Finding Balm in Gilead

Immersed in "The Help"

I started reading The Help this weekend and I can't put it down.

I'm a little late on the bandwagon, especially since it's A MOVIE PLAYING RIGHT NOW, but it's been sitting on my shelf for a year, and finally I've picked it up.

By the way, I got it for a quarter - a quarter I tell you - at the library because they already had enough editions of it and so the librarians put their extras up for sale.

Anyway, I am not sure why I postponed reading it except I was deep in Beverly Lewis's Amish country for a while....then I was deep in Robert Whitlow's mysteries for a while.....then I've been deep in our little town's history for a while.

(Ask me anything about Dalhart prior to 1950 and I can tell you. I am full o' facts. Everytime we drive down the street, I try to point out some interesting trivia about a house or building, but Jason stops me before I even finish my "Did-you-know" sentence.

"You already told me," he says, and then proceeds to tell me exactly what I was about to tell him.)

Anyway. The Help.

This book is awesome - but you probably already know that because you read it two years ago.

I can't go see a movie if there's a book written prior to it. I have to read the book first. Then, with great anticipation, I will go see this movie and judge whether they got the casting right and whether they stuck with the original storyline and whether they set the scene correctly and whether they were in their right mind while making this movie.

I was burned once, you see. I read The Firm with great joy in the early 90's, and was just delighted when they cast Tom Cruise with the lead, because that's exactly what I had imagined in my head....and all this was when I still was riding high on his Top Gun performance of 1985.

(And regarding Tom Cruise - the times: they have a changed. Top Gun can't save him anymore.)

So then, when the powers that be changed the movie ending of The Firm, and totally destroyed the whole direction of the book, I was indignant. Hollywood has no appreciation for good literature.

Among other things.

But I continue to hear that this movie The Help is continually getting praise for it's casting and for sticking close to the original storyline. So I cannot - CAN-NOT - go see this movie without having read the book first. I'm counting on myself to be able to do a Siskel and Ebert review to anyone who will listen....or just in my head.

And I caught myself last night almost responding to a question from my husband with, "I done tol you that a'ready." Because I am deep in this southern book about the help a' all.

Oh, it is so much fun to be reading a good book. I love these characters. I love their funny thoughts and observations, and I love that the author gave several different points of view complete with dialect from both the black perspective and the white perspective.

I adore Minny and Aibileen, and I totally get where Skeeter is coming from, too. And Hilly....don't you just love to hate Hilly?

This is just good reading, y'all. I'm not going to pontificate on all the implications regarding the race issues and the politics of the time. I'm just here to say that this is a great example of engaging characterization, in-depth plot, and just plain good writin'.

See - I am so totally immersed that I all talkin' like I ain't a former English teacher.

But then, to look back at some of my posts, one might wonder 'bout those credentials, anyway.

What did you all think???

About the book, I mean. Just the book.

 

Mark Your Calendar

I feel a Celebration Day coming on.

I haven't had one in months.

Which is why I need one now.

Celebration Days are days to give thanks to what God has done, and what He's going to do.

Break out the steaks, peel some potatoes, and for goodness sake, DON'T FORGET DESSERT.

Celebration Days for us usually come NOT in the midst of everything being just hunky dory with the bluebirds singing and violins strumming out a sweet melody in the background.Celebration Days come when we are in the midst of a stressful time, when life has been beating down on us with some hard issues, and the cymbals are clanging and the cello is playing a dirge somewhere in the background.

So this is when we just need to stop and cancel that dirge, quit looking around at circumstances, and look up to the One who has already taken care of it.

Life is good, my friends. Celebrate the good and the not so good......because the not so good is clearing the way for some really fabulous stuff ahead.

Coincidentally, reading this book - One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp - has also been pouring into my soul. Her comments on that concept that "...gratitude always precedes the miracle..." just hits me between the eyes. Of course. Of course thanksgiving makes way for the impossible. Of course gratefulness ushers in the blessing. Something happens in the spiritual realm when we give thanks.

