Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns
If you think Jesus would have come into your home that day and not issued a strong rebuke to the head of household, you are mistaken. These words of condemnation have been haunting me for days now. They aren’t all that different than the soundtrack I play in my head on an almost-daily basis. It’s…
I am nesting. On Saturday I emptied the refrigerator. Last summer’s homemade pickles in their jars. The bread ends that seem to multiply on every shelf. The eggs. The milk. The fruit and veggies. All of it sat on the floor or the counter as I carefully removed the shelves and wiped them down with…
I’ve heard that life is like a highway. And it definitely seems like that sometimes. The pace of life swirls around me at dizzying speeds. We’re all so busy. In such a hurry. Always somewhere to be, something else to do. I’m a get-to-the-point, get-there-quick kind of girl. I don’t like to waste time on…
Any time Katie Ganshert’s name is on a book, I know two things:
I have long been a fan of Ganshert’s work. She has birthed some of my favorite fictional characters and her books are ones I don’t easily forget. These things are all true of her newest novel, Life After. (Disclaimer: I received an advance copy of the book through the Blogging for Books program. Review reflects my honest opinion.)
In Life After, Autumn Manning is the sole survivor of an “L” train bombing in Chicago. A year after the tragedy, she is stuck in an obsessive cycle of “why.” Why did she live when 22 others didn’t? Though her physical life was spared, she isn’t really living. Until the daughter of a victim begins writing her letters and one day, Autumn replies.
The girl’s father, Paul Elliott, who lost his wife in the train bombing, wants to put the whole tragedy behind him. He forbids communication between Autumn and his daughter, but their lives continue to intersect and both Autumn and Paul have to face their grief, fears and some hard truths in order to go on with living a full life.
Ganshert’s writing is to reading what exquisite food is to eating: it’s a luxurious treat. But it’s not so fancy that you’re distracted by the word choices.
Here are a couple of my favorite lines. They both happen to be dialogue, but the narrative portions are beautiful, too.
“You know what I think?” Pop said, scratching the whiskers on his chin again. “I think that the second we find ourselves asking ‘Who am I?’ is the second we become the perfect person for the job.”
And, this one:
“I guess that’s what life is, though, isn’t it? A whole bunch of little moments that don’t seem significant or life-altering at the time, but when you look back …” She shook her head. “I don’t know. They become the most profoundly beautiful things.”
Life After is not a light-hearted, feel-good beach read type of book, and that’s not necessarily an insult. It’s fiction, yes, but it’ll take you on an emotional trek through the valleys of grief and post-trauma stress. And it’ll leave you with the hope that even the worst things life can throw at you can turn into good things.
You can find out more about the book here, which includes a look at the first chapter.
I do not always like surprises.
Ben White via Unsplash
One time, many years ago, I had to work on my birthday, the same day a group of friends usually gathered at my house for an evening of laughter and Trivial Pursuit and who-knows-what-else. They decided to go bowling. I gave one of them the key to my house so they could gather there afterwards if I didn’t make it to the bowling alley. After a trying day of journalism, I pulled into my driveway. The house was dark, and I assumed my friends were still bowling. I dragged myself up my steps, opened the door and made a shocking discovery.
The lights turned on as if by magic and my living room was full of my friends yelling “Surprise!” I have a picture of the look on my face, which is somewhere between terrified and annoyed, not the sort of delightful expression one might expect. I remember exclaiming, “Oh my God!” which I later regretted because I thought maybe I had taken the Lord’s name in vain. (I think He has forgiven me on that by now.)
I was glad my friends had cared enough about me to throw me a party. I am seldom caught off guard. They executed the plan perfectly.
Read the complete post at Putting on the New, where I blog on the 12th of each month.