More Free Books!

If you’re the lucky owner of a portable reader such as a Kindle or a Nook, you’ll be dancing in your pajamas to know that a few great books are being offered as free downloads through next week–just in time for your upcoming winter vacation or the unexpected wait at your dental office.

One of the book offerings is the amazing Daisy Chain by Mary DeMuth; Daisy Chain is the first in the Defiance Texas Trilogy, and was reviewed here last fall along with the second book in the trilogy, A Slow Burn. I am excited to let you know that I will also be acting as an influencer/reviewer for Mary’s latest release, Thin Places, out this January. I’ll be posting my review of this heartbreaking and redemptive memoir on Tuesday, and hope you’ll come back with your entire world of friends to check it out.

Read more about how you can download your free eBooks HERE.

Drumroll, please!

Congratulations to Kamarah S!  As the person who referred the most folks to this contest, Kamarah will be the recipient Gary Thomas’ latest book, Pure Pleasure: Why Do Christians Feel So Bad About Feeling Good?, courtesy of Zondervan Publishers.

Thanks to all who participated and as always, to you for reading.

Update your iPod

Sometimes I find myself dreamily swaying back and forth, occupying a snatch of time that feels special, different.  I look to my right and see smiles, to my left, hear laughter, and know that God has given this moment for us to enjoy.  And in His grace and love, he gives it freely to all–even to those who will not credit Him with the gift.

Two weeks ago I got to see Brandi Carlile perform at a local venue here in Grand Rapids.  My concert buddy and I had been introduced to her months before as the opening act for The Indigo Girls.  It was a gorgeous summer evening in a semi-outdoor concert hall nestled at the heart of an age-old forest.  The lake adjacent to us glittered back the drooping late-day sunshine and lapped softly against the beach that remained hidden from view.  [What could be more lovely?] My, oh my.  I fell in love with Interlochen, and I fell in love with Brandi.

I’m a sucker for girls or guys who can pick up a guitar and possess it in such a way that it nearly becomes an extension of their bodies–an extremity allowing them to open their souls with poetry and tempo and meter.  If those girls or guys can write songs that wield power enough to hush a crowd or rouse them to frenzy, I’m gone.  My heart and spirit connect to music the way that others connect with paint or cooking or building streetrods.

Watching this variety of soul expression in Interlochen and again in Grand Rapids this January leaves me slack-jawed with equal parts envy and admiration.  Some day when I can afford one-on-one guitar lessons [preferably with John Mayer] at my beach house [preferably in Southern California], I’ll work my fingers bloody to achieve even the repetitive and elementary notes of Jingle Bells or Happy Birthday.  But until then, I wipe the drool from my mouth and sway dreamily in the presence of music and musicians like Brandi.

If you’re looking to update your iPod and you enjoy folk/rock, check out Brandi’s album The Story, or her new album with a new Elton John collaboration: Give Up The Ghost.

Ready your handkerchief for drool–and don’t say I didn’t warn you.

WIN THIS BOOK!

Zondervan was gracious enough to provide me with a second copy of this book to pass along to my masses of spellbound and excited readers [cough]; to that end I am happy to launch a spiderweb contest to determine the winner.

Yes, I made up that descriptor.

At any rate, if you’re dying to read Gary’s book [you should be] but you can’t justify yet another trip to the bookstore [I'm with you] or you just lost your Kregel coupon in a pile of dirty snow [how unfortunate], TODAY’S YOUR LUCKY DAY!

HERE ARE THE RULES:

To enter the contest, please:
1.  Post a link to this entry from your own blog or Facebook page.

2.  Add a comment below below stating where you posted the link.

3.  Friends who see your link should leave a comment stating that “Sheila told me about this contest”; if these friends want to be entered themselves, they should also post a link to their blog or Facebook page.

4.  The person who refers the most people to this contest by noon on Friday [2/5] wins the free book!

Good Luck!! This book is worth it!

PS:  If you haven’t heard of Gary Thomas’ latest book yet, you can read my review here.  I also wrote about honoring God with our view of food [one of Gary's topics]; you can read that post here.

Pure Pleasure, by Gary Thomas

Check back tomorrow to see how you can win a copy of this book, courtesy of Zondervan Publishers!

