When Reading Equals Sheer Joy

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Book Review: That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon by Kimberly Lemming

There are days (sooooo many days) when all you need is a bit of something fun. Whether that is a game, a movie, a show, or whatever. For me…that is often (frequently, usually) books. And I have been in desperate need of something riotously fun lately. Not that the books I have read so far this year haven’t been awesome; they absolutely have. But there are some books that are just plain, laugh-out-loud fun. Kimberly Lemming’s Mead Mishap series is definitely in that category. In fact, it might be its current Queen.

I mean, let’s start off with just the titles: Book #1 is entitled That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon, continued with That Time I Got Drunk and Yeeted a Love Potion at a Werewolf, and finally culminating in That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Human. On that basis alone, how could you NOT want to know more of what these stories are about?? Not to even mention the gorgeous covers. Oh, so to die for! Each shows a perfectly adorable and hilarious spin on the classic romance novel cover, including handsome men in shirts that are either suspiciously deep-cut around the chesticle area or just falling off due to the garment’s lack of will to stay put on its wearer.

What next and definitely attracted me about these covers was this: all of the main women are women of color. And we aren’t talking about just your willowy, woodbine, fiery-haired damsels either. These are short, strong heroines with skin that warms and glows, bodies that range the gorgeous variety between svelte and thicc with generous busts and hips, adorned with pink hair, braids, and wild curls. Women who love food and coziness, with strong hearts, sharp minds, and tongues to match. In short, all of them look like me! In a fantasy-romance novel! Oh, my stars! I had no chance of saving myself.

Beyond these already-tempting details, these books are bonafide geeky. There are little Easter eggs and pithy references that will make your inner D&D party member giggle gleefully. Yes, they are romances so there are indeed spicy scenes but, on the whole, the selling point of these books is that they are just FUN! I laughed more than anything, re-reading particular paragraphs or whole scenes just because they made me smile and giggle.

Let me tell you this: a book like that is a treasure. Not only a good read but fun to read. A book that gives you unmitigated joy is an absolute jewel. Lemming does not claim her books to be tomes of the highest literary order, not a chance (Have you seen this delightful human’s endpage bio? You should!). But what she has gifted us with are books that bubble over with readerly joy.

I needed that joy this week. It’s the fourth quarter, testing season, and everyone is just done! I do not blame them–students, teachers, or administrators–it has been a…what’s a diplomatic word?…fustercluck of a school year, and the emotional drain and saturation are real. We can all use an infusion of joy wherever we are able to find it at this time.

So for that I say HUZZAH and THANK YOU, Kimberly Lemming! Your Mead Mishaps came along at just the needed time for me, and I cannot wait to read the rest of them. I appreciate and laud you and your work and all the joy that it undoubtedly brings to myself and countless others! You are amazing!

Stark Bright Moments in the Snow

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Late this morning, the snow began to fall. We have not had a proper snowfall this winter and today seemed desperate to make up for that. It has been snowing for close to 8 hours while the world has transformed. And quieted.

I know I have written before about the profound silence of snowfall and the peace that it brings me. Today, when I got home with my kiddo, I let them thump their way upstairs while I took my sweet time divesting myself of my things. When I heard their bedroom door shut and knew my husband to also be safely ensconced in his office, I pulled my arm warmers back on, wrapped up in a fleece shawl, and slipped out the front door to sit on our porch to watch the snow fall.

As I sat there, I let the silence of the snow wrap around me. After hours, days, a week of words and movement and change and work, I deeply needed silence. Even if just for a few moments. So I sat very still and watched my little neighborhood become Narnia as the outside lamps and lights of the houses turned on amidst the swirling snow. Snowfalls can make the familiar magical, the rush slower, the busy calmer. I welcomed it, breathed it in.

I sat there until my fingers grew cold beneath my shawl and the wool of my arm-warmers. But, before I could move to go inside, I was surprised by a flash of color through the white. Bright red. A cardinal. Then another shot by to join the first in the neighbors’ tree, shaking the snow from branch to ground as they hopped from limb to limb.

I smiled to myself and could not help but think, a story line unfurling in my mind like the runner on a dining room table. “Cardinals love the snow. They love to splash and flap in it, washing their ruby feathers until they shine and their color glows bright against the stark white. They are one of Winter’s favorite ornaments.”

The Edges of Mercy

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We often define mercy as giving someone better than they deserve. Dr. Barry H. Corey of Biola University wrote in his book Loving Kindness about having a “firm core with soft edges”. Edges that are givable, shapeable if mercy is needed, but that surround a solid, strong core of love and integrity. That is what teaching feels like at times, honestly: needing to have a solid core with soft edges.

