Happy Birthday, William!!

Happy Birthday, William!  I can’t believe you’re 7 whole years old already.  I am SO proud of you — this year your big event was starting local first grade in Russian!  You have done so well, persevering with the writing homework and listening and understanding in class… your teacher told me how pleased she is with what a good student you are. Way to go!

Even more than Russian school, I have been so thankful for the way you are letting Jesus grow your heart.  Recently I noticed you really listening when Daddy points out things about your character - like learning how it feels to let Ben go first, or putting aside what you wanted to do to help your sister - and then later that day or the next day, I see you doing it!  That is the way to grow, Will… listen to correction, and then do it.  I hope you keep this pattern the rest of your life - it will sure help you grow into the young man God created you to be!

I love how attuned you are to God’s creation.  You’re always drawing my attention to a cool rock, or a neat flower, or a new colorful bird.  You notice the way the trees look against the sky, and you think about how things are made and how they work.  You have the mind of a scientist, engineer and poet all wrapped in one.  It’s so amazing watching you unfold!  

I couldn’t ask for a more wonderful first-born son.  I love spending time with you, just the two of us, reading (you love the National Geographic Science readers) or playing games (like chess, checkers, Connect4 and UNO)… you are a “quality time” kind of guy, and I love that about you.

You’re goofy too - you love to groove and beatbox, and your dance moves are legendary.  You like U2, Bluetree, Colin Buchanan and any other hoppin’ beat you can find!  You are a unique, quirky, wonderful kid, and I love you so much.  I love every day I get to be your Mom!  

I hope you have a wonderful, special birthday with your cousins in New Zealand this year, and know how loved and special you are!

XOXO  Love, Mom

just a quick note...

...to explain the silence on the blog for the past month.  I've been recovering from my broken foot (doing very well, thanks), and getting my oldest son into first grade in our little local school.  He's in the Russian class, he wears a suit every day, it's been a big deal for all involved.  After three weeks he's doing very well, but we're all pretty exhausted! :)

(Check out my Facebook page for photos of his first day...)

I've got about three posts lined up in the wings (the Internet keeps conking out on me when I get an evening with enough energy left to post), so stay tuned and watch this space for the things I've learned in August & September about listening, motherhood, and this art of sojourning we're trying to do every day... 

Thanks for your patience and your prayers!

Love,
Carolyn

of flying machines and grace-filled mothering

I wish I had a flying machine.

(We haven't actually seen this movie... this model came in an airplane kids' kit!)

Will and I made Yogi Bear's flying machine at “rest time” today.  I reluctantly relinquished my usual hour of lying-down-flat-in-a-dark-cool-room because he’s been begging me for several days to “make a craft”…

Ever feel like David?  “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove; I would fly away and be at rest!” (Ps. 55:6)

That refrain played over and over in my heart today.

My second son (4.5 yrs) currently idolizes screen time over every other thing in his life (including Jesus, his mom and dad, all his friends, and every toy he owns).  Practically all of his communication with me this morning consisted of complaining, whining, and begging for screen time, until I put my foot down and insisted “I can't hear you” as long as he continued to whine.  He finally forced himself to switch to a slightly less nasal tone just to get me to respond.

Oh, for the wings of a dove…

After sticking the flying machine together and taping feathers to strips of felt to make Indian headbands, I snuck into my room to lay down on my bed, but I barely got 10 horizontal minutes before Ruby woke up.  Ten whole minutes.  

Then it was up-and-at-‘em again, off to the shop, greeting the entire neighborhood en route to and from, the flurry of getting dinner, letting the dog out, putting the dog away, kids fed, bathed, toenails clipped, put to bed, phone calls made, emails typed, and… I’m still so wound up that even though I’m exhausted, I had to type the rough draft of this post before I could even start my bedtime routine.

I want to fly away on Yogi Bear’s flying machine, without anyone sitting behind me - just me.  By myself.  Alone.  Without anyone else.  Alone.  Did I mention, I want to be alone?

Oh…that I could fly away, and be at rest!

Where are my wings?  I kept glaring up at heaven.

Ever have a day like that?  What did you do? 

