Book Review: Everything Sad Is Untrue

 

Everything Sad Is Untrue by Daniel Nayeri was World Magazine's Children's book of the year as well as the winner of more than a dozen other awards in 2020 as listed on the book's website. How does a book win book of the year from both NPR and World? By telling a story within a story within a story in a way that keeps the reader turning pages even after the poop stories become a little much (at least for this mom who has cleaned up her share of same).

The true story is based on the author's memories of his childhood in Iran and as a refugee, and of his memories of stories told to him of ancestors and Persian heroes and villains. While at times it seems disjointed, this weaving of so many stories, is his being Scheherazade, whom he mentions often. She wove stories together for one thousand nights in order to save her life. He weaves stories together to keep you reading and to hold on to his memories of grandparents that he will never see again, of places he can never visit because of his own choices, and of his mother, whose story this really is.

Most of the stories he tells are hard. I don't like to know that children and adults can be so cruel. His mother left everything. She took her children from the safe and prosperous home in Iran to the midnight streets of Dubai to a cement refugee hotel in Italy to the plains of Oklahoma. In all of these places they were outcasts, "gypsies," and foreigners whose home culture was a source of mocking. The smell of their food. The sound of their language. 

She did all this because of one thing. She became a Christian and refused to reveal the other underground believers in Iran. For this, a fatwa was issued for her and her children. So she fled.

The book raises questions in my mind. What am I willing to endure, and to put my children through, for the truth? I have often thought that raising my children to believe in God is the most un-safe thing I can probably do. It may lead to loss of jobs, of friends, and of a normal life. This book shows how valuable her faith was for her and how unstoppable she was in trying to save her children and be true to her faith.

Several videos are available on the book's website with interviews and other glimpses of the author's life. While they were probably designed to make people want to read the book, watching them after reading was like meeting a pen pal, someone only known through letters. 

Five Minute Friday: Anticipate

 Before I started writing, I wanted to see the entomology of "anticipate" 

mid 16th century (in the senses ‘to take something into consideration’, ‘mention something before the proper time’): from Latin anticipat- ‘acted in advance’, from anticipare, based on ante- ‘before’ + capere ‘take’.

This seems to be the meaning of someone anticipating what someone else will say rather than the idea of being excited about something that is coming. It could also be making plans in anticipation of what you think is going to happen.

As someone who struggles with controlling my tongue, I can see the connection. Sometimes I say something before the right time. I anticipate that it is coming with my words rather than waiting for it to happen. The tension of waiting is relieved by talking about it, but then something happens. With that tension gone, the drive to accomplish it is gone.

Right now I am anticipating my husband's decluttering of some areas of our house. Part of me wants to share it with a couple friends who have been praying with me about this. However, I also fear that if I talk about it, it won't happen. The anticipation will dissipate. The action will disappear. 

 Fall Fireworks

If I had come upon this tree during the middle of the summer, I probably would not have noticed it at all. It would have blended in with all the other tall green maples, oaks, and birches along the side of the road. Now, however, as the trees are daily changing their colors, this one stood out. Rather than the usual shape with smaller twigs branching out from the main branch, these seemed to shoot out on their own.  At the tip the leaves shone with a riot of red even though the leaves farther down still held on to their summer green.  The whole effect was like fall fireworks.

The changing of seasons is God's gift. 

Woolly Alder Aphids

 

An Evening Surprise

Last week, my husband and I went for a walk at a nearby nature center, enjoying the late summer evening. As we left the open prairie and entered the wooded area, our eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, and we started down the shaded trail covered with sticks and leaves. We stopped at a trail junction and studied the map to decide which trail to take. Choosing one that would eventually meander through an oak savannah, we struck out again. 

Around another bend, we came upon a surprising sight—a dark branch covered in miniscule white balls. The contrast of the bright white line in the darkening woods was conspicuous, and I couldn’t ignore it. As we approached, the mass of white started to move, slowly at first, with just the tips waving back and forth in unison. After a minute, the entire branch was moving with thousands of tiny white bugs, covered in a woolly substance, dancing on the leaves and branches. What was this? We continued on our way, finding several more trees each with a single branch covered in the fascinating creatures. 