When a student makes a poor judgement call, I have a choice about which edge I show that student: a sharp one or a soft one. At my core, I’m going to do what is best for my student, but how will I get them there? I can lambaste them for their poor decision and cut them to the quick with that sharp edge, filling the cut with shame. Or I can address their choice more softly, laying out the facts before them and the reality of their poor choice in a way that makes sense. I can let them see it how I and others see it, what it tells us about their core, and can hold them accountable in a way that hopefully helps to solidify and strengthen that core.

This is mercy. The chance to understand, learn, and try again–do better. Yes, mercy can be squandered, the chance refused, or the lesson ignored. But that choice is not my responsibility. My responsibility is to offer the mercy.

Mercy is challenging. Mercy is hard. Particularly, when the other person’s choice or action angers or hurts mercy. Mercy is often so hard because it involves us thinking about what will benefit the core of the other person, what will help them be better while still holding them accountable. That can be a difficult line to walk.

However, we are called by God to do justice and love mercy. Having a solid core with soft edges is where our merciful strength comes into play. I am hoping and praying that, as I continue into this year, I continue to solidify my core and soften my edges. The world we live in makes it so easy for edges to harden and sharpen, just to be able to survive in an environment that has become very harsh. As Vonnegut admonished: “Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard.” Let’s love mercy and hold our firm core with soft edges so that we may welcome others in gently and help them strengthen their cores, too.

What is Right and Good

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Yesterday, I reposted an old Twitter post by Stephen Bryce that starts out “I am utterly convinced that God will have all kinds of grace if we got the theology wrong…” It continues on to say that we might be more upsetting to Him is if we got the part about loving people, seeking justice, and being merciful wrong, a statement mined from my favorite verse of Scripture, Micah 6:8. My heart leapt the first time I read this. Yes!

I fully believe that God will have compassion on us if we got our theology and eschatology wrong, if we got our Scriptural interpretation a bit off. But if we have chosen to love others with kindness, seek justice for those who need it, show mercy to those to whom life has been harsh, and live our faith humbly and gently in the way He commanded, I fully believe that God will smile upon us at the end. “Welcome home, Dear One.”

Is it possible that I am wrong? Of course it is! I am only human; I am no theologian; I am not gifted with deep discernment in Biblical matters. But, to be honest, I would much rather err on the side of love, justice, and humility while I live this life. Jesus was not dogmatic; He always put others first. Before Himself, before the Temple and priests, before the Sabbath. He reached for people, not pedagogy or precept.

It feels a little like how I teach. I would rather reach for improving my students’ hearts and empathy for others rather than skyrocketing their test scores. I’d rather teach them to take risks in the course of doing good than clinging to the rules as their validation. Perfection does not equate to a well-lived life.

“But I did everything right!”

“But, dear one, did you do anything good?”

Routine: the Road to Comfort

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I have a Friday night routine. Of all my nights, Friday nights are the most sacred. They are my Sabbath. After I leave work on a Friday evening, nothing work-related happens—no emails, no grading, no lesson-planning, nothing. I need one entire night that is dedicated to not working. However, I still have a routine but it is a routine that leads me to rest.

When I get home on a Friday, there are chores to be done, such as washing the dishes, cleaning the catboxes, and making sure there is something for dinner. These are more than just chores; they are steps that help me transfer from being at work to being in my home and to have a home that I am content in. Not everything needs to be spic-and-span, necessarily, but enough has been done to ensure that major chores are dealt with. Dishes, litter-boxes, trash, recycling, etc. Sure, I have a partner who can and does help but I also find a bit of calm and reassurance in doing these chores myself. Then, once they are done, I can eat contentedly and then head up to my shower to scald and scour off the week.

Not until all of this is done can I truly feel safe(?) enough to relax. I have been productive both at work and at home and now…now I can sit. My family is cared for, the important spaces of our home are clean and tidy…now I am free. I can feel the release as I settle on the couch and Husband asks if he can get me anything. Sometimes the answer is yes, sometimes the answer is no, but regardless I am now in my calm space. My routine done, the night is now mine to do with as I need and choose. Reading, writing, catching up on movies or TV shows, or just sitting in silence for a long while…whatever the night holds is utterly my choice. And that is a beautiful, necessary thing.

Starting Back at the Beginning

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In fewer than 48 hours, I return to the classroom after our two-week winter break, and whew! That letdown is hitting hard this year. I have done myself a great service in that I gave myself several days of absolute planless laziness. Hours to just read, nap, watch movies, etc. I needed that, desperately. Usually, I would be kicking and cursing myself right now for such stupidity because I would be neck-deep in grading for report cards that are due next week. However, this year, by some miracle, 95% of the grading is done already, so I thankfully do not have that particular stress currently on my soul.