Desperate, in the middle of the afternoon, I made Ben write down what he was thankful for, and then I did the same - a purple prophecy written in hope, since it sure isn’t evident yet…

(in case it's not clear in the photo, Ben's list - made with help - includes "cousins in NZ, a cute little sister, 2 grandmas who love me, Gpa Tim and that I have his name, and a ride in a donkey cart today")

I went out after rest time and took pictures of sunflowers, each click of the shutter a tiny burst of helium in my heart, finally lifting it up off the ground to gain a bit of altitude…

I petted the dog… For the first time in my life, I’ve discovered how therapeutic it can be to scratch the velvety fur behind a dog’s ears.  I’m amazed it’s taken me 30 years to discover this!

And now, I’m writing this blog post, looking for wings, hoping the story of this day will encourage even just one other heart out there…

The next day...

I discover that a book review for a course I’m taking is due right now, so during “rest time” I curl up with my Kindle for a hasty reading session.  The book I’ve chosen to review is a thick tome on mentoring which came highly recommended, but my initial scratches (months ago) left me worried it might be quite dry.  Hah!  Completely the opposite.  I can’t stop highlighting.  

In the middle of Chapter 2, the author is describing how a good spiritual mentor can help us discern spiritual meaning in and through the events of our daily lives. These words jump off the page:

“[Eugene] Peterson compares pastoral ministry to work on the farm with its routines of unglamorous chores, such as cleaning the barn, mucking out the stalls and pulling weeds.  Spiritual mentoring is farm work in which we meet routinely with our mentor for periodic unglamorous conversations and prayer.  Though moments of grand epiphany burst in or around us, the heart of mentoring another is the modest work of the routine.” (emphasis mine)

This girl, who’s never owned an animal larger than a hamster, has been feeding chickens, scooping dog poop and pulling up huge fistfuls of garden weeds since the beginning of summer, so the “farm work” analogy currently has a - shall we say - pungent meaning for me.

But it was the end of that paragraph which took my breath away:

“Most pastoral work takes place in obscurity,” says Peterson, “deciphering grace in the shadows, searching out meaning in a difficult text, blowing on the embers of a hard-used life.  This is hard work and not conspicuously glamorous.”

I have a confession to make.  [stage whisper]  I’m one of those people who secretly likes being “conspicuously glamorous”.  Really.  I like getting attention, looking put together, receiving credit for what I’ve accomplished...

Guess what I’m discovering.  

Motherhood is anything but glamorous.  

(Big surprise, right?)  

Motherhood is “deciphering grace in the shadows.”  

When I read that phrase, I saw why God wants me to read this book: not because I’m supposed to go out and collect unsuspecting mentorees on which to bestow my vast depths of knowledge (hah!), but because I already have three little mentorees living in my house everyday, whose souls I am (scarily) responsible for shaping.  

I mean, of course if you’re a mother, you’re a mentor, right?  Yeah, ok - it should’ve been obvious, I guess.  But for some reason, I just didn’t connect motherhood and mentoring.  I thought mentoring was something older, more experienced adults did for younger adults… (so, um, that would be me, with my three little adults-in-training…)  

I know it’s God who works in all of us to will and to act according to His good purpose, and I know He is ultimately the One forming the character of my children, but I also have a huge responsibility to partner with Him in raising my kids to be godly, mature, responsible, joy-filled adults.  After all, He did pick me to be their mother - gulp! - and here in the middle of this book on Spiritual Mentoring, I am finally getting it.   

I need to learn how to become a good mentor because I already have three precious souls under my care.  

I need to learn how to “decipher grace in the shadows.”  I have this sneaking suspicion that if I can find grace in the shadows, I’ll find those wings I’ve been looking for.

photo credit

I scroll back in my Kindle to another quote earlier in the book which I highlighted in the context of adult mentoring but which takes on a new savor when applied to motherhood:

“The good mentor will help us ‘read between the lines’ for the hidden and quietly earthy messages that God will give because life is full of God.”

Yes.  To help my children read between the lines of life and unearth God’s messages for them because life is full of God. 

Or this one:

“The success or effectiveness of spiritual mentor may be directly related to the ability of mentor and mentor to move beneath the surface into the depths of treasures within the mentoree.  Anything that we bring to the surface has the potential to turn out to be silver or gold hidden in the rough, angular and random shapes of the earthly rock containers that carry these unique treasure.  The patient, sometimes tedious work of mining for the rich treasures within the seemingly worthless rocks is the work of spiritual mentoring.  These rocks are the stories of our daily lives.”

So.  Guess what?

