I think I must get the books in my life under control. Early in the summer, I was happily re-reading this favorite. A light read? Maybe. Except when Mr. Colt drifts into discussing his disjointed family, his parents' unhappy marriage, his grandmother's insanity, and the sense of loss, failure and regret he feels at losing a home that has defined and sheltered them in a multitude of ways, for 100 years. Light reading indeed.
from Sandra: Living Beautifully Together. It's a favorite of hers, a regular read, a help in life. I won the give-away, and it arrived in the mail. I started it, and ruminated on only its first few pages. Stoddard tells me that I need to find time alone for myself, to center myself, find inner balance and peace, before I can minister to others. Meanwhile, Mr. Colt's book continued to growl at me from my bedside table.
Debbie says she's done this too, and she's read Gift from the Sea nine times! I am already half-way through it.
Lindbergh is an elegant writer, much moreso than Stoddard, and more mature than Voskamp. With a little shock I realized this morning (while soaking in the bath and trying to have calm time alone) that I am exactly the age that Lindbergh was when she published this book. I don't know how old Stoddard was when she wrote hers, but I think she also was in her late 40s.
And where am I? I'm at the sea, which I love. I have one sweet child still at home. I have loads -- absolutely loads -- of time on my hands. Little house work to do, little cooking. All this reading, all this thinking. Writing I should be doing, but somehow it's not time yet. All these voices -- Colt, Stoddard, Voskamp, Lindbergh -- in my head also, whispering their versions of what is best, what is wrong and what will fix it.
Each morning, I read a bit of this too, along with the Best Book.