That doesn’t stop me from being an anxious, sad puddle of a person right now, though. Last night, as I desperately tried to sleep after a very mentally-taxing evening, all my brain could do was think about my classroom and my first lesson next Tuesday. Then I had a random thought (yes, even more random than normal):

“Do I even remember these kids’ names?”

Vacation-related memory atrophy is absolutely a thing. At the end of the school year, my brain shuffles out most of the 150+ names that I had to memorize because it knows that in just a few short weeks, I will be shoving a whole new set of faces and accompanying names into its databanks. However, on the heels of this particular random thought came another:

“If I am struggling to remember what name goes with what face…can I really expect these teenagers to launch right back into schoolwork off the bat? Will they even remember how things work in our classroom? Have they even charged their Chromebooks once during break?”

So I am considering migrating my currently planned lesson and replacing it with a refresher course on how to “do school” after two weeks off. Maybe we could all use a day to start back at the beginning.

That can be scary sometimes, can’t it? Starting over? Starting back? Beginning again? And yet…here we are…at the beginning of another year. We are literally starting back at the beginning. So, with that in mind, why are we not willing to give ourselves the grace that comes with starting over, with being new at something?

We have never seen 2024 before; it is brand new to all of us. These days are still shrink-wrapped and shiny, and we are still wobbly on our new-year legs. It hurts my heart that we expect ourselves to barrel into this year as if we are old hat at it. We aren’t. It’s new; it’s different. Maybe we can allow ourselves to approach it the way we approach a new experience or new skill: one step at a time, with the willingness to take it slowly and learn what’s needed, and giving ourselves and others the grace to say, “It’s okay; that didn’t work so let’s go back, figure out why, and try something else.”

So maybe my coming Tuesday will be about taking it slow and re-learning how to exist in our classroom and in our school instead of throwing myself and my student heroes feet-first into the deep end of Quarter 3 (incidentally, it’s also the longest quarter of the school year). Maybe if I make the time to re-teach them what is needed, then we will be able to move more smoothly along with what is expected as the quarter proceeds. Better to set the bone correctly than to have it heal wrongly and have to re-break it and start over, if you’ll forgive the analogy.

So, as you find yourself at the beginning of this year, please do give yourself the grace of a beginning. It does not need to be perfect; it does not need to be rushed. Review and reinforce what is important for you, whether that is consistency, routine, rest, process steps, etc. Whatever you need as you begin, please give that to yourself now. Rest and re-learning go hand-in-hand. Sometimes we need to start back at the beginning in order to move forward.

Drawn to the Small Light (Advent 2023)

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Several years ago, I began doing weekly writings specifically for Advent, and I really enjoyed what came to feel like a holy practice in the process of it. However, I have not felt led in that direction this year. Instead, I find that I have a deep calling and draw towards candles in this darkening fall and oncoming winter.

I have artificial candles on my porch, on my staircase, on the mantle in the living room, all timed to turn on as the sun goes down. I light real, scented candles as I sit in the living room, filling the downstairs of my house with the aroma of cranberries, apples, and spices and my soul with the peace that accompanies such scents and their attached memories. Even as I grade assessment and essays, I can be wrapped in this sensory comfort of light and scent.

I long for candles’ flicker, giving softening, golden light to a world that is often so very harsh. I want their gentleness, their ability to move with changes in the air. The flames waver and move with the current changes but do not go out unless the air is overly-harsh or forceful. I love a candle’s warmth, its taking-in of oxygen and giving-back of heat.

I love writing with firelight splashing over the pages of my notebook or journal. It feels as though the warmth of the flame is transferred to my pen, making my writing softer, kinder, perhaps more empathetic.

As I move through this Advent and Christmas season, I think I want to be more like a candle flame: giving light, warmth, and comfort where I can. I do not have to blaze and be so big as to be seen by and serve everyone. I can be small and still do good, for myself and others.

I may not reach all of my students, but I may be of comfort and support to one.

I may not get Christmas cards to everyone but I might just send one to someone who deeply needs the reminder that they are cared for.

I may not be able to find the “right” gift, but I may be able to gift my time and attention to a dear one at the right time.

I can be small and still be good. And so can you, Dear Reader. I love seeing your beautiful candle light.

In Those Dark and Messy Places

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My favorite children’s book about God is It Will Be Okay by Lysa TerKeurst. I have lost track of how many times I have read (and cried over) this book to my beloved child (and to myself) or how many times I have used its words to reassure them, “It will be okay, Little Seed.”