In the midst of the tedious daily grind of dealing with bad attitudes and ungrateful hearts (often my own), dishes, laundry, farm chores, and cooking, I am mining unique treasures of gold and silver in the souls of my children.  I am helping them read between the lines of life for God’s messages.  I am “deciphering grace in the shadows.” 

Those glimpses of grace, when brought out into the light, become wings with the power to lift me up out of the mundane, into the holy. 

Does this resonate with you?  This doesn’t just apply to children, you know; we are mining for treasures with every friendship we have.  We are “deciphering grace in the shadows” in each conversation, each email, each train of thought, each journal entry, each prayer we whisper to the Holy Spirit in the depths of our hearts.  

We are all spiritual mentors for each other, and our holy work is the quietness of listening and paying attention to the “hidden and quietly earthy messages” God is every moment giving.

Because life is full of God, there is grace to decipher in the shadows.  

And that makes the shadows full of wings.

photo credit

the two (2) essential ingredients to being the perfect mom

Jesus. 

And sleep.

That’s it.  

That’s all you really need.  

That’s what one of my best friends said to me on the phone the other day.  She went on, “The minute I get a little more of either of those?  My day just seems to go so. much. better!  And if I don’t have either of those?  Let’s just say, it’s not pretty!”

I could be the perfect Mom if I just had enough Jesus, and enough sleep.  

Seriously.  

So… we could leave it there, perfect idealistic Mom-hood floating just out of reach, or we could explore together HOW to get more of those two essential ingredients?

Don’t we all want to be happy, contented, patient mothers?  

Then why is it so HARD to get enough Jesus, and enough sleep?

Well, to be honest, for me the first answer is probably: 

“Not enough self-control.”

Getting more sleep requires going to bed earlier (since the kids will be up at 7 no matter when I go to bed).    And the Internet is just so tantalizing in the evenings, especially if you’ve been soothing cranky toddlers or slogging through first-grade addition problems with a stubborn 6-year-old all day… and if you have SLOW Internet, it’s even more frustrating, because you can only watch 3 seconds of a YouTube video at a time, but those 3 seconds are so alluring you just keep wanting more… and more... until a whole hour has blinked by and you haven’t even finished watching ONE STINKIN’ VIDEO.  

Then you finally throw up your hands and say, “It’s not worth it.  I’m going to bed.”  But it’s already past 10pm, and it still takes a few minutes to get into your jammies, wash your face, brush your teeth… and you’ve been looking at screens for the last two hours, so you tell yourself you need some wind-down time in bed with a real book… which means its 11:00 before you finally turn out your light… and this happens. every. night.  (And you’re one of those people who need at least 8 hours of sleep to feel good.)

Um… yeah.  

So… late to bed means less sleep, which means it’s harder to get up before the kids, which means less time (or none at all) with Jesus in the morning… which means less awareness of His presence throughout the day… which means there’s a good chance the cycle will repeat itself that evening because you can’t hear that Still, Small Voice telling you what you really need. 

The Message version of the Bible defines “self-control” as

“Marshaling and directing your energies wisely.”  

I love that definition, because it implies that self-control is not just stopping doing something (which always feels impossible to me).  Self-control can be a forward movement, channeling your energies into wise directions.  

As Kat Lee says, “Choose what you want more over what you want now.” 

For me, that means choosing to close my computer at a decent hour, even if finishing a project is what I desperately want now.  It means winding myself down into sleep early enough to give myself a full 8 hours, so I can actually get up when my alarm goes off, so I can do what I want most: begin the day sitting in Jesus’ presence, receiving a fresh Word of truth. 

Chances are, if I make those choices, everybody’s going to have a better day.  

I might even turn into Supermom overnight. (Hah!)

Along with marshaling my energy wisely, another way I want to practice self-control is to make better strategic choices instead of indulging and then beating myself up.  

Back to the YouTube videos: I think the ever-practical Kat would say, “If your Internet’s slow but you still need your fix, take a minute after breakfast to click on one or two choice videos (to let them load), and then watch them in that right-after-lunch sweet spot when the kids’ tummies are full and they’re happy to play quietly for a half-hour or so.”  (Rather than fending them off at arm’s length with steadily increasing frustration as the Internet stalls again.  And again.)

Now that would be a good strategic choice, and here’s why:  

Limited number of videos (or __insert personal craving here__)

plus maximum enjoyment time (because they’re already loaded)

= controlled indulgence,

which equals sanity and refreshment, instead of guilt and remorse.

Yes!

