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Cinderella in Cincinnati: Review of If the Shoe Fits by Sandra D. Bricker

July 24, 2013

When it comes to fiction, I lean more toward historical, although I’m slowly being wooed to the contemporary romance genre.

So, when I saw the trailer for If the Shoe Fits by Sandra D. Bricker, I decided to give it a try. (Disclosure: I received a free copy of the book from Moody/River North in exchange for my review.)

Take a look:

[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/67661585 w=400&h=300]

I’m always intrigued by a new take on a familiar fairy tale, and this one flips the story with the woman looking for the man who fits the boot she finds with a toolbox in an intersection after a near-collision. Julianne and her best friend from childhood Will have opened their own law firm in Cincinnati. Will has been in love with Julianne for 20 years, and she’s clueless. Her glimpse of the guy at the intersection sends her on a quest to find out if he’s her missing Prince Charming.

I mostly felt sorry for both characters. Will seems a little bit pathetic, unwillingly to risk the friendship to tell her how he feels meanwhile always being her back-up date to work functions. He makes a couple of bold moves during the story, and I found myself liking him best when he did. Julianne I couldn’t make myself like. She’s a little flighty and basically can’t see what’s right in front of her in Will. She has a good heart and does many likable things, but I just couldn’t connect with her.

This was my first Sandra Bricker novel, and I thought it was just okay. I got a little tired of reading about Julianne’s “honey-blond hair” and the flow of the story was not smooth. The author adds a lot of adverbs to her descriptions of the character’s speech, and I found myself hung up on those words.

I wanted to see it through to the end because–duh!–everyone wants a happy ending, but even that left me a little bit disappointed.

Overall, I think I just wanted more. I wanted more emotion from both characters and more tension in their story. There weren’t a lot of surprises throughout. I might still give this author another chance on some of her other books, but this is not the kind of book that would convince me to read contemporary romance.

To end on a positive note: it’s a light read with some funny scenes. I could see certain scenes played out like a sitcom.

What we've been up to

July 20, 2013

So, it’s been two weeks since this called “moving” happened to us.

And I say it that way because that’s how it feels. Like it happened to us and we didn’t have much to do with any of it.

Early on a Saturday morning, a bunch of people showed up at our old house to load up our big stuff.

Okay, who am I kidding? They loaded up most of our stuff. And did it with such skill and precision that I was left speechless. (Our front lawn looked like we were having the world’s largest garage sale, yet I was assured by our new friends that it would all fit. They were right.)

In two hours we had cleared the old house and most of the stuff we wanted to take with us and were on our way to our new place, where a couple more friends met us and Phil’s boss brought Chick-fil-A sandwiches. (I don’t think it was my imagination that the crew worked a little faster when they heard the CFA was coming.) Such a blessing. In less than an hour at the new place, all the vehicles and the trailer were unloaded and by 12:30 Phil and I were on our own at the new place. Tired. Overwhelmed. And so, so thankful.

See, these people who showed up, most of them we barely know. They’re from our new church and while we know names and faces and Phil has spent some time with some of them, they still aren’t close friends or anything. I was so humbled by their willingness to drive up to our old house and spend a morning helping us move. I didn’t feel like we’d earned that. (Like we have to earn kindness.) They just totally knocked our socks off.

So, we’ve been unpacking. And cleaning. And donating. And decluttering.

And loving our new place.

Our second night there, we saw this lovely sunset behind our house. Swoon.

We’re slowly making it a home.

The week after the move, we cleaned up and cleaned out the old house and turned in our keys. A few days later, Phil and I left for Nashville for a marriage conference. We had a little free time.

We walked around the park where Nashville’s replica of The Parthenon is. And we ate dinner at The Loveless Cafe.

This is the face Phil makes when he’s eating the best piece of ham he’s ever had in his life. Southern soul food at its best. And totally worth the two-hour wait to be seated. (Which nearly caused us to have a “loveless” marriage as we disagreed over what to do when faced with that long of a wait.)

And on our way to breakfast Sunday morning, we walked downtown, which smells like beer and urine after what I assume was a typical Saturday night. It’s quieter on a Sunday morning but the smell is something I won’t soon forget.

We passed the Ryman, which reminds me that I know little to nothing about music history.

And we stopped at the river to take a picture of us, something we rarely do right now, especially when life has been so busy and full.

