Moving On (Miller's Valley by Anne Quindlen)

Nothing like walking through reviews of a book and realizing that I am going to be one of the few who rate it with 3 stars. Three stars: I liked it. It was fine. There's the issue, isn't it? We don't like to receive a 'C' grade, an average grade. We don't like to be "fine" or "nice." I can't really label the book as "nice" as once again this summer I've just finished a sad book (with somewhat of a "happy" ending, I guess). I am desperate to move on to something witty and humorous and happy. However, I didn't choose this book (it was a book discussion group choice for the month of July-August), and moving on from sad books is not why I chose the title "Moving On" for this post.

The people of Miller's Valley must move out and move on because their town is going to be covered in water; it will be a "drowned town". This is not a plot spoiler as we learn this immediately in the novel.

Still, I could have chosen a variety of themes to focus on from Quindlen's novel: eminent domain, 1960s and Vietnam (or any war era sending back soldiers into civilian life), family relationships, friendship, pro-life/pro-choice/sex, growing up / growing old, loneliness, identity and home.

All those themes touch my life in one way or the other, but I keep coming back to what it means to "move on." When does moving on help us grow and thrive, and when is moving on equivalent to cutting ourselves off from what matters and/or simply running away? When does someone else's moving on become something we have to deal with, get through, and get over?

If a reader is willing to look into that theme running throughout Miller's Valley and throughout the lives of its characters, then she or he will have lots to think about in this "quiet" book (a number of reviewers who rated this book three stars were wishing they had paid attention to the "quiet" label -- this means the story may move a bit slower than one would like).

The book is an excellent choice for discussion, but I'm not purchasing the book for my own shelves.

💕💕💕💕 One of the most important actions we can take with our children (and with ourselves) is to help them build up friendships that will last a lifetime. Some childhood friendships will fall by the wayside -- oh! what a great analogy I've fallen into! Some friendships will fall on footpaths where the busy birds of this life will eat them up. If the friendships seem like good ones, pick up the seeds and move them to a place where they can be nurtured. Some friendships fall  among the rocks. Make sure that not all of your children's friendships and your own friendships stay in the rock or acquaintance region. Some friendships will fall among the weeds. Those are the tough calls to make when it comes to friendships. To have friendships among the good soil, those are friendships that last a lifetime and in rain and shine, help us to thrive and grow. Too often I've either moved on from friendship to friendship or planted friendships everywhere without making sure that I have deep friendships.

--------------Matthew, Mark, Luke, and Acts in the New Testament all write of "shaking the dust off of   [one's] feet." Words for moving on. My comments here address whether we read those stories in light of the reality that God is Love (see my ongoing blog post about this in this link here.  ) or if we read it as if God were made in our own image and if we shake off dust, then we either hate you or can't stand you or feel something other than God love for you. What if we look at "shaking of the dust" as moving on and moving past so that we can thrive and grow, so that we are not continually dragged down into the taking any number of unhelpful actions: being someone's rescuer and getting in the way of the Holy Spirit; becoming morose and stuck in the past; getting angry and becoming depressed about the past, unable to hear the goodness to which God is inviting us...

What if "shaking off the dust", "moving on", means we are invited to move away from bitterness, wrath, malice, evil words -- to put them off, to shake them off -- and to put on, move toward kindness compassion, and forgiveness? It may mean that moving on and away from someone or something is healing for our souls...and may lead to healing for theirs as well.