OF COURSE. Jesus gave thanks.......and broke the bread and fed the five thousand. Jesus gave thanks and healed the sick and raised the dead. Jesus gave thanks.

And died for our sins so that we might have eternal life.

He gave thanks. So will we.

Because this life is a gift to celebrate.

Grab your party hat. Break out the china. Dig out those streamers and John Deere balloons in the back of your wrapping drawer.

And again, please don't forget the dessert.

This Friday, March 11th, is a day to CELEBRATE. I'll be doing another one of my widely sought-after giveaways, too.

Give thanks. Celebrate. The battle has already been won.

See you Friday.

Urgent Equals Slow

Oh, the gift of a new book.

 

And this one is speaking to my heart and soul.

About a week ago, I picked up Ann Voskamp's new book, One Thousand Gifts. I had heard about it mainly through the blog world, as there are several blog book clubs reading right now.

I am not reading it as part of a book club. Yet.

But you can bet I am savoring every moment of reading it here at home in the wee hours of the morning.

This is not a book that you can read in a day's time. I mean, as one who read The Bridges of Madison County in the span of three hours on a Sunday afternoon (pre-marriage and kids), this is not a book that you can get so lost in that you lose track of time and have to read RIGHT THEN WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A POTTY BREAK.

Rather, this is a book you get so lost in.....lost in the sheer concepts of this thing called thanksgiving.....that it is imperative to stop for a moment, sit back at the page break, and think hard about what you just read.

And then apply it to your life.

At least, this is the way it is for me.

And while one of Mrs. Voskamp's revelations in the book is that "...life is so urgent, it necessitates living slow...", that is just the way I'm reading this book. I feel an urgency to drink in all that she writes about living this life with thanksgiving, with real "eucharisteo", and yet that urgency begs me not to gulp it down in one afternoon....but take time to, as Mrs. Voskamp writes later, taste all that is there.

This, One Thousand Gifts, is a beautiful book. It is different. It is thought-provoking. It is turning on a light bulb deep within me. And today, I am urgently learning to live slow.

 Life is not an emergency. Life is eucharisteo.

I, too, soothe the cheek of the mad-fisted child. I give thanks for that one curl that always lies on his forehead, beckoning invitation, and him held close in the arms, I know it. That life is so urgent it necessitates living slow.

It's only the amateurs - and that I have been and it's been ugly - who think slow and urgent are contradictory, opposite poles.

He lays his head on my shoulder. I stroke his hair, wind my finger round that curl. I can feel the heat of his cheeks. I can feel time's current in my blood ease...meander. Is this what the life experts know?

That in Christ, urgent means slow.

That in Christ, the most urgent necessitates a slow and steady reverence.

For a moment, longer, I hold son - and life - and I hold it mindfully...attentively...thankfully. Life at its fullest is this sensitive, detonating sphere, and it can be carried only in the hands of the unhurried and reverential - a bubble held in awe.

I carry the small son boy to the table.

- From One Thousand Gifts, by Ann Voskamp

 

Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba, and Mary

Have I mentioned lately that I LOURVE books by Francine Rivers?

Well.

 

I am currently reading A Lineage of Grace, which is a compilation of Rivers' novellas about five women in the Bible who changed eternity. The best part about it is that ALL FIVE women were not the kind of women you would expect to have such an impact on the kingdom of God. "...These women were not perfect, and yet God in His infinite mercy used them in His perfect plan to bring forth the Christ, the Savior of the world." (Foreword, A Lineage of Grace)

Y'ALL. These stories have touched the core of my soul. Tamar's story gives me hope. Rahab's story reminds me to have faith. Ruth's story is touching evidence of the power of love. Bathsheba's heart spurs me to have more grace towards people. Mary....well, she exemplifies the eternal gift of obeying God.

Every night, I'm up with my little purple booklight crouched under the covers and reading until midnight or one. I love it when I get into a book like this.