As we first approached, the branches were still until something caused an alarm. Then they started their dancing. I will admit to creating some alarm by blowing at them or poking them with a branch. We stood transfixed as the undulating movement spread from the tip of the branch, along the tributaries and leaves, and became a river of white. Under each covered branch was a waxy black patch on the forest floor. 

Reluctantly we continued on our way after taking pictures and videos. It was getting dark. Who knew what these creatures would become once the sun went down! At home, we researched and learned that they are woolly alder aphids, a species that consumes the sap and excretes a sticky, sugary substance loved by ants and other insects. A spontaneous evening walk gave us a glimpse of yet another of God’s surprising creatures. 

Book Review: Things Seen from Above

 

First, a bit of background. Each month, a group of about fifteen teens gather in my living room to talk about books. I started our homeschool literary club about four years ago when my second oldest was entering high school. After a series of discussions turned monologues about literature with my oldest son, I was determined to do better. So I invited some of her friends to read a book and talk about it.  Most of the first group have graduated, but they all have younger siblings who are now joining the ranks. Choosing books for this group is by far the hardest part. So this month, I decided to let them pick, but from a specific list: World Magazine's Children's Books of the Year.   Before I offered them the list,  I had to read all the books myself. Over the next few weeks, I'll be sharing reviews of the five books they chose, ending with their top choice for book of the year.

First up--Things Seen from Above by Shelley Pearsall.  This was one of World Magazine's runners up for 2021. As the book opens, 6th grader April has chosen to spend her lunch time as a buddy for the fourth grade recess. Her reasons will resonate with anyone who has had to deal with the awkwardness of sixth grade and quickly shifting friendships. She notices one boy in particular who keeps to himself, sometimes lying in the wood chips, other times moving in circles.

Like any well-informed student of this century, she immediately wonders if he has autism and notices that the other children mostly avoid him. As she begins to befriend him, the reader also has a glimpse into Joey's thoughts. April also makes friends with the other sixth grade buddy, a new girl whose family is Indian and doesn't feel like she fits in well either.

If there is conflict in this story, it occurs as April tries to make the rest of the school see what Joey sees and what Joey makes. The author does not make April try to change Joey. Rather, the other children are changed, even if only temporarily, by their interactions with Joey and his art.

Shelley Pearsall has experience with schools and classrooms as a former teacher. But this story has personal connections due to a nephew with some special gifts.

Although my children are sheltered from the bullying and cruelty that happens in a school setting, they need to be aware of it because they have friends who are not sheltered from it. Even in our home school circles, children can still be unkind to those who are new or are not like them. Seeing life from someone else's perspective is the first step toward compassion for them.

Possible: Five Minute Friday

 What is possible for me today? The word "possible" means "able to be done; within the power or capacity of someone or something" What is within my capacity to do today?  This is part of the secret of contentment and peace. What is possible for me, for today, with the time, people and gifts I have? Recognizing what is possible for me also brings thanksgiving because it is not possible for many others.

It is possible that:

I will start our school day (soon) with reading the Bible and practicing a memory verse. This is not possible in many other countries.

I will do math and writing and spelling with my 10 year old. We will sit on the couch while I read Justin Morgan Had a Horse and share a smile over Marguerite Henry's ability to paint pictures with words. Not everyone has this possibility.

I will meet two friends for lunch, share our joys and struggles, and laugh a lot. Many do not have friends or the ability to drive or pay for a lunch out.

I will work this afternoon for a wonderful company, with co-workers who inspire me to love our customers well and serve them with joy.

Today's possibilities are good.

Five Minute Friday: Redeem

As a nearly lifelong, immersed-in-evangelical-Christianity woman, I have heard the word redeemed over and over. It is in our hymns (There is a Redeemer, Redeemed by the blood of the lamb, and so many more) and our Bible stories (Ruth). But as a lifelong lover of words, it helps me to know what a word means.

Redeem:: to compensate for the faults or bad aspects of something, atone or make amends for.

Christ has done more than compensate for my faults or bad aspects. He has replaced my unrighteousness with his righteousness. He has atoned for my sin, all of them, knowing I would do them. Not after the fact, but before I was even born.