What if "shaking off the dust" means a moving on which is also helpful to the person or people from whom we are moving on or moving past? If the person can not hear and feel our love, can not hear and feel that the kingdom of God has come near to them, do we trust God in perfect love to send someone else? Just because we need to shake the dust off of our feet does not mean that God has abandoned the people. Truly, if these actions of shaking off the dust in protest as a testimony does not change any minds, if after time and time again, a person chooses to walk away from the freedom offered in Jesus, in God, in Love with a capital 'L', then the person gets to have what he or she wants and that is a life outside of the kingdom of God. That is sad, but the judgment does not come from us. Shaking dust off of our feet does not make us superior. It is merely an action done in love directed by God who is Love because we who are moving on are not the ones to carry the message of love there. We need to discontinue reading the words of Jesus as though he is saying them with hate and instead read them as a parent who deeply loves his children. "And you, Capernum, [think, dear children, about this] will this get you to heaven? No, you will go down to Hades [Sheol, a place of darkness, a place of death, a place where nothing grows or thrives; this is not what I want for you; change your mind, dear children, for I love you with an unfailing love].

**********I continue to think on this topic of moving on, shaking the dust off my feet. This question comes to mind. When do I move on and when do I stay put? It might have to do with what leads me toward  God and which leads me away from God. It probably has a lot to do with what is most helpful for both the one who is not listening and to me as well. Which "moving on" "shaking the dust off" move me toward God and away from anything that puts me in the place only God can hold or takes me away from anything I idolize? Which "moving on" or "shaking the dust off" takes me farther away from God's invitation to me (think of Jonah and Ninevah)? 

Remembering: (Gypsy Triptych by Schoorl), Godparents, and Who Gets the Dogs

I must explain my rating of the book Gypsy Triptych (before I muse further on godparents and dogs), a book that would make an excellent reading group discussion choice. Jump to paragraph six to find out who I think might enjoy the book.

I don't hate the book; I don't even dislike the book. This issue is giving three, four, or five stars to a book written by a childhood friend, the daughter of my brother's godparents. As with my review of Tender at the Bone which indicated that a reader would either love the book or stop reading depending on whether one wanted recipes in a book, so too with Gypsy Triptych and dreams. This book will either be a reader's dream book or a nightmare.

Gypsy Triptych is a family friend's fictionalized memoir. The author indicates that there is fact amongst the fiction, and one reviewer found it intriguing to guess at which parts were fact and which were fiction. I did as well. I also enjoyed walking through my memories of the location (fact) and memories of Schoorl's family (much of it spot on -- accurate).

Another caveat for friends and family to whom this would matter: Schoorl writes, "I was a firm believer in the power of prayer, magic, dream, science, and reincarnation." Whether this is Schoorl herself, her character, or just a part of the dream it is written in, I do not know. Those who have read my blog before (or know me) know that I do not believe in reincarnation; however, I agree to disagree with authors and keep reading.

One reviewer mentioned some grammatical errors. Thankfully, the errors are not too numerous and there are some beautiful sentences such as "The sea looked so calm, like a prisoner who hides the secret torments of his life" and "He was deep in slumber, looking like he was sleeping off years of woe." One section involving the various homes where Schoorl's character (or Schoorl herself) lived in is a bit confusing. I can imagine the members of my local library book discussion group getting frustrated with keeping track of what is going on. I can understand. As it turns out, I am concurrently reading Henry Miller's Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch, and Miller's memoirs equally jump around in sequencing so Schoorl is in good company with her writing style.

Regarding dreams, Schoorl comments, "I was accustomed to living this way with dream scenes decorating the walls of my mind, shy wallflowers, guests I myself invited." I did find the thought "I had been trying to dream with intention" a new thought that I tried myself later that night.

Who I think might enjoy the book -- those who are tired of reading typical memoirs (often ones I never finish reading -- let's drop names of everyone famous I have ever been in contact with and drone on and on or let me tell you my story which includes so much adventure and illegal activities that the book is more of a peep show than something that resonates with one's life), those who would enjoy dreams in a book, those who live in the San Bernardino County area or are interested in that area, those who have had second chances at love or are interested in second chances, those who are in book discussion groups.