Marshaling and directing your energies wisely, and controlled indulgence. 

Bingo.  Self-control in a nutshell.  

That Perfect Mom crown you’ve been dreaming about?  

It’s actually within your grasp.  

(Just kidding.)  

But seriously, though.  With Jesus and sleep?  We can do anything.

**********

What keeps you from getting enough Jesus and enough sleep?  Is there something else you’re not getting enough of these days that’s sabotaging your Mom-happiness?

of Sparkly Green Earrings, and grace for recovering perfectionists

Photo credit: William Broughton, age 6

I hate nits.  

I’ve had them one time, and that was one time too many.  

So, just now, I shuddered appreciatively and indulged in an empathetic skin-crawl while reading the chapter called “Nitpicking” in Melanie Shankle’s honest, hilarious book on motherhood, Sparkly Green Earrings.  

Yesterday at nap time I raced through the first 10 chapters, foregoing my doze to gobble up just one more - and then one more - hilarious anecdote about sleep deprivation, potty training, and projectile vomiting.

But in Chapter 17, I found the gem of the book, for me.  The nugget of truth worth the price of the book.  The pearl of wisdom which made me stop in my tracks, switch off my Kindle, lay it on the bedside table, close my eyes, snuggle deep under my blanket, and pray, 

Lord, this is me.  This is SO me.  Help!

Here’s how Melanie ends Chapter 17:

“I think I’d been living under the illusion that I could give Caroline a perfect childhood.  But perfect doesn’t exist in our world. (Oh, how I wish it did!) 

“I can give her love, I can give her laughter, I can instill values and morals in her, I can teach her about Jesus and how he loves her more than she knows, and I can hopefully give her more good memories than bad.

“And I can pick the nits out of her hair, one little larva at a time.

“But I can’t give her perfection, because I’m fresh out. 

“That’s where the grace of God enters, and I exit quietly through the back door, allowing him to fill in the gaps.”

-Melanie Shankle, Sparkly Green Earrings (emphasis mine)

That’s Melanie.  Straight up.  No beating around the bush.  Gut level.  

“I can’t give her perfection, because I’m fresh out.” 

Wham.

Reading those words felt like a punch in the stomach, and also at the same time like a burden lifting off.  

Yes.  That is totally true of me, I thought.  Bravely, I might add.  (For a recovering perfectionist, that’s a big admission.) 

I am fresh out of perfection, much as I try desperately to pretend otherwise every. single. day.  

Whew!  Who needs to try anymore?  I’m done.  I’m done pretending to be perfect, because everyone - including me - knows it’s a big sham.  

And then that beautiful image, the one that had me crawling under my blanket with my eyes closed to savor the comfort:

“That’s where the grace of God enters and I exit quietly through the back door, allowing him to fill in the gaps.”

Yes.  

YES.  

The relief of that picture, an invitation to let go of my striving to be the perfect mother, and just quietly slip out the back door. 

The delightful, dependable ability of God to fill in all the gaps - everything I’ve left undone, all my mistakes, all the things I agonize over not being able to give my children.  

So thank you, Melanie, for putting it all out there, and for expressing truths we all feel but sometimes can’t quite wrap words around.  

And Lord…

Please give me grace, every day, to accept the reality of my limitations.  Help me learn how to rejoice in them, even though right now they make me cringe!

Free me from pride and the desperate need to measure up, so I can live joyfully in your strength, not mine.  

And please fill in all the gaps for my kids, so they learn how to rely on you, too.  

a little girl's miracle {God cares about the sparrow}

She comes to me all in a lather.  

“I can only stay five minutes,” she says apologetically.  “Our relatives who are staying with us are planning a party today and they only told me last night, after they’d already invited everyone!”  My helper shakes her head incredulously.  This is par for the course for these particular relatives of hers, but it’s still stressful every time.    

“So, I’m so sorry I can’t work today - I have to stay home and help them get ready,” she sighs, apologetically.  “And - one other thing…”  

She sits down at my kitchen table.  

“My daughter was sobbing last night, and wouldn’t tell me why.  I had to pry it out of her.  She finally told me today’s the day of the princess pageant at school.  She had told me ages ago but I completely forgot with everything else going on, and she didn’t want to remind me because she didn’t want to cause me more stress… 

“It’s for the 2^nd, 3^rd, and 4^th grades, and each class chose one girl to be their ‘princess’, so there are only 12 girls in the competition.  My daughter’s class chose her, which is a huge honor and it means so much to her.  But it’s today, and she needs a princess costume, AND a dress for dancing - each girl has to either sing a song or perform a dance - AND she needs a basket of flowers, PLUS some kind of ‘fall food’ to present… AND they have to wear some kind of ‘fall fashion’ in the fashion show at the end!  The teachers decide who wins.  I don’t know what to do - she has to be there at noon!”  