In the story, a little seed and a little fox become friends, living simple, happy lives in the farmer’s dusty shed and spending every day together. One day, the farmer comes along and takes Little Seed away for planting. He reassures the seed, as he presses it into the dirt, that he has a plan for it. Little Fox goes looking for Little Seed, remaining by their friend’s side in that dark and messy place, reminding them that they had not been abandoned. “It will be okay, Little Seed.” The Farmer had a plan.

When things get hard in life now, I often find myself repeating those lovely reassurances:

“It will be okay, Little Seed.”

“The Farmer is good and the Farmer is kind and He is always watching over us, even when we don’t know it.”

When my dear little Hero is frustrated with friend-drama at school: “It will be okay, Little Seed.”

When I am exhausted from life, I gently remind myself that “the Father is good and the Father is kind”.

It will be okay.

It may not be okay right now. This moment may be painful or heavy. But it will be okay. You have not been abandoned, and “Ugh” is still a prayer (Coffee with Jesus).

Luke 6:21b says, “Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.”

Matthew 5:4 likewise assures us, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

In His goodness and kindness, God has placed people in your life who will be that help, that comfort, that watching over. People who will also hear your “Ugh!” prayer and surround you with their love and support in those dark and messy moments. They are there, I promise.

You are not alone.

You have not been abandoned.

It will be okay.

Yellow: The Golden Hue of my Soul

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I love yellow! It is honestly one of my favorite colors, as a concept as well as to wear. I once dressed in only yellow for an entire week at work just to see if I could do it and because my spirits needed that tangible, sunshiny lift. I feel like honey or sunshine, warm like sunflower.

The other day, I donned a pretty yellow-gingham dress for a graduation party. As I popped into a store on the way, a woman’s voice called out from a passing car (it took me a minute to realize that she was talking to me) and declared, “You are KILLING IT in that dress! You look so pretty!” I gave her a smile and a thank-you-so-much before continuing into the store. Later that same day, as I left the grad party, one of the senior’s family members asked if I was one of the graduates, and I chuckled.

“I’m one of the former teachers.”

And she proceeded to exclaim her shock and assumption that I was one of the seniors. That was a nice yellow feeling: being mistaken for someone 22 years my junior.

Yellow makes me feel bright and lovely. It makes me feel as though I am walking sunshine and a living encouragement. Yellow makes my skin look golden honey or buttered. As summer gets underway, I want to be that golden yellow of basking in the good. I want to be that glow that welcomes others to rest and peace comfort. I want to be that warm place where others feel safe, that soft light that soothes the spirit.

Dear God,

Please let me be that golden warmth that is suffused with and reflect your heart and love for others. May this be a summer of love indeed. May I raise the spirits of others and make them feel loved and welcomed.

Planning the Next Step

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“I have a plan.”

It may not seem like much but being able to say those words when things get rough is a help to me. When things are scary or money is tight, being able to look at what is going on and what I have to work with and say “I’ve got a plan” actually makes it easier for me to say what is wrong. I am not a person who likes to admit when things are hard or difficult. To me, admitting that means I screwed up somewhere along the way. My planning wasn’t perfect; I did not account for every contingency like I “should have”. “Should” is my four-letter word. I curse myself with “should” and “should have”.

I should have thought of that.

I should have planned better.

I should have seen that coming.

I should have said/done this instead.

I should have known better.

This is my constant battle, even now at forty. I have let go of some “shoulds” but others, particularly those shoulds that come with what I have deemed my responsibilities, those are much harder to vanquish. But this…this is one weapon that I do have in my arsenal.

“I have a plan.”

Yes, things are tight right now but I have a plan to help make our meal and oil stretch.

No, we did not expect this, but I have plan for us to get through it.

Yes, this will set my original plan back a bit but it can work; it just needs patience and consistency.

I am so thankful that God has given me this rope to hold on to. All my life, I have been a planner, a 100-steps-aheader, a see-the-end-of-the-road-before-I-starter. Sometimes it leads me to trip into overthinking and spiraling, but, in times such as these…I can more readily see why it was built into me from my mother’s foundation and nurtured by natural inclination.

It’s God’s hand on my shoulder reminding me, “I have a plan, sweetheart. Here’s what you can do with what you have in the meantime.”

Is it easy? No. Is it fun? Absolutely not. But it can be done. It takes grit, creativity, and a teeth-clenched determination to say “not right now” to all I want in the world sometimes…but it can be done.

I have a plan.

So when you are in those hard places, those scary places where you just don’t know how you will get through…maybe this might work for you, too, Dear Reader. Maybe it might be just 10% of a plan but nonetheless that is a start! It can be the lamplight thrown on the very next step.

Don’t be afraid to have a cry if you need, to then take in that deep breath, and ask God to show you what the plan is. It may not be perfect, it may not be easy, but you can do it, even if you need to pause every now and again to cry and breathe. I believe you can. I have faith in you.