I used to pass by Francine Rivers' books when I was in the bookstore. Something about the historical fiction aspect of it didn't appeal to me. Yet I love history and I love fiction, so you would think that I naturally would have been drawn to her books. For some reason I was not.

But, in my defense, I was going through a Beverly Lewis phase for a while, and before that, I was reading some Karen Kingsbury, and before that, well.....I was reading everything John Grishamish.

What appeals to me about this Lineage of Grace series, though, is that each one of these women were flawed. They were not a typical choice to carry the lineage of Christ the King. They made mistakes. They were deceived by the world at certain points in their lives.

But they believed. They knew deep within that God was supreme. They knew that God could restore them. They knew that He could redeem their past.

I am so encouraged by these stories. While I realize that these novellas are the interpretation of Ms. Rivers, I do know that she strives to stick close to scripture, she makes use of respected Biblical scholars and historical sources in order to weave these accounts, and she spends much time in prayer over how to present these novels.

I just had a thought.....perhaps I always skipped over Francine Rivers' books before because I wasn't quite ready for them. I KNOW I would have appreciated them then, but now, years later, in the wake of some recent life events that have driven me hard to my knees more than ever before.....I really get these stories. I have a deep connection with the characters. I understand their despair...their shame....their perseverance....their hope.....and their desire for redemption.

And I rejoice in the God who saves, restores, and uses the unlikely for His greater purpose in this world.

Even someone as unlikely as me. 

Balanced Parenting

In addition to the Bible itself, I've scoured the bookshelves for any extra tidbits of thoughtful and godly advice in helping raise these two little sweethearts of mine. Of course, all of James Dobson's books receive five stars from me, especially The Strong-Willed Child and Bringing Up Boys, and I love Kevin Leman's no-nonsense but humorous approach in How to Have a New Kid by Friday. (Leman has written some other fantastic stuff about marriage, too. Sheet Music, anyone?)

For my girl, I have found Vicki Courtney's Five Conversations You Must Have With Your Daughter a must-read, dogear it, go back and highlight, every mom must read this now, book. Granted, some of the material will apply to Gracie when she is a little bit older, but Y'ALL......we with girls know that the toddler years are huge in laying the foundation for the choices she will make later in regards to boys, beauty, and character.

The toddler years are huge for boys too.

Toddler years = pre-prep for teenage years = Whoa, Nellie.

Ok. I subscribe to Vicki Courtney's blog updates, which are invaluable in keeping me informed from a Biblical, Christian standpoint on the cultural issues going on in the world as it pertains to my girl growing up. She also highlights pertinent issues facing boys, too, and she always writes about parenting in general.

So. I received an email update on Friday (January 21) alerting me to her newest post: Tiger Moms vs.Soccer Moms. Y'all. This post is so interesting. It made me stop and review my beliefs as a parent and how those beliefs flush out in my relationships with the kids.

Vicki analyzes the "parent-centric" versus the "kid-centric" styles of parenting as a direct response to a new book written by Amy Chua - who supports the strict, regimented, you-have-no-life-under-my-roof Chinese model of parenting.

I can tell you right now: I don't agree with the Chinese model, NO SIREE.

But Vicki's comments made me wonder if I've been more "kid-centric" in my parenting than I should.

Ultimately, I want to be completely and totally, as Vicki says, "God-centric" in all things parent related.

Go check this post out....and if you're feeling particularly crazy, come back and leave me a comment with your thoughts.

Tiger Moms vs. Soccer Moms.

Tiger Moms vs. Soccer Moms

Some Thoughts

Hi.

I'm not sure what I've all I've done, but the week has been a blur.

Nevertheless, a few thoughts:

 - Today is the National Day of Prayer. Be in prayer today for our country, our president , our congressional leaders, our courts, and our military. They need it. Despite all of our issues in America, we are still a nation originally founded upon God, and we are privileged to still be free.

