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…
I recently finished reading Andrew Peterson’s The Wingfeather Saga, books 1-3 (a fourth is on its way). Below are some overall impressions of each of the books. I wouldn’t want to ruin the story for anyone, so I didn’t get too specific about plot. My husband read these first and it was hard for him to not talk about what happens in each of the books until after I’d read them. I’d recommend these books in a nanosecond.
On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness
I have loved Andrew Peterson’s musical stories for years, and after my husband (who typically does not read books quickly) tore through this series, I was eager to give them a shot. This first book in The Wingfeather Saga starts slow and builds a lot of background for the Igiby family. It’s not that it’s a hard read or a bad story or anything. I love the relationships between the children, their mother and grandfather, and the trouble they find themselves in. Everything I love about Peterson’s music translates to the pages of this story somehow, and I found myself wishing there was a soundtrack for the book. I am wowed by Peterson’s creativity in forming a world with fascinating and frightening creatures with detailed descriptions and amusing names. I’ve said that I’m not a fan of the fantasy genre, but I think I’m being won over of late by works like this. I look forward to sharing these stories with my kids as they get older and letting their imaginations run wild. This book will whet your appetite for more. (And thankfully, there are more!)
North! Or Be Eaten
If the first book started slow, then this book is the opposite. I felt like it started with action and never let up through the whole book. It was intense and thrilling. The middle book(s) of a series sometimes lack a little as they pave the way for the conclusion, but not so this one. It was my favorite of the three (a fourth is to come). The Igiby children learn tough and valuable lessons as they flee for their lives. They struggle to work together and wonder if their mission is worth it. They long for the good-old days, before they knew who they were and the responsibility that carried. Worked throughout the story is the struggle of living enslaved to an evil power (the Fangs) although life was simpler and fleeing and fighting that evil for the promise of something better. As in the first book, the creatures and lands Andrew Peterson created in his mind translate well on the page. Maps and illustrations are a small part of that. He has the ability to take a familiar animal and transform it into something fitting for this mythical world. A page-turner, for sure. My husband warned me not to read them too quickly or I’d find myself at the end wanting more. But the story is so good, I couldn’t put it down.
The Monster in the Hollows
Just when you think you know what’s going to happen and how things are going to end, Andrew Peterson gives you a shocking and surprising twist. And you LOVE him for it. The Igiby family finds themselves in their mother’s homeland but things are far from easy. Peterson weaves deep truths into this story, the most memorable for me is this: Remember who you are. The characters struggle with identity and perception and guilt and shame. Through it all they grow and change and affect the world around them for good. I didn’t want this book to end because book 4, the concluding piece, is still a long way off. But Peterson’s story is so captivating, you can’t take it slow. So my only word of caution is that once you start this series, you’ll finish it quickly and find yourself eager for the conclusion. Book 4 can’t come soon enough!
I’ve been thinking about dreams a lot lately. Not the whoa-what-was-that-all-about kind of dreams you have in the night and try to explain to your husband over breakfast. (Not that this ever happens to me …). No, the other kind. The awake kind. The kind that keep you afloat when you feel you might be drowning. Those far-off, seemingly unattainable hopes and goals for your life.
© Alexandru Mitrea | Dreamstime.com
We need dreams. I need dreams. In the past few months, I’ve found myself mired in hopelessness, wondering if life will always be this struggling just to get by, relying on others for help, worrying if we’re doing the best thing for us and our kids. In some ways, the answer to those questions is “yes.” But in other ways, it’s “no.” It doesn’t have to always be like this. To remind myself to keep dreaming, in the positive sense, I started a notebook just to record my dreams. Things like places I want to visit or travel to, features I’d like to have in a home, stuff I’d like to do before I die (the bucket list, you know). I wanted a reminder that I have dreams. And I should keep having dreams. And I need to keep dreaming because those dreams aren’t necessarily out of reach.
And I’ve been hearing stories of people, women mostly, who have dreams that scare the pants off of them. And I keep hearing this in my head:
Dream big.
I’ve heard that if your dreams don’t scare you a little, they aren’t big enough.
And that’s what I want to do: Dream big.
The company I’m applying to work for has this as their vision: to invest in the dreams of the poor. They offer small loans to people in poverty to start a business to help earn an income for their families.
Investing in dreams. I thought about the people who have invested in my dreams. My parents, in sending me to college and taking out loans and helping repay those loans. A generous couple who sent me to my first writers conference where I hadn’t a clue what I was doing there but the experience of being there sparked something in me that I’ve been fanning into flame ever since. My grandparents, who have given time and money and support, in everything. The list could go on and on with family members, teachers, professors, mentors, co-workers, friends and virtual strangers.
That made me wonder if I’ve invested in anyone’s dreams and how I can do that.
And I wondered how many dreams I’ve carelessly crushed. A line from The Waiting’s “Mercy Seat” haunts me: For there you cover every lie I spoke, and every promise that I broke and every dreamer that I woke.
Father, forgive me, for any dreamers I’ve tried to wake.
And then this, from the Psalms:
When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
we were like those who dreamed.Our mouths were filled with laughter,
our tongues with songs of joy.
Sometimes it’s good to remember what it is to dream. To smile at the prospect. To tremble in fear and excitement. To stretch beyond what we’re capable of and find that God is there to help us. To try something new. To fail. And to try again.
Not all of our dreams will come true, but that doesn’t mean we stop dreaming.
Whatever your dreams, dream on.
And on and on.