And after a rendezvous with my parents, we got the kids back after two weeks and made our way back toward Pennsylvania.

We stopped at the rest area, just across the border and took this picture to remind us of how far we’d come.

Five years ago, it looked something like this.

So. Much. Has changed.

That’s a little of what we’ve been up to. I hope to be back to blogging regularly in August. (At which time our daughter will be going off to kindergarten. Because we haven’t had enough change this year.)

Thanks for sticking with us on this crazy rollercoaster journey we call our life.

What no one talks about: Review of The Spiritual Danger of Doing Good by Peter Greer

July 18, 2013

No one tells you when you’re signing up for nursery duty or applying to be a missionary or answering a call to pastoral ministry that it might be spiritually dangerous.

But as Peter Greer writes in his new book The Spiritual Danger of Doing Good, Christian service, whether paid or volunteer, ought to come with a warning label. (Disclaimer: I received a free advanced reading copy of the book in exchange for my honest review.)

While charity can harm others, doing good can also wreak havoc on us. … Without evaluating our motives, it is possible to love our service more than we love our Savior.

Greer is the CEO of HOPE International, a nonprofit that focuses on microfinance as a means to end physical and spiritual poverty. His book is full of personal experiences of doing good for the wrong reasons with the wrong motive and paints an honest picture of what can happen in a person’s life, family and ministry when service takes precedence over everything else.

The book is funny and a little bit self-deprecating. Greer gives readers no reason to think he’s got it all together or is a saint when it comes to serving for the right reasons. Even as the CEO of a nonprofit, he’s still a human. He includes stories of others who have experienced personal failure while their ministry was thriving. It’s a fascinating and quick read, though by no means is it an “easy” read.

The Spiritual Danger of Doing Good is a warning as well as an encouragement to check your ego, your motives, and your personal relationships often in the midst of whatever job or ministry God calls you to. I wish this book had been published five years ago, before my husband went to seminary. And I’d recommend it to anyone who serves in the local church, as a longtime volunteer or full-time paid staff.

Greer’s message is that important.

Practical, applicable, relevant, The Spiritual Danger of Doing Good is not to be missed. And each chapter concludes with a link to bonus material on Greer’s Web site in the form of photos and videos. I look forward to viewing these “extras.”

For more about Greer, visit his Website www.peterkgreer.com.

Worth the wait: Review of Stealing the Preacher by Karen Witemeyer

July 17, 2013

In late April, I met Karen Witemeyer at a writing conference. I’d read two of her books in preparation for the writing conference so I could be familiar with her work, and I enjoyed the books, our conversation and her writing expertise so much, I bought another of her books and eagerly awaited the release of her newest, Stealing the Preacher. I entered giveaways aplenty to try to win myself a copy but no such luck. In the end, I received a free digital copy from Bethany House Publishers in exchange for my review. Not a bad deal.

And let me tell you, this book was worth the wait, which is also part of the theme I took away from it.

Crockett Archer (who is one of the brothers from Short-Straw Bride, a story that reminded me of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers) is on his way to audition for a preaching job when the train he’s riding on is stopped by bandits who aren’t out for material possessions. They’re looking for a preacher. Him. Ex-outlaw Silas Robbins will do anything for his only daughter Joanna, including holding up a train and kidnapping a preacher. Joanna’s church has set empty for two years and what she wants more than anything is a preacher to fill the pulpit and to revive the church. When her father arrives home with a preacher in tow–one he kidnapped–Joanna is both outraged and hopeful. Is Crockett Archer the man she prayed for?

Witemeyer sets her stories in 19th century Texas and I love the setting. Her characters are vivid, as well, and I find myself smiling when I read her books. They’re fun, first of all, and full of wholesome romance. Crockett is dreamy–maybe I’m biased because I married a preacher!–and Joanna is relatable because she doesn’t see the beauty in herself that others see. I get that.

At the start of the story, Crockett has a plan for his life, and he’s disappointed when it doesn’t turn out the way he expected. I’ve been there, too. Our ministry journey hasn’t been what I expected, and it’s easy to be bitter about that. But Crockett submits to the Lord’s leading and catches a vision for his purpose elsewhere. It’s an inspiring story of seeing the good in a situation even when it’s not what you thought it would be.