 - On a lighter note, I have a new sectional couch in a beautiful chocolate color ordered and on it's way in about 6-8 weeks. Ironically, I have become a bit sentimental about the Bedsprings, and I'm wishing we had a basement where it could be banished and yet stay with us forever. Crazy, I know.

 - Our rose bushes are blooming. Glory Hallelujah, spring is here to stay. Of course, according to my realistic J, these particular bushes only bloom for a few weeks and then are ugly the rest of the year. Oh, we could draw some spiritual allusions out of that comment. But for now, glory hallelujah, the roses are blooming amid the thorns.

 - The kids and I took a tour of the unusually lush northern parts of the Texas Panhandle yesterday when we delivered a part to one of J's customers in Sunray. Since we were in the area, we stopped over in Dumas to grab Sherwin Williams paint samples FOR THE DEN, and then stopped at WallyWorld. Big mistake since they were rearranging the grocery aisles. Funnily enough, Walmart has oodles of employees to stock the aisles and yet they apparently have a shortage of checkers in their 15+ check-out lanes. 

 - Though I have issues with Oprah and her influence, I did happen to catch her interview with Laura Bush on Tuesday, and oh my word, Mrs. Bush is a classy gal. She was promoting her memoir, Spoken From the Heart, and her daughters joined her for the latter part of the interview. Say what you want, but I miss the Bush family. Yesterday, when I was trasping all over kingdom come, I picked up Mrs. Bush's book at Walmart and stayed up till midnight reading last night. It's good y'all. Very interesting.

 - And since I am in the mood to read, I also picked up Joyce Meyer's new book Eat the Cookie, Buy the Shoes. This is going to be my new motto for life.

 - And because Joyce Meyer's new book has celebration themes in it, I think it is high time for a celebration day in the middle of the week. Celebrate the past, present, and future answered prayers with me next Wednesday, May 12th.

Life is good, people.

The Origin of the Title

Many people (ok, two) have asked me what the name of my blog Finding Balm in Gilead means.

I feel I should have written this post at the beginning of this great writing adventure in order to explain myself and my direction; but alas, I did not. I've just kept on pretending that everyone who finds my blog (and it's a very small number of people) will just automatically know what I mean by the title.

And no, I absolutely do not think that my blog IS the balm in Gilead. Quite far from it, to be sure.

So. Here's Reason # 1 for the blog name Finding Balm in Gilead......

Long ago, I read a series of books by Jan Karon that I refer to as the "Mitford" series, because of the title of her very first book, At Home in Mitford.  My mom stumbled onto these gems first, and I can still remember hearing her laugh out loud in her bedroom at night while reading the latest book. I believe I had just graduated from college at the time, and I remember thinking, "What can be so funny about a book with a pastoralish town scene on the front?"

Turns out, a lot is funny in this book with a pastoralish town scene on the front.

At the time, I was into reading anything with John Grisham's name on the cover, or the latest Mary Higgin's Clark mystery. Suspense and thriller were at the top of my list, although now, I can't stand to read or watch anything remotely scary.....one of the casualities of becoming a mother, I suppose.

But my mom's belly laughter was so contagious at the time - a time when our family was knee-deep in the muck and mire of my parents' marital issues - that I finally conceded to her pleas for me to read these books - if not for anything more than a slight chuckle and a smile.

Seriously, I thought these books were going to be beyond my scope of interest....something that I would read when I was an OLDER woman, but not as modern young thing of 23.

But I have not regretted reading these books one bit, I tell you. In fact, I've read several of them twice.

They are delightful. Hilarious. Witty. Full of the idiosyncrasies of life.

And because I can't say it any better, here's the synopsis taken straight from Barnes and Noble.com:

"In At Home in Mitford, Father Tim finds himself running on empty. Even after twelve years of shepherding his flock, he finds that Emma, his secretary, persists in treating him like a ten-year-old. Barnabas, a huge black dog, adopts him, and a hostile mountain boy, Dooley, is thrust into his care. To add to his confusion, a growing friendship with Cynthia Coppersmith, his new neighbor, stirs emotions he hasn't felt in years."