As one who has been redeemed, I have "gained something in exchange for payment," but I did not make that payment. Christ did. He paid and I was redeemed.

This is the hope of the resurrection, the proof of my redemption.

Book Review: A Long Road on a Short Day

 

A boy and his father trek through the snow in what seems to be a fool's errand. Who would trade a milk cow for a pocket knife? But that is just what Samuel and Papa set out to do on a cold day with a storm coming in A Long Road on a Short Day by Gary Schmidt and Elizabeth Stickney, with illustrations by Eugene Yelchin. 

I heard about the book on Read Aloud Revival, and their description and comparison to Ox Cart Man (a favorite) had me opening my library tab to request it. Living in the same region as Gary Schmidt almost guarantees that our library will have his books, and they did not disappoint this time. 

After a Saturday full of chores, I sat on the floor to organize the library bookcase (no, we don't just have a shelf, we have a small bookcase to hold all the books we request from the library.) My daughter had picked up books on hold earlier. I decided to sit a while longer and read this one.  After just one reading, I'm adding it to my wishlist.  We are never too old for beautiful stories.

Schmidt excels at showing us the characters through their (few) words. A loving husband and father. An obedient son (who often wishes his mother did not want a milk cow). Neighbors who see the value in a trade that allows the family to obtain what they need. It is the story of a community that looks out for one another while maintaining dignity of one another. Schmidt shows the value of hard work, persistence, family, and a little something extra.

The rhythm of the words, the repetition of phrases, and the progression of the story brought me to New England even though the setting is never stated. The illustrations reminded me of a combination of  Richard Scarry's Little Bunny and Barbara Cooney's many works. Samuel's red nose, the clouds of snow, and the hint of a trade at the start of each chapter combine to tell the story alongside the words. The illustrations and words pull the reader to see just how Papa is going to procure a milk cow with only a pocket knife.

Highly recommended!

Possible: Five Minute Friday

A weekend in Florida in February? Could it be possible? Could it be able to be done; within the power or capacity of someone or something?

It started as a comment in our group Skype chat during a break in the customer service calls, chats, and emails. We work remotely and hadn't all met one another in person. It seemed like an impossible dream.

Two of us from the midwest would meet in Indianapolis and fly. Two others from the Carolinas/Georgia would drive together. We would meet at a friend's in the Jacksonville area. Sunshine was calling.

What was possible changed with time. One of those coming ended up with covid and couldn't travel. Our hostess' husband was working from home, so we switched to a rental instead of invading her home.

And it happened. What we thought might be an impossible dream became possible, a reality.  Four days away from snow, cold winds, and clouded skies. A day of working and collaborating and exchanging ideas. A day to walk the streets of St. Augustine and learn about each other's likes and quirks and joys and struggles. A day to walk on the beach and soak up as much sunshine as we could. Evenings spent grading papers, discussing reading strategies, and comparing customer stories.

The possible happened and may just become a tradition.

Still: A Year Later

Last year this time, I had no idea how applicable my Christmas letter was going to be.  I had written it with the theme of "Still," playing with the word as a "life is still the same" as well as the idea of the still of Christmas.  As I addressed the letters, Maggie was beginning her ordeal with macrophage activation syndrome, but we didn't know it then.  In less than two weeks, she went from being a normal, bouncy 15 year old to having a fever and a slight rash to being intubated, sedated, and on a ventilator, fighting for her life in the PICU at DeVos Children's Hospital.



And there was nothing I could do but be there.  I spent a lot of time being still.



And stillness characterized much of the months as she slowly began to recover.  To avoid the virulent strains of influenza, we hunkered down at home, emerging only for physical therapy or blood tests. We missed church and school activities.  I went for a month without entering a grocery store, thanks to the generosity of friends and Ray shopping for us.
I'm still working on the lessons God is teaching us through this.  Maggie is still recovering-her stamina isn't what it used to be. I am still learning how much we can reasonably expect to get done and participate in. For her, I think this is the hardest part now-not just the fear of this coming back, but the way it brought her forward momentum to a standstill.
God is still on his throne and working all things together for his good. Resting in that is the key to my spirit being still.