Little did I know when I tore into the envelope that I was the lucky recipient of something I never knew I needed.  With the kitchen finally quiet, I embarked on the kind of delightful journey one rarely finds in non-fiction: a work so thoughtful and sown with so much depth, my underlining pencil never left my fingertips.  Pure Pleasure: Why Do Christians Feel So Bad About Feeling Good? would change me.

I grew up in a Christian home with parents who were raised under the pressed thumb of loving, yet legalistic parents.  My dad, in particular, often recounted wonderful, innocent opportunities he missed out on as a child because his mother and father thought they were “sinful.”  Riding a bike on Sunday.  Playing organized sports.  Befriending Christians of different persuasions: all “sinful.” And while I always had an ache in my gut, a rebellion to this errant type of Christianity, I never had the words to describe why it might ache the very heart of God. Gary Thomas most eloquently explains why:

“Prayer and fellowship are among life’s richest pleasures, but let’s not stop there.  Let us learn to fill our souls with beauty, art, noble achievement, fine meals, rich relationships, and soul-cleansing laughter.  When we acknowledge these pleasures, we acknowledge God as a genius creator of brilliant inventions.  Let us be wary of a faith that denies these blessings as “worldly” and unfit, as though Satan rather than God had designed them.  Let us refuse to fall into the enemy’s trap of denying ourselves God’s good pleasures so that we end up deeply vulnerable to illicit pleasure.”  [pg. 17]

In my estimation, the strength of Thomas’ writing is threefold: amazing research and breadth of literature upon which to draw, impeccable theology drenched in insight, and wisdom sprouting from love, compassion, and truth.  Time after time as I folded over yet another page corner, I found myself saying, “Wow.  That is so true.” And to be honest, while I knew I would enjoy the book, I didn’t fully reckon the weight it would have on my thinking.

The scaffolding undergirding this book comes from the considerable attention given to Scripture, fortifying the position that our joy matters to God.  Thomas’ scholarly approach unfolds a new picture of who God is, pointing to the life of Christ for examples and instruction, and laying out sound defense for soaking up pleasures as good gifts from the Father.   So that we may better claim this joy, Thomas asserts that we must spend time discovering what things truly give us pleasure.  For some of us, the beach and a good book are all we need!  Others enjoy physical fitness, travel, cooking or baking, photography, golf, or motorcycles.  Whatever it is, these gifts, when in healthy balance, are to be accepted with gratitude.

Thomas points out, however, that many folks are still hung-up on the old way of thinking: if pleasure involves laughter and does not explicitly carve out time for prayer, this time is not quite as well spent as it would be within the four walls of a church. Nonsense, says Thomas.  God is the creator of everything! And while considerable attention is given to the balance and control we must exert to remain pure in heart, he is quick to point out that our enjoyment of healthy pleasures gives God great joy–perhaps much like the joy an earthly father feels watching his spellbound children swoon over Christmas presents.

In a world so bombarded with instant gratification of all kinds, Pure Pleasure also provides the kind of practical guidance we need to navigate confusing passageways.   Thomas includes invaluable information on “spiritual ferns”, those innocuous things in our lives that may cause us to stumble or falter.  He challenges us to be honest about our limitations and boundaries, and to recognize the dangers that come from both avoidance and exhaustion: “If your spiritual enemy can’t get you to apply the brakes to keep you from ministering, he may well try to get you to push the gas pedal to the floor, hoping to drive you off a cliff.” [pg. 122]

The author arranges this book in fourteen chapters which are brought to a close with questions for discussion and reflection.  For those desiring further study and contemplation, the end of the book offers additional small group discussion questions, guiding the reader to purchase optional videos available online.

When I received this book, I didn’t realize I had so much to learn about the heart of God or about how he wants to father us.  I didn’t realize that our enjoyment of life’s good things is so vital to effective witness and healthy spirituality–that God gives us these things, often times, as a protection from dangerous pleasures.  And that if we’d just lean back and drop into the arms of God and accept these things, we’d be all the better for it.

Bravo, Gary!  Reading your book, for me, was a pure pleasure.

