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1000 Things

It’s the first Friday of February, and so it’s time again to remember all the things I’ve had to be grateful for in the past month. I managed to list nearly 400 things since my last gratitude post, but I won’t include them all here. (Now you have something to be grateful for!)

Here are a few things I noticed that made my heart glad:

65. Raindrops on the window and dripping from the branches of the fig tree.

69. Christmas Day in the Morning by Pearl S. Buck, illustrated by Mark Buehner–such a lovely story, so beautifully illustrated.

72. Once more, my morning cup of tea–which Doug faithfully makes day after day.

83. The evergreens marching along the ridge in the distance.

104. Mighty-O donuts.

118. My kids are still sleeping, so I have time to journal.

139. Kleenex.

140. No day lasts forever. They always, mercifully, end.

166. Insomnia. It means I’m up and writing at 5:02.

177. The Seattle Public Library.

200. The way both my kids mispronounce “breakfast.” Jack: breckfixt. Jane: beckfitst.

226. The Divine Hours by Phyllis Tickle

249. I finished writing my week of meditations on the lectionary for the 2011 Disciplines.

263. The shiny gloss of the knobs on my bedposts.

285. Bacon with breakfast.

313. Stewed prunes don’t taste as disgusting as they look.

335. Reading Winnie-the-Pooh to the kids–the real ones by A.A. Milne, not the dumbed-down Disney version.

353. I felt well yesterday.

364. Bread hot from the oven. Mmmmm.

389. Cherry blossoms.

411. Jane held my hand the entire time I was reading her “Beauty and the Beast” (from Berlie Doherty’s Fairy Tales collection).

421. It’s been a tough, even heartbreaking, week, for reasons I don’t feel at liberty to disclose, but even in the midst of dark and difficult times, God is near. We just have to keep our eyes, and our hearts, open, so we can see when and where and how He cares for us.

As we move into a new month, may each of us see the abundance of gifts and blessings that are our lives.

Hacker Alert

Hi friends,

I’m sorry to say, my site has been hacked. You may find that you are redirected to one of several sites while reading mine. We are working to fix this (by which I mean, my computer geek/genius husband is working to fix this). In the meantime, you can thwart the hacker by disenabling JavaScript on your browser (go to tools/options or preferences).

Thanks for your patience!

Kimberlee

A Wrinkle in Time

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle, winner of the 1963 Newbery Medal.

Wrinkle in TimeI am not sure Madeleine L’Engle’s book would have been published in today’s market. It starts very slow, taking three chapters to introduce all the main characters and raise a question: where is Meg’s father and why hasn’t he contacted them in over a year? The quest to find her father doesn’t begin till chapter four—page 56 in my version!

Now, I love this book, and I know the end is worth every word I read to get there. But someone who’s never read this book doesn’t know that. And from the (admittedly limited) feedback I’ve gotten about my novel, slow doesn’t hook. Of course, Madeleine L’Engle endured an entire decade of rejection when she tried to get A Wrinkle in Time published, so maybe slow didn’t hook in the 1950’s, either.

The thing is, I’m not sure how else she could have written the story. Dropping us into the middle of the quest to find Meg’s father might have worked to add more excitement right off the bat, but how to explain Calvin’s presence and Charles Wallace’s precociousness and the Missuses Whatsit, Who, and Which?

Some books are slow burners. They kindle a little interest at the beginning, introduce you to a character you want to know more about, raise a question or two that pique your interest. And then they slowly, slowly, flicker into flame until you get to the end, and there’s an enormous conflagration, and you realize with satisfaction that the fire started with that little spark and that it was, in fact, inevitable once the spark caught.

This is a book like that. It explores the nature of space and time and love and freedom, but it does so slowly, unfolding like a flower, at its own pace, in its own way. I like that—that it doesn’t try to be something it’s not (a fast-paced thriller, for instance), that it doesn’t conform to the “rules” that fiction is supposed to follow (there are, for example, several characters who make but one appearance in the story), that it, instead, reaches for something beyond those rules, for truth that can only be expressed in story, in this story, told this way.

Perhaps that is why this book ultimately won a Newbery—because it is true and beautiful and reminds us who we are and what we are capable of.

If you’ve not read this book and would like a free copy, I’m giving mine away. I warn you, though: it’s a mass market version that is hideously ugly in the way that only books printed in the 70’s can be. And it’s been well-loved (including a possible douse in the bathtub or some other body of water…). But it’s totally readable, and it’s free for the asking. Just leave a comment and Jack-the-random-number-generator will pick a winner. I’ll announce who it is next Tuesday.

2 Newbery books down; 87 to go. Next up: Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan

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