I won't list all of the questions I think would be relevant to a group discussion (too many), but I will move on with something I found intriguing early on (pages 8-9): "Whenever it seemed that I would misremember and relate events from my childhood incorrectly, or that I didn't remember anything the same way my siblings did, I just reminded myself that they weren't gifted with better memories, but that it was rather quite natural for me to remember less since I was the youngest. I wasn't being incorrect intentionally. I focused on things that were important to me, not important to them. I remembered things that were in my line of vision."

In my line of vision as I read this book were Schoorl's descriptions of her parents who were my brother's godparents.

I look at these photos now and think "How young they were!" If something had happened to my parents, my brother (according to godparent tradition) would have gone to live with them. It was fascinating to think how his life would have changed. I think he still would have gone to college just as Schoorl and her sister did. His godparents were intellectuals who strongly believed in education. Would he have met my sister-in-law, a woman he met in high school and has been in love with since that time?

I was fourteen when the picture above of my brother and godparents was taken. Too young to take care of all my siblings, although as I grew older I wanted to do so if anything happened. Plenty happened -- the death of a marriage -- but not the death of my parents. My own godparent had forgotten that she was my godparent when we met up later in life. It wasn't memory loss, but merely the aspects of coming from a large extended family.

My aunt loved to travel and did it often, almost traveling to every part of the world so I know I would have kept something I have now: the love of traveling. I would have had a good life, and by good, I mean a life of loving God and loving others.

And, just to end with a cute dog picture: these are my granddogs although I doubt my daughter would call them that!

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I've started adding these little notes that my older self wished I could have told my younger parent self. My husband and I did not choose godparents for our children. I think I assumed my sisters would step up and take care of them. It is something to think about: choosing godparents and choosing in way that you can picture how your child or children would grow up with those parents.

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I've also started including practices for spiritual formation, for thriving. One thread that keeps running through Schoorl's book is the loneliness she felt growing up, something that surprised me given my family of seven lived down the street from Schoorl...until I recalled that we moved away while my siblings were still in elementary school which meant Schoorl also was still in elementary school. A good practice might be to look at one's community. Do you and I have a number of friends (enough to balance the loss of friends who move away or later in life, move into eternity) that we are willing to keep in contact with (more than Christmas cards)? 

The Opposite of Loneliness

Lately I've been exploring loneliness. Some experiences come unbidden, but this one came by way of a book club...or so I thought as I read the opening pages: loneliness of leadership responsibility, loneliness of superficial relationships, loneliness of depression, loneliness of loss, loneliness without a face. Check and double check. Ready to take a quiz. 

All academic until I rode home after spending four days with my daughter, son-in-law, and grandson who live seven hours away from me. 

What a beautiful picture this is of community, fellowship, friendship IF it goes beyond the picture taking moments, right? Two days after this picture was taken, I had all those traveling hours to realize the loneliness of the loss I was experiencing. To be away from this family meant being with sons and granddaughters; to be with this family meant loss of time with the other family members. 

I've been learning lately how to ask questions of God rather than telling God how to run my world (imagine that!). So, I asked. And, I received: Be grateful. Yes, gratefulness did lighten my heart. Yet, what about the loss that can not be lightened by a visit: death of a loved one, death of a situation. So many thoughts came flooding in. And, God said, "Sit with me in it." 

Sit? Do nothing? It's not "doing nothing." To sit with God is to sit in friendship. To sit being heard, being seen, being understood. That, I think is the opposite of Loneliness. Not as an Internet search gave: "popular", "sociable" as the opposite for "lonely" (several sites had no antonyms for "loneliness"). One site "got it": "companionship" is the opposite of loneliness. 

I realize now how my world opened up when I sat with these thoughts. I see the value of the closing words of encouragement from my teacher, Trevor: "Admitting our loneliness, whether it has a face or not, can be liberating, hopeful, and life-giving. That's why I encourage others to face their loneliness and to be honest with themselves. At the beginning of this chapter, we imagined Jesus walking the streets where we live and saying, "Come to me, all you who are lonely, and I will give you friendship" (30-31).