-  -  -  -  -  -  -  -

Thank you, Zondervan Publishers, for graciously providing me with two copies of this book, and to The Blog Tour Spot for including me in this tour.

All Hail Hallmark!

When the “rewards” coupon comes in the mail, I’m the sucker who can’t wait to race out the door to Betty’s–Hallmark, that is.  I love walking into the dreamy ambiance full of pretty bags and holiday decorations, and hearing the clerk greet me in her usual soothing tone, “Hi, there. Welcome.”

Welcome, indeed.

The subtle smell of candles reminds me that I am on sacred ground: no rice has been burnt here, no bacon grease sent splattering, no wet dog slogging down the aisles.  Time alone at the Hallmark is my sanctuary.  I’d be willing to bet the farm, proverbially speaking, that if a neurologist hooked me up to expensive monitoring devices during my escape he would literally see my heart rate fall, my breathing deepen, my brain waves align, and my Seratonin levels spike.

Perhaps this is partly due to the fact that selecting wonderful cards may just be my true spiritual gift–and perhaps working in that giftedness provides calm.  I pour over the cards, reading each one, pausing to consider who might be pleasantly surprised to receive it in the mail.  My feet take me across the carpet, weave me between aisles and right up to my willing death:  the clearance rack.  That’s where the budget gets blown, and that’s precisely how I’ve become a Platinum Gold Crown card-carrier.  And proud of it.

Last Saturday I was able reclaim a scrap of time to get over to Betty’s, and found all sorts of treasures.  I won’t publish exactly how much I spent, but I consider it part of my tithe [kind of]… since it blesses others.   Don’t you think it’s worth it to brighten a day by sending a card that just says, “I know you’re sick of wiping poopy butts and blowing running noses and making meals that few appreciate.  But I appreciate you and I just wanted to let you know.”

Well, whether you agree or not, I love cards, and in my next life I’m sure I’ll own my own Hallmark store and have my own line filled with hilarious adventures and off-color jokes.

For now, however, I’m cheering for the brilliant folks who come up with things like this: itty bitty greetings for you to pop into your kid’s lunch box or backpack.  This particular one is a “school pack,” although I also got one that was more general encouragement and praise.  Each card is roughly the size of a pack of gum and you’ll get 8 cards in each pack.

So for all of you encouragers out there looking to add a smile to someone’s sandwich, run to your nearest Hallmark, breathe in the scents, live in the calm and serenity, and grab a handful of cards.  Make it your goal to send at least one to someone each week…and see how the blessing may be returned to you.

Living with Prepositions

It seems this blog has become my own private confessional.  Be warned: you are all priests and I expect absolution at the end of this post.

I regret to inform you, as I’ve regretted admitting to myself, that I’m living in a land of prepositions.  My favorite of the moment appears to be about.

I have a mental list of things I should be doing.  I spend considerable time thinking about them.  Planning to someday do them.  Lately I’ve been fairly convinced that if I just had a pretty bulletin board with artsy magnets and textured paper to “organize” my goals, then I’d do them, without a doubt.  I’d have various sections for all the flotsam wandering around in my brain; there would be bright colors and curliques and meaningful doodles.  And surely, then my prepositions would turn to verbs and I’d actually accomplish something!

Here’s my list on its virtual bulletin board:

1.  [This section would be pink and would include paper with scalloped edges.] I spend a lot of time thinking about writing a book or an article, but I know that I am not doing the hard work it will take for that to happen.  For real, Jane–just post something on this blog more than once a week!  Get out there and “Make it work!”  I’m sure that if I had an office designed by Nate Berkus that I positively loved and wanted to cry with joy at the sight of it, I certainly would not have this struggle.

2.  [Green paper donning a work-out chart]  Run another 5K this spring.  I think about that.  I also think about actually running anywhere right now and quickly slap my own face and put myself in time-out.  On the couch.  With the remote.  My excuse: It’s too cold and I’m barely subsisting on root vegetables.  The only way I’m running is if Richard Simmons himself shows up and threatens to impose his hairdo on my scalp.