And this is the other thing I love about Witemeyer’s stories: they’re not just historical and romantic–they’re spiritual. And not just surfacey stuff. Woven throughout her stories are deeper issues of calling, trust, submission, forgiveness and truth, but they aren’t forced themes.

Witemeyer is a skilled storyteller and encouraging writer. If you’ve yet to pick up one of her books, now is the time.

P.S. I don’t always watch book trailers, but this one is worth a look!

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ALw1yauYcxI]

St. Francis 101: Review of Chasing Francis by Ian Morgan Cron

July 10, 2013

Everything I knew about St. Francis of Assisi before reading Chasing Francis can be summed up in these words:

I may be an evangelical Protestant, but I know that Francis is a Catholic saint from the thirteenth century who’s famous for holding up concrete birdbaths in people’s backyards. (38)

And with that, Ian Morgan Cron captured my heart with his wit, writing style and cleverly convicting observations about the church today. (Disclaimer: I received a free copy of Chasing Francis from Zondervan through the Booksneeze program in exchange for my honest review.)

Chasing Francis is fiction but it reads like a memoir. Chase Falson is an evangelical pastor of a New England church he started, and his faith is crumbling. When he makes some controversial remarks in a sermon, he’s asked to take a leave of absence. Not knowing where else to turn, he calls his Uncle Kenny, a Franciscan priest living in Italy, who encourages him to travel to Italy to meet someone who can help him through his time of doubting.

He’s surprised to learn that the person his uncle had in mind was St. Francis of Assisi. The rest of the book is an account of Chase’s pilgrimage to sites important in Francis’ life and the life of the Church.

How much did I love this book? I recommended it to three people before I was halfway through it. It’s that good. I’ve heard good things about Cron’s memoir, Jesus, My Father, the CIA and Me, but I haven’t read it yet. “Yet” being the key word. It’ll be on my list now.

Not only is Chasing Francis a convicting look at the state of the Church today, it’s also a primer on the life of St. Francis. The book includes a study guide at the end with extra snippets of information about Francis’ life and thought-provoking discussion questions. I would love to read this book in a group and discuss the study at the end. I dog-eared dozens of pages, sometimes two per page, to record the wisdom written there.

Two of my favorite lines that relate to the setting of the story and give you an idea of Cron’s genius:

Gelato is what heaven would taste like if someone froze it and crammed it into a paper cup. (124)

When God created language, he neglected to include words that could do justice to the dazzling beauty of the old city of Florence. (36)

A warning: Chasing Francis will create a longing in you. A longing for authenticity, for beauty, for encountering God outside of the walls of your local church. Be prepared to desire a pilgrimage of your own. But don’t let that scare you. Chasing Francis is a must-read for the Church today. Surprisingly (or maybe not) we can learn a lot from a long-dead Catholic saint.

What happens when God says 'go': Review of Road Trip to Redemption by Brad Mathias

July 3, 2013

Brad Mathias’ family survived a crisis due to his infidelity when God miraculously restored his marriage and transformed his life. Eight years after that life-changing event, the Mathias family would find itself in crisis again when their middle child, Bethany, began to withdraw from everyone and everything she used to enjoy.

Responding to a prompt from God to ask her what she was hiding, Brad and his wife, Paige, discovered the root of her withdrawal, a close call with death and an eye-opening revelation that they were not as engaged with their children as they could be.

One of the ways God led them in healing and restoration was to take a two-week roadtrip to Canada and the western United States to experience nature and be together as a family.

It’s a journey Mathias chronicles in his book Road Trip to Redemption. (Disclaimer: In exchange for my review, I received a free copy of the book from Tyndale House Publishers through the Tyndale Blog Network.)

The first section of the book is some backstory and parenting principles, and while I found them helpful, I was eager to hear about the road trip and the experiences the family had traveling together. So, the first 100 pages were a little slow for me.

But sticking with it paid off. The road trip chapters are well worth the first part of the book (which gives the road trip context) and are inspiring. Mathias’ love for his children and his desire for them to see God for themselves in a personal way in their lives is evident. We’ve experienced one road trip vacation as a family with our young children and Mathias’ tales of their trip made me eager to take our kids on trips as they grow older.

