When we left Chicago last week, it was 12 degrees. There’s something about walking outside in the morning and smelling twelve degree air that excites me. I suppose the tingling could be coming from fingers and toes beginning to sting, but there’s something more than that. Twelve degrees for me is nostalgic, for sure, but this sort of bitterness welcomes work, don’t you think? It’s the sort of work that will be hard, grueling perhaps, and I love that. I think we’d do well to believe that hard does not necessarily equal negativity, and I think standing outside in the twelve degree weather and deeply inhaling is a nice metaphor for welcoming the hard stuff.
This is all to say that January is not the time for Jan Karon or Stephenie Meyer. January is time for Frederick Buechner and Katherine Paterson. Like the food you are probably preparing during winter: stews and roasts, potatoes and other root vegetables, January reads should leave you with something that sticks, something that digests slowly.
For You:
Read Wiman’s book for the sentences: “God not above or beyond or immune to human suffering but in the very midst of it, intimately with us in our sorrow, our sense of abandonment, our hellish astonishment at finding ourselves utterly alone, utterly helpless. How to speak of these things? Language, even as it reaches for life beyond this one, must bear the mark of being lost. Not having been lost. Being lost.” Or, “The mistake many young artists make is in thinking they can will such changes, or – much more dangerous – floats close to the fires of circumstance and suffering without being burned.” And my favorite: “There must be a shattering experience.”
I love this book for the confusion I felt about God, and that the more confused (and afraid) I was, the more I wanted to sit with the confusion. I suspect that’s how my faith will continually resolve itself: I don’t necessarily look forward to a shattering experience, but I can’t turn away from it, either.
For the kids:
I think this is my favorite winter book. A father and his daughter go owling one night, and if the story isn’t an example in how to lay down words so the reader can hear, feel, and smell them (the entire story is a poem), then it is a charming story where exuberant children meet the world of quiet, subtlety, and patience.
Happy Reading!
As always with your posts, Callie, I find so much to relate to! The energy of cold mornings! The acceptance of confusion and hard work, even as I resist it… I have never read Christian Wiman, but your quotes here make me add the book to my list. Happy January!
Thank you, Lindsey!
naomi saw this as i read it and was eager to point out her teacher read _owl moon_ at school. not sure i have so we’ll add it to the library list.
It’s just the best. It’ll make you want to take a winter’s hike at night.