3.  [Light blue for "to-do" lists]  I need to wake up earlier.  I would get a lot more done.  Because clearly, I can’t even keep cobwebs out of our Christmas tree or laundry from forming its own continent on our dining room table.  I think about these things while I’m lying in bed, convincing myself that it’s so much more “worth it” to pass another 20 minutes on high-thread-count sheets than to get up and stare at my dirty toilet.  After all, my brain tells me, a rested mama is a happy mama, so ‘you’re really doing your family a favor.’ I love my talking brain.

4.  [Yellow: books I want to read, those I have read this year, and my prayer list]   I need to spend more time reading and praying.  Period.  Why is this hard?  This is hard because People Magazine exists and has taken up residence in our home.  This is also hard because I like to check my email and facebook page, and there seems to be a strange magnetic pull between my body and this computer.

OK.  That’s it.

Even though it’s more than a little humbling to reveal my shortcomings to the faceless world of cyberspace, I’m clinging to the theory that if I write them down, I’ll somehow be held accountable to taking positive steps away from prepositions and toward VERBS.

So I’m curious: do you have a virtual bulletin board?

What’s on yours for 2010?

An Apple At Dawn

It is before 5 am as I sit here with my apple.

People who know me will realize that something is strangely amiss that I would be pulled from the warmth of the bed I love to descend to a computer and a rigid wooden chair before dawn.

The culprit?  I am seriously hungry.  [Hungry, people--not pregnant].

In light of the tragedies in Haiti and the devastating and legitimate hunger of others around the world, I will not say that I am starving.

I am not starving. Thank God–truly.

But I am seriously hungry.

Ten days ago I started a detox to help reposition my view of food and hopefully to change some habits that I was ready to conquer.  This particular detox demands that for 28 days I eat sugar-free, dairy-free [eggs OK for part], gluten-free, and beef/pork-free.  Additionally, at specific times of the plan [like this week], I am to cut out even lean meats like chicken and turkey, nuts, beans & legumes, and eggs.  This is all supplemented with certifiably “yummy” shakes [read: grainy, gritty, and taste like a pile of wet autumn leaves].  That’s why I woke up hungry.  Fruits, veggies, and rice, while delicious, aren’t really giving me the satisfaction that a warm and crusty piece of toast would, carefully smothered in jam and served still-warm on my plate.

My love of sugar, in fact my felt need for sugar, was something I did not run away from.  I loved to sit with a glass of Coke–or three–or mix up a batch up chocolate chip cookies so I could devour a respectable portion of the dough.  And don’t even get me started on the holy grail of chocolate and peanut butter.  My goodness.  That has the prospect of taking on a life of its own.

I began to acknowledge patterns I had long denied or downplayed.  Like how my lack of self-discipline when confronted with certain things meant that food didn’t submit to me and my fork, but that I submitted to it. And the more I’ve been learning about enjoying pleasures and following Jesus, the more I realized that this kind of submission will only be realized when put in right relationship with my heart and faith.  Giving free reign to self-indulgence doesn’t seem like the best way to move through life.  At least not for me.

As I’ve mentioned before, I had the distinct joy of reading Gary Thomas’ latest book, Pure Pleasure:  Why Do Christians Feel So Bad About Feeling Good? [I'll be reviewing this book and offering the chance to win a free copy on my blog next week!]  Gary approaches the subject of pleasure in such new and interesting ways I was unable to put this book down.  While he lauds accepting gifts of relationships, food, hobbies, and intimacy with open and grateful hearts, he cautions how blind abandon can, though won’t always, lead to sin. His chapter entitled “Dangerous Pleasures” gave me particular pause as I contemplated this detox:

“I grew up in a conservative Baptist church.  Many of the older widows wouldn’t be caught dead saying “heck” or “gosh,” much less their demonic counterparts.  They wouldn’t think of watching an R-rated movie or, sin of all sins, participating in a poker game. But they would all but clean out the desserts during potluck.  Perhaps bereft of many common pleasures, they gorged without restraint when an “acceptable” pleasure sat before them, in much the same way that a climber atop Mount Everest desperately tries to suck down some air…

“…It would be a monstrosity of a generalization (as well as a lie) to suggest that being holy means being thin.  God creates different body types, and it can be just as much a sin of vanity to spend hours crafting a certain physique as it can be a sin of gluttony to exert no control over our food appetites.  So without referring to body size, let me gently ask you this:  Does your discipline toward food honor God? Is your witness undercut by your failure to control, or even address, this particular issue? [emphasis mine]  Ultimately, only God knows.  I raise the issue primarily because it would be simplistic to talk about “dangerous” pleasures and ignore the most common, and therefore perhaps the most dangerous, pleasure of all–gluttony.”  [pgs. 150-152]

Am I the only one who reads this and says, “Ouch“?