The point of the book, however, is not to say that every family needs to pack up and head out on a road trip, although Mathias provides some tips and plans in the back of the book for that. Instead, he encourages families to be in tune to the uniqueness of their personalities and engage kids where they are. One of the reasons this road trip was necessary for Mathias’ family was the disconnect between the parents and what was really going on with the kids.

In the final chapter, Mathias ties the road trip to parenting and what all parents can learn from this experience.

Overall, I enjoyed the book, which contains pictures of their trip and journal entries from Paige and the kids, and found it a helpful reminder to invest in my kids and my marriage and not become too busy or out of touch that I can’t see what’s really going on. I was inspired by Mathias’ obedience to God when he heard things that didn’t seem to make sense but turned out to be some of the most special experiences of the trip.

For more, check out http://roadtripparenting.wordpress.com/

Moving, Week 2: the highlights

June 29, 2013

Oh, how I wish I could say that after last week’s progress, this week we’re on the verge of being completely moved.

I feel like I made almost no forward movement on the move this week. I packed some boxes. We took another van load to the thrift store.

And we made the decision early in the week that this move wasn’t going to be completed while my husband is working a 50-hour week, with 10 hours of commuting, and two kids in the house who think we’re moving tomorrow and just want to play outside with their friends.

So, on Monday, we’re meeting my parents in Ohio and sending the kids to Illinois for extended family time. In the meantime, I’ll be packing every.last.thing in the old house and moving it to the new house. It’s a decision that seems selfish and mean sometimes (get these kids out of here!) but really, I know it’s for the best. Because Phil and I are basically walking zombies right now, fueled by caffeine. (One day this week I found a loaf of bread in the drawer where we keep the sandwich bags. At least it wasn’t the lunch meat.)

But the kitchen at the new house is getting unpacked and the more time I spend at the farmhouse, the more inspired I am to be creative with the arranging of the furniture and what we’re going to put on the walls. I’m ready for us to be in one place, not two. This week, we’re planning to make great strides toward that goal.

And, oh, it was hot this week. If I’m ever going to move again in summer, I’m going to find a way to have air conditioning in both places. I don’t know if it’s the heat or a plague but we saw three dead birds on the ground this week and I learned what the phrase “dropping like flies” literally means. Flies were dying in and around my kitchen sink all week. Grossed. Me. Out.

So, what keeps me sane, or maybe it adds to my insanity and I don’t know the difference, is the stuff my kids say.

Here’s a sampling.

While packing boxes and marking them with a Sharpie, Izzy comes into the room. “Is that the marker that smells? That smells better than a hundred elephants.” Later I’d find her with purple dots on her nose because she was sniffing it.

One day, while she was doing her business on the toilet, she unrolled half a roll of toilet paper. I asked her not so nicely, “Why did you do that?” She shrugs and says, “Well, there was a full moon yesterday.” Way to pass the buck.

We snacked outside one day and when I asked Corban what he wanted he said, “Can I have cheese curls so I can have white pee this morning?” Besides the fact that it was already afternoon …

And on our way to Chick-fil-A for breakfast on Friday, he was telling us a story about a tractor that went down our street. “I’m serious!” he says in all seriousness. “There was a tractor on our street.” Okay, we believe you.

One night at dinner, just before we prayed, Phil asked Izzy why we pray. She shrugged her shoulders and said she didn’t know. The next night, I asked the same question. She said, “Because we love Jesus.” Then she let out a breath and said, “Whew. That was hard.”

It was a week full of ups and downs. Izzy took clothes off the line by herself without being asked and put away dishes all on her own, surprising me with her helpfulness. But there was also a moment when all was quiet. Silence, in this case, really was golden. The kids had used gold glitter glue on their window sill, convincing me that we will probably never be able to restore this house to the way we found it when we started living here.

We’re tired. We’re stressed. But so thankful for the option to send our kids to their grandparents.

It’s almost over. And it’s almost just beginning.

Pray us through?

How God works for good: Review of Trouble in Store by Carol Cox

June 26, 2013

Life doesn’t always work out the way we want.

And sometimes, that’s a good thing.

Author Carol Cox illustrates this theme in her latest novel, Trouble in Store. (Disclaimer: In exchange for my honest review, I received a free copy of the book from the author.)

