Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

Adventures in Book Clubbing

Every time my grandmother sees me, she asks, with a twinkle in her eye, “How many book clubs are you in now, dear?”

It’s a valid question.

At any given time, I am most likely participating in between three and four book clubs: my virtual book club on this blog, a book club at work, my Sunday evening book club, and the occasional temporary book club with friends.

Now that I spell it all out like that, it does sound like a bit of a problem.

Every year in October, my Sunday evening book club has a tradition of dressing up like a book character, and the rest of us try to guess the book. This year I was feeling uninspired by our selections from the past year, and I was lamenting my lack of ideas to Daniel. That’s wbook-clubhen he came up with this ingenious idea: to dress up as myself.

And that’s what I did. I dressed up as the me on the cover of I Was Blind (Dating), but Now I See. People hardly even recognized me.

Here’s a picture of my wonderful book club friends. (You’ll also notice costumes from The Snow Child, A Man Called Ove, and The Goldfinch, plus my aunt in an apron from some unspecified book).

***Blind Dating

If your book club is interested in reading my book and having me talk to your group, I’d be happy to participate, either in person or via Skype! Just send me a message through this site, and we can talk about details. Happy reading, everyone!

 

Friday Favorites for October

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Happy Friday, everyone! Here are a few of my recent favorite finds, from literary costumes to the most popular book the year you were born to the oldest picture book. Enjoy!

For anyone still looking for a Halloween costume . . .

These literary-themed costumes are adorable (and some aren’t that hard to pull off). Will someone please try the Curious George/Man with the Yellow Hat combination? 19 Book-Inspired Halloween Costumes for Kids and Adults

For anyone who likes to trace trends . . .

This is a fascinating glimpse into what Americans have been reading, year by year, since 1930. (It’s also interesting to note the changing book cover trends.) What Was the Most Popular Book the Year You Were Born?

For anyone who likes old things . . .

The oldest picture book for children dates back to the 1600s and featured—believe it or not—animal sounds! I guess some things don’t change. (Although apparently animal noises do: 17th-century ducks said kah kah, and chickens said pi pi.) The Very First Picture Book

For anyone who has pinned a pretty verse on Pinterest . . .

This post is simultaneously hilarious and sobering. “Beware the Instagram Bible, my daughters—those filtered frames festooned with feathered verses, adorned in all manner of loops and tails, bedecked with blossoms, saturated with sunsets, culled and curated just for you…” The Instagram Bible

For anyone who has wondered about the mystery of marriage . . .

This post is a poignant and honest glimpse into one couple’s relationship: “Marriage is not one + one = two. It isn’t even one + one = one. Marriage is (one – one) + (one – one) = one.” The Strange Math of Marriage

The Sweetest Things

Is it just me, or does it seem like our world is a bit lacking in the sweetness department right now?

  • My newsfeed is filled with more political travesties than a person can ingest in a single sitting.
  • Swaths of the East Coast are still reeling from the aftermath of the hurricane.
  • At every turn, it seems, there’s a shooting in Chicago or a bombing in Aleppo or another racial injustice or a refugee crisis.

There is bitterness at every turn. Where, oh where, is the sweetness?

***

One of my best literary friends is Anne of Green Gables. She and I met when I was in fourth grade, and the friendship is one I never outgrew. In one of those mysteries unique to book-world, she seemed to grow with me. Each time I reread the series, I’d connect with parts of her and her story that I’d missed before. She hadn’t changed; I had.

One of the things I loved most about those books was the way “Anne with an e” savored the little things. Her story isn’t fueled by drama or intrigue or jaw-dropping plot twists; it’s made up of the little moments that become more beautiful simply by the noticing. Maybe that’s why I love this quote from Anne of Avonlea so much:

“After all,” Anne had said to Marilla once, “I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.”
L. M. Montgomery

Anne has gotten me to thinking that my question—“Where is the sweetness?”—may not be the right one to ask. Maybe the problem isn’t that there isn’t enough sweetness in the world; maybe I’m just not noticing it. And maybe there are some things I can do to make the world a sweeter place.

***

Tomorrow is Sweetest Day. I’m not one for Hallmark holidays, where people either feel guilted into proving their love with their wallets or feel left out because they don’t have a certain someone to celebrate with. But I am a fan of sweet things.

And if there was ever a year we need more sweetness, it must be this one.

When I started digging into the history of this holiday, I was surprised to discover that Sweetest Day wasn’t originally about romance at all.