I glance at my watch.  It’s 9am.  

We find a basket and some pretty sparkly hairclips. I tell her to raid the garden for the last of the late zinnias.  At the last minute, as she’s about to walk out the door, I remember the loaf of zucchini-carrot bread I’d baked yesterday to help her entertain her unexpected guests, and I grab it out of the fridge and slip it into the basket on her arm… 

I lay my hand on her shoulder and say a quick prayer for her as she leaves - I can see her head is still spinning about how it will all work out.  “It’ll be ok!” I call after her as she trots down the street.  “Don’t worry!”

At 3:30, the phone rings.  “Can I come over for five minutes?”  She comes in and sets my basket on the kitchen table.  My sparkly clips are inside, and the basket is still decorated with festoons of bright pink ribbons.  I can tell she’s tired, but she’s beaming.  

“Thank you so much for all your help - you’ll never believe how well it all worked out!”  She’s visibly relieved.  

I pour tea for both of us, cup my hands around my mug and lean in, elbows on the table.  

“A relative loaned us a princess costume, and another friend’s daughter is a dancer so she let us borrow a dancing dress.  I put my daughter’s hair up in rollers last night, so I just used your clips to pin it back and it looked really pretty.  

"She carried your flowers in the basket when she went onstage, and she gave a nice little introduction of herself to everyone.  She was a little nervous, but when she came backstage afterwards I told her she sounded fine.  Then she danced, and later she told me she just pretended she was all alone in the room and nobody else was there - she did really well!  

“I was wracking my brain at home before we left to think what ‘fall food’ I could make in time, and then I saw it, right in front of me - your cake!  So I sliced it up and put it on a pretty platter, and added some sugar flowers from our next door neighbor who decorates cakes.  I told my daughter what was in it so she could introduce it properly - she told the judges she made it with one of her favorite aunties.”  

This with a bit of a sheepish glance at me, since it wasn’t strictly true.  

I grinned, and said, “Go on.”   

“Well, the teachers loved it!  It was the only thing of its kind - everyone else brought salads.  They thought it was delicious and unique.  Then she needed something to wear in the fashion show, so I pulled out her old potato costume - you know, the one you took a video of her in the fall festival two years ago?  It was a little small, but it still looked really cute and round, and she just wore leggings under it and we filled your basket with potatoes, and I stuck paper potatoes all over a little umbrella, and she came out and said, ‘I’m a potato!’  It was adorable!  And guess what - she won first prize!”

She’s wide-eyed, shaking her head at me, still taking it in.  I’m tickled pink.  

“We prayed, and God really took care of everything, didn’t He?” I say softly.  

She nods.  “He really did.”

“Isn’t amazing your daughter will have this to look back on, as something God did especially for her?  He wants her to know He’s real, and that He loves her so much.”

She’s nodding again.  “I think so too.  She was so excited and relieved, and so thrilled to win the prize!  Thank you so much for your help, it was like a little miracle.”

I’m shaking my head, grinning.  “It was God’s miracle, just for her.  I’m just so glad I could be a part of it!  You know, in the Bible it says God cares about each little sparrow… I think that must include little girls who need princess costumes ASAP!”  

She laughs and nods, and we sip our tea.  

A personalized miracle for one precious little girl.  My day is made.  

first lessons in listening: a letter to myself

{My One Word for 2014 is starting off with a wham!  Today I’m sharing two insights from my first week of active listening.  I’m also joining up with The Grove over at Velvet Ashes on the prompt “A Letter to Self” - making this essay a letter to the parts of me that stand in the way of living out the word “listen”…}

Dear me,

I know you love reading other people’s words, and I know you just bought Lisa McKay’s riveting page-turner of a memoir, and it. is. so. good.  You’ve had your Kindle stuck to your face all afternoon, letting kids and house go unheeded.  

I also know that when you’re enjoying something, you have this incurable and nearly unstoppable desire to share your joy with someone - anyone, really, who’s breathing and within earshot.  Today the hapless recipient happened to be your sweet, patient husband - who, just because he was in the same room, was subjected to long chunks of Love at the Speed of Email...  

