobabble-laced-with-Christianese kind of way. And
I’m good enough at fighting all those feelings without paying $17.95 and
reading 220 pages to pound it in, thankyouverymuch.
This book was not like that, though. This book was
empowering and encouraging and equipping, and so full of ideas and information
that it is worth keeping on a low shelf where you can reach it often and refer
back to. It also has a terrific section in each chapter that you can read with
your kid to empower, encourage, and equip them as they learn to understand how
their brain works, too.
The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim
Another book that you might know better by the movie. I watched the movie years ago and forgot about it, which was a blessing as I read the book because I didn’t remember any discrepancies that irritated me. Iree read the book shortly after I did and then we rewatched the movie and noticed a few. They were, overall, forgivable, and the movie still stands as a good one. But read the book first. It is cozy and quirky in some of the same ways as The Awakening of Miss Prim, but less bookish, more of a study in human nature, and guaranteed to make you laugh out loud at least a few times.
Bandersnatch by Diana Pavlac Glyer
This book delves into the friendships, collaborations, and
works of C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and the rest of the Inklings – how they
inspired, encouraged, criticized, supported, and argued with each other, and
became more of who we know them to be because of how they lived out the concept
of “iron sharpening iron” in a particularly literary way. Vin, Iree, and I all
read this last year and each of us loved it.
As we have seen, the Inklings provided inspiration to start new projects; offered support in times of confusion; shaped the direction of one another’s stories; criticized drafts so severely that books were abandoned; changed what they wrote in anticipation of the groups response; initiated competition that spurred their productivity; edited ragged rough drafts and polished fine ones; worked together to produce joint projects; created fictionalized characters based upon one another….And their experiences point to a much larger truth: creativity thrives in community.
– Diana Pavlac Glyer, Bandersnatch
The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis
I read this one last year with a group of friends, and I think I can speak for all of us when I say…it sorta kicked our butts. It wasn’t what I expected, which is ironic because this was my second time reading it. The first time was years (yeeeeears) ago, and I remember it being funny, clever, intriguing, and insightful. And this time it was all that, but deeper, more intense, and way more challenging. Maybe it’s the times we’re living in that brought up a lot more than I noticed the first time I read it. It is a study on human nature, and it is your nature that you’ll examine as you read it. But done right, it leads to more wholeness, and that’s where we want to go.
“When He [God] talks of their losing their selves, He means only abandoning the clamour of self-will; once they have done that, He really gives them back all their personality, and boasts (I am afraid, sincerely) that when they are wholly His they will be more themselves than ever.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters
Money For Nothing by P.G. Wodehouse
This is a brief honorable mention which gets credit for
making me laugh so hard that I made ridiculous little desperate, gasping noises
because it was 1 am and I was scared of waking up the kids. The argument with
the Emily the dog…Hugo catching the burglar while reciting lines from Julius
Caesar…Mr. Carmody among the birds…this one’s worth trying. Just don’t blame me
if you stay up too late reading and wake up your kids by laughing out loud. I
already warned you.
So there you go. We’re ready for a big power outage now; we rearranged our bookshelves and dedicated my favorite little corner to our new woodstove. But if you need more book recommendations, all of our books are here. :)