That, in a nutshell, is why I couldn't put these books down....they were all about the normal, everyday lives of a community of people as seen through the eyes of the narrator - Father Tim.

When you think about it, everyday life is rather hilarious, people.

Thus, these books are one of the reasons for the title of this blog. In this Mitford series, Father Tim's favorite expression when faced with a trying situation or confusing dilemma was this: "Is there any balm in Gilead?" Father Tim's character never cusses, and he most certainly uses extreme tact in all dealings with his parish. However, the reader ALWAYS knew when he was frustrated or concerned with a situation because his thoughts turned to this one expression: "Is there any balm?"

This expression has become a favorite between my mother and me. When faced with hard situations or hurtful events - or even tasks that are deemed tedious - one of us looks at the other and mutters, "Is there any balm?" Sometimes we say it while muffling a laugh; other times we utter the phrase simply to keep from crying.

So what does the phrase Balm in Gilead mean? Why on earth did I choose it for the name of this blog? Why didn't I simply choose a title like Amy's Incoherence? Or Confessions of a Puzzle Addict? Or Ironing Is Punishment? Or Have a Dirt Bike, Need a Couch?

Those answers are coming tomorrow, my friends. Tomorrow.

You may be inwardly groaning right now, indignant that this post is dragging into two parts, but it can't be helped.....I have to make it look like I accomplished something here today while the kids are at Ms. LuAnn's.

So I've got to go iron J's jeans....and fix his broken belt loops....with the sewing machine.

Is there any balm?

Meanwhile, go get this book:

You won't be disappointed.

A Hallmark Childhood Reading Moment

Saturday, we caught a Hallmark channel rerun of the Little House on the Prairie mini-series that premiered in 2005. The kids were sitting in my lap, groggy from their naps, when I stumbled on the show. I figured it would keep their attention for a whole five minutes before they were ready to do something else, but amazingly they became captivated while watching the little girls Mary and Laura, and of course, watching all the livestock run around out on the prairie.

I can't believe I've never seen this version of the story before, since I read each of the "Little House" books about ten times each, and I still love to catch old reruns of the popular Michael Landon tv series. The books always fascinated me, representing the lost days when innocence and simplicity were values treasured and protected....even though it was a tough time of survival as well.

I've remarked several times how I would have loved to have lived back then, but J always scoffs and reminds me that I would never make it without indoor plumbing.

And he's right.

Anyway, this particular 2005 Little House program was quite good, and even though the kids didn't remain totally focused on it, they enjoyed bits and pieces of the show while they played and I folded clothes. It started at 4 and lasted until 10 that night. J came in from work around 5 and to my surprise, he sat down and watched it with us. I couldn't believe it. He NEVER willingly watches the Hallmark channel.

J was totally captivated too, until Nascar came on at 7pm.

At that point, Nascar took priority and we DVRed the rest of the series to watch together Sunday afternoon, because as J said, NOTHING was on Sunday afternoon since Nascar aired Saturday night.

By nothing, he means nothing having to do with cars or football.

However, my interest had been rekindled in the "Little House" stories, so late Saturday night I spent about an hour reading up on the entire Ingalls family, courtesy of the internet. I vaguely remember reading in my childhood some of the family history of Laura Ingalls Wilder, but Saturday night I was obsessed with figuring out what this family was all about.

I have all sorts of useless trivia to share with you about the Ingalls family, but based on my husband's reaction to all my new information, I will spare you the details.

Anyway, watching this series Saturday and Sunday has me excitedly remembering all the books I read as a child - books that I loved and hope that my daughter will love as well. I have my parents to thank for instilling in me a love and appreciation of reading, and I pray I can pass that on to both of my children, especially in this overstimulated technological society that we live in.

So, my question for all five of my readers is this....what books did you love as a child? What was their impact on your life at that time?

Oooh, another series I loved was The Boxcar Children. Anyone remember that?