Now, here’s Listening Realization #1: At the few excerpts that did spark some conversation, you had to consciously stop yourself from cutting him off barely one sentence into his comment, because you were so eager to share your own insight or opinion.  (Ouch!)  You missed what could have turned into a valuable opportunity to discover something new about your husband (quite possibly the most important person in your life), because you were so caught up in the pleasure of sharing.  

Instead of listening to him, you made him your listener.  Shouldn’t it have been the other way round?

You know, my dear, the saddest part was that he never commented on your behavior and doesn’t even seem put out - the way you would certainly feel if someone had bent your ear for paragraphs and then not paused to let you react or comment!  Doesn’t this fact make you uncomfortably aware that you probably do this often, so much that he’s become used to it?  And… doesn’t that make you a bit sad?

Well, good thing you’ve only been living your word for one week!  Good thing you still have 51 weeks to go, and good thing realization is the first step towards change!

Moving on to Realization #2… 

After dinner, you were about to pick up your Kindle again (leaving the dishes in the sink), and I know you distinctly heard the Holy Spirit say, Put down your book and focus on your daughter until bedtime.  

Now, here’s the scary thing: you actually found yourself seriously considering ignoring Him.  No joke.  I was there, remember?  You even checked your phone to see how long there was until bedtime, thinking frantically, If it’s half an hour, I just can’t wait that long… and you actually felt relieved when you discovered there were only ten minutes left until jammy-time!  

In those next ten minutes, while you dutifully played with your sweet, adorable daughter, you felt the urge to pick up your Kindle no less than three times, and each time (thankfully!) came the Holy Spirit’s counter-command: Resist.  Don’t touch it.  Follow through.  

With diaper on, sleeper zipped and teeth brushed, you sent her toddling off to bestow goodnight kisses on the three men in her life.  And while she was gone you actually found yourself back in her room, picking up your Kindle - almost unconsciously.  (You carried it in there with you to put on her jammies - why in the world?  You weren’t seriously thinking you could read and wipe her bottom at the same time, were you?)

When she came back from giving kisses, she wanted to play peekaboo, a game which she loves and which you hadn’t played all day.  You indulged her for all of about 5 peekaboos and then you scooped her up and sat down in the rocking chair for story-time, still thinking of your book.  

It wasn’t until you had been watching her push buttons up and down one of her board books for a minute or two that a “random” thought pushed its way into your brain: My husband told me three days ago that the father of one of my childhood friends is dying.  

And during the excitement of New Year’s, you realized you had forgotten to follow up.  

It took those scant twenty minutes away from your Kindle to create that little bit of distance necessary to “de-book” your thoughts enough for you to hear clearly.  

You knew it was the Holy Spirit pricking your God-given conscience after dinner to focus on her.  And yet you seriously considered not doing what you knew was the right thing - what God Himself told you to do - in favor of feeding your insatiable appetite for a good story!  Does that scare you? Because it scares me a little.

Just listening isn’t enough, you know.  You are responsible for your response to what you hear. 

And, allowing yourself to get so wrapped up in Lisa's story drove everything else out of your head, including the fact that God wanted to remind you to connect with your friend and ask about her father. 

Now, don’t get me wrong - reading books is all well and good.  In fact, it’s one of the healthiest things you can do for your mind - in moderation.  But if the voice of a book - even a great book - drowns out God’s still small voice, it has become an idol.  

You can’t hear what’s truly important if your ears are too full of other voices.  

So, self!  Welcome to this new year!  Looks like it’s going to be a year of transparency, clarity and a lot of honest reflection.  Hopefully your ears will surprise you with their ability to pick up things you may have missed, tune in to the quieter voices, and pay close attention to that Still Small Voice that has all the comfort and direction you need…

Keep listening, Carolyn!

Love,

Me 

{If you haven't figured it out, I highly recommend Lisa McKay's memoir Love at the Speed of Email… Once I started, I couldn't put it down for two days until I finished, it was that good.  I think you will especially resonate with LIsa if you're currently living overseas or have in the past, but her writing is so down to earth that any reader will enjoy her succinct, funny, poignant descriptions of traveling, cross-cultural adjustment, reverse culture shock, long-distance relationships, and the ultimate question everyone faces eventually - how to define "home"?  And no, no one paid me to write this review!}