Maybe I wasn’t cleaning out the dessert table at potlucks, but that doesn’t mean I have the right to ignore patterns of indulgence in my life.  I want to honor God with a right view of food–one that allows me to enjoy the distinct pleasure of sharing a meal with friends, one that sees the gift in slowly enjoying and savoring my [one] piece of dessert, and one that reminds me that I eat to live–not live to eat.

Credit: CNN.com

So in these pre-dawn hours I think on these things.  I remember that the inconvenience of giving up chicken and bread is a daily circumstance beyond the control of billions of truly hungry people around the world.  That most people on our planet won’t have fresh fruit and vegetables today.  That most people will be grateful for a bowl of rice and nothing more.  That most people don’t even have a glass of clean water to drink.

My heart splits open at the images flashing across my TV screen.  Children wandering along, crying out for relief.  Mothers now merely existing with souls ripped out at the loss of family.  Brothers and sisters scrounging for scraps of food, praying for deliverance from their hell on earth.  All while I sit comfortably on my sofa, wrapped in a blanket, sipping my tea, lamenting a 4 week loss of bread and jam.

I think of them.  I remember that my brief sacrifice is small and ordinary.  That it is optional.  I remember that my hunger is temporary and laughable.  My sleeplessness: a poignant reminder that at dawn and always, my heart sings with gratitude for the gifts and provisions of God.

For an apple.

And for so much more.

BNE: Best Neighbors Ever

I first crossed over the asphalt divide six years ago with a plate of monster cookies and a welcome note, hoping that the new people across the street would be, at the very least, pleasant.  What I never even considered was that they might become helping-hands, egg-lenders and sugar-borrowers, and in the end, true friends.  As the pages on the calendar tore away and we came to be surrounded on both sides by such people who give and take in the most harmonious way, my husband and I have soaked up the kind of blessings that make us want to leave the porch light on just a little longer.

It turns out that one of the monster cookie recipients isn’t just a good neighbor to me, she’s a good neighbor to her friends across the country and around the world.  Kamarah is giving and judicious, kind and compassionate.  And when Shannon McNeil, a college friend from her days at Taylor University, was leveled with the unimaginable news that both of her children had a degenerative disease that would one day claim their lives, Kamarah knew that doing nothing just wasn’t an option.

Joining forces with another mutual college friend, Michelle Montenegro who now resides in Costa Rica, Kamarah helped to form A Hundred for a Home, a non-profit fundraiser aiming to raise $400,000 so that the McNeil’s will be able to purchase the kind of handicap-accessible home they so desperately need.  In light of their work I am so excited to share that these heroic efforts have been highlighted in the February 2010 edition of The Ladies’ Home Journal!  [Click on image; see the center article under "Shout-Outs"].

Join me in saluting the love and hard work that drives good friends to be good neighbors.  And if you feel so moved, check out the Hundred for a Home website or leave a note on Kamarah’s blog.

Quote, Unquote

Tonight I walked my oldest son to his room to spend a little time with him before bed.  He treasures these moments–almost longs for them in the way that I long for chocolate desserts and the pleasure of new slippers.  He thinks of all kinds of off-the-wall topics to discuss and touches my face and pats my shoulders.  I love it.  I love it because it is so purely J and because I know it won’t last forever.

I lay down on the bed next to him briefly, staring up at the ceiling and enjoying the familiarity of our old mattress.  J asked me to tell him stories about when I was little [which I deferred to grandma, who will be coming over tomorrow with photos in tow.]   I turned to face him in the dusky dim, rubbed his back and said, “Oh, I just love you, J.  You’re my big boy.”

To which he, ever lovingly responded, “I love you, too.  You’re my big mama.”