The first Sweetest Day dates back to 1921, and apparently there was even a committee for the holiday. A dozen candy makers got together and called themselves “the Sweetest Day in the Year Committee.” (I have to believe those were the best board meetings ever.)

On October 10 of that year, they distributed more than 20,000 boxes of candy to people all over Cleveland, Ohio, who were in need of a little sweetness: newsboys, orphans, the elderly, and the underprivileged.

It wasn’t a big thing, perhaps. The distribution of candy surprises didn’t solve poverty or improve social conditions or change the economic infrastructure of the city. But like Anne said, sweetness isn’t always found in sweeping gestures or the grandiose declarations. Sometimes the little things can be the sweetest ones. Like pearls slipping off a string.

How will you make the world a little sweeter today? Maybe you can give someone a genuine compliment or buy a stranger’s coffee or mail a card to somebody who’s lonely. The thing about sweetness is that when you give it to someone else, it leaves a sweet aftertaste in yoflourishur own mouth too.

***

Your turn! Tell me something sweet you did for someone else or something sweet someone did for you, and you’ll be eligible to win a Sweetest Day package from me: Margaret Feinberg’s new book, Flourish, about how to “live loved,” plus a bag of Ghiradelli chocolates.

Happy Sweetest Day!

10 Things I’ve Learned in My 30s

birthday

It’s my 39th birthday this week, which has prompted me to do some reflecting on my thirties. Whenever people in their twenties ask me about turning thirty, I tell them that the thirties are so much better than the twenties, and I mean it. Here are some of the things I’ve learned over the past almost-decade:

1. It’s not up to you to make people like you.

As a recovering people-pleaser, I’ve spent chunks of decades worrying what other people think of me. Not only is this exhausting, it also makes it hard to tell who likes you for who you really are. Here’s my advice to my fellow people pleasers out there: Aim for pleasing God and being authentic to who he made you to be, and let everything else fall as it may.

2. Wear clothes that make you feel good.

How did it take me until I was thirtysomething to realize that I find dress pants soul-sucking? Take it from someone who wishes she’d had a sartorial epiphany sooner: Find your style. Embrace it. Then jettison the clothes you don’t like.

3. Find a groove that works for you.

In your twenties, you can get by on haphazard sleep and a slapdash schedule. But in my thirties, I’ve found that I need to identify the things that recharge me and then make them a priority. For me that includes things like going to bed by ten, taking walks to the library, carving out time to write, and having regular coffee dates with friends; otherwise I get wonky fast. What are the things that recharge you? Set aside time for those things, and don’t apologize for making them sacred.

4. Get out of your rut.

Okay, I realize I just said “find a groove,” but the flip side is that it’s also important to try new things every once in a while. I’m a creature of habit, so this takes intentionality for me, but I’ve come to realize that some of my most meaningful experiences have come from times I did something out of my comfort zone.

5. Be grateful for the present.

For most of my twenties, I found myself always looking ahead to what was next, whether out of worry or anticipation. Almost as soon as one prayer request was answered, I’d be on to the next one. But how much life do we miss out on when we’re constantly fast-forwarding into the next phase? I hope in my thirties I’ve been able to savor more, to be grateful for the right-now.

6. Love is worth the risk.

Love feels scary sometimes, and I’m not going to promise that love will never hurt. As C. S. Lewis says, “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.” But I will vouch for the fact that even though love means opening yourself up to pain, the pain is worth it. And sometimes the pain itself increases your capacity for love.

7. Dream big and fail big.

I’m an INFJ by Meyers-Briggs personality type, meaning I’m not a natural-born risk taker. I’d rather play it safe and think something through from every possible angle to make sure I don’t fail or make a mistake. But here’s the truth: sometimes you just have to jump. You have to go all in, not having all the facts, not knowing how it’s going to end. And sometimes you will fail. But you know what? It’s okay. That’s not the end of the story; it just makes for an interesting side plot.

8. Embrace the little people in your life.

One of the best things about my thirties has been being an aunt to seven amazing nieces and nephews. Kids remind you how to laugh, how to ask big questions, and how to wonder again. Whether or not you have children or small relatives of your own, I highly recommend that you find some little people to invest in. I can’t guarantee if the kids will benefit, but you will definitely be the richer for it.

9. Call your mom.

When we’re young, I think most of us have a certain sense of invincibility—not only about ourselves but about those we love. We have this unchecked idea that our people will always be there