Melanie Ross is a governess for a wealthy family in Ohio when the mischief of the boy in her care causes her to lose her job. Her powerful ex-employer vows to end her prospects for working as a governess, but he leaves her with enough severance pay to start over. Melanie recalls a letter from her cousin, now deceased, who was part owner of a mercantile in Arizona. She decides to take a train out West to appeal to the surviving partner for a job and a place to live. But when she arrives, she finds that her cousin’s partner is also dead and the store is being managed by his nephew, Caleb Nelson.

I enjoy the situations Cox puts her characters in, and Melanie’s predicament showcases Cox’s ability to ruffle her character’s comfort and create conflict, both internal and external. Melanie and Caleb clash from the beginning, which means we’ll see sparks of a different kind fly later in the story. The romance factor is a bit predictable, but the overall story is uplifting and enjoyable. The setting, 1880s Arizona, is captivating and I find myself drawn to these cozy western stories.

Melanie is a confident–and sometimes overbearing–female lead in this story, but it’s fun to “watch” as she and Caleb dispute ownership of the store and try to make it work to the best of their abilities. There’s an element of danger, too, as the store has been the target of anonymous threatening notes and rumors about the causes of its previous owners’ deaths. Caleb and Melanie find themselves fighting on the same side for the sake of the store.

And eventually, though neither of them planned for life to work out the way it did, both of them discover that God’s plans work out for the best.

I think this theme is best reflected in Melanie’s revelation:

How like the Lord to create beauty from the ashes of her despair and turn her heartache into rejoicing. (133)

What an encouraging reminder of the way He works.

Why dads matter

June 25, 2013

My dad’s birthday was Sunday and since this is the year of me failing to send a card for any birthday/holiday/anniversary in our family, I’m turning, once again, to what I can do: write a post for everyone to read!

Birthdays aren’t a big deal to my dad. At least, that’s what he says. But I loved the look on his face when Isabelle started singing “Happy birthday” to him during our Skype call on Sunday.

It’s not always easy for me to talk about my relationship with my dad. Not that it’s bad but we don’t have one of those daddy-daughter date night kind of relationships. During my childhood, we bonded while watching Cubs games on TV or Bears football or while riding bikes as a family or taking amazing road trip vacations every summer. I think my dad gets credit for my love of travel, though maybe even he was surprised that I wanted to spend a semester in England during college. I don’t know. I’ve never asked him.

A couple of summers ago, Dad and I talked about our relationship. I didn’t understand when I was younger why he missed softball games or came late or why he worked long hours, but time and a family of my own have given me a different perspective. Those long hours were acts of love. A way of providing so our family didn’t end up on the street, or having to move, or struggling to feed ourselves, like his childhood experience.

As I’ve gotten older, my dad has been the one I want to talk to in a time of crisis. My mom is emotional, like me, so if the two of us tried to talk out a difficult situation, we might convince ourselves the world was ending, then we’d be in uncontrollable tears for the rest of the conversation. (No offense, Mom.) My dad, however, is more rational and logical. He takes his time thinking through things before giving an answer, which sometimes makes me crazy. Because when I want answers, I want them NOW! But, I’ve learned that thinking things through often helps me arrive at a better answer than I would have had if I knee-jerk responded.

My dad was there when I sobbed my way down the stairs of my apartment building after college graduation, offering me a hug and no words. And when I couldn’t drive myself home later that day as we caravaned through half of Indiana and Illinois. He’s always been my “voice of reason” confirming whether this car was a good purchase or my finances seemed a mess. I’m not always confident in my decision-making, but any good decisions I’ve made, I give my dad credit for instilling that in me.

I remember my dad having this thing about him with kids. Kids have always loved my dad, and I’ve seen that especially with my kids. Watching my dad be Papa to my two has opened my memory bank from when I was a kid. With them, I see my dad differently, and I glimpse how he might have been with me and my brother.

The same summer I opened the dad-daughter conversation, I learned something new. There’s a picture of me as a baby, maybe a toddler, sitting near the tulip beds at the house where I grew up (which is not the house where my parents live now). It’s a familiar picture, one I remember seeing in the photo albums. I always thought my mom took the picture because she tends to be the picture taker in our family. She told me that summer that my dad took the picture, and it was the first time she had left me at home with him. She was out for a few hours and she wondered what he’d do while she was gone. When she came back, he’d taken these pictures of me out by the flowers.

That story tells me more about a father’s love than any book or sermon. I wish I could show you the picture, but I don’t think I have a copy. And even if I did, I wouldn’t know where to find it right now. (Ah, the joys of moving!)

If you’re a daughter doubting her father’s love, can I offer you a word of encouragement?

Dads sometimes show their love differently. And it’s not always obvious. I’ll bet if you examine your life and your dad’s actions, you’ll find ways he has shown his love. (And if your dad isn’t around, I don’t know what to say. That’s a conversation for another day, I guess.)

And if you’re a dad and you happen to be reading this, and you have daughters, can I offer you a word as well?

Try. Even if you don’t know how to show love to your daughter, try. You don’t have to speak a lot of words or write a flowery card. Sometimes you just have to be there. But if you can, say it every once in a while. “I love you.” “I’m proud of you.” “I’m glad you’re my daughter.” And maybe tell her something you appreciate about her, something unique about her.

It’s a wordy way to say “Happy birthday” to my dad, I know. But the older I get, the more sentimental I become.

And, I’m learning, you can seldom overdo it in the love department.

I love you, Dad.

Moving, Week 1: Five lessons

June 22, 2013

I should be packing right now.

After all, our living room at the old house looks like this. (Praise the Lord, we have enough boxes!)

But writing keeps me sane, and I didn’t touch a computer yesterday, which is sort of like not having a cup of coffee every day. It just doesn’t happen right now.

Phil took three vanloads of stuff to the new house this week, and on Friday the kids and I spent the whole day at the farmhouse unpacking, cleaning and waiting for the gas company to show up.

I’m not sure what I liked more about the day: finding a loaf of moldy bread in a cabinet or learning that the gas company’s definition of “We’ll be there between 8 and noon, and we’ll call this number before we arrive” is actually showing up at 1:30 p.m. and not calling first. I had just loaded the kids in the car to go to a park because we were a bit stir crazy when the gas company van showed up. Well-played, UGI. I’m not sure we’re off to the best start.

But we had fantastic helper friends who brought cookies, Cheez-Its and laughter. Kristen helped unpack all of our book boxes and kept me from being lonely.

It’s weird being part here, part there.

Isabelle helped unpack some random kitchen utensils. She put two or three in every drawer in the kitchen.

Moving Lesson #1: Kids CAN be helpful during the move, but your definition of “helpful” will change.

Midweek, I got tired of packing boxes at the old house, but I can’t really stop.

Moving Lesson #2: Looking at boxes marked “Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups” will make you crave peanut butter cups like it’s the last food on earth.

And because the packing and unpacking can be somewhat monotonous, I feel like I hear more things from the kids.

Like this, from Corban, as we waited in the van on the highway taking Phil to work:

That’s an oil truck. That won’t help us.

When we asked him what we needed help with, he said, “For our move. For our big stuff.”

And at the farmhouse, while the kids were playing outside, I heard him say:

Excuse me, spider. Don’t be on the farmhouse!

If politely asking them to leave works on all critters, then I will be sweeping my house with kindness.

Moving Lesson #3: Find time to laugh. It relieves stress.

After not-so-patiently waiting for the gas company, and after they had finished their business, the kids and I went to Chick-fil-a for an afternoon treat. It was the second day in a row we had milkshakes.

Moving Lesson #4: Drink milkshakes, especially if it’s summer. You deserve it for all the sweaty, hard work.

The kids played in the play area for a few minutes, mostly by themselves. When another little girl finally joined them, Isabelle immediately told her:

My dad works here.

I couldn’t see the other little girl’s reaction, but I could hear it.

I wish my dad worked here!

Yep. We’re the envy of the elementary school crowd.

And when we finally got home last night, well after our regular dinner time, there was only one thing left to do: Order take-out.

We don’t eat out often, and we don’t always have the money to do it. But moving is an extreme circumstance.

Moving Lesson #5: It’s okay to order out for dinner and eat at 7 p.m. Be flexible with routines. Do what you gotta do.

Last week was our trial run for packing and moving. I carefully chose things I didn’t think we’d need over the next few weeks. Now that I have a better idea of space and how things might fit, it’s no mercy this week. I’m packing it all, and if that means we’re eating delivery pizza with our hands off the floor every night, so be it. (I’m kidding, I think.)

This I know: the coffee pot will be the last thing to go. Unless I buy another one so my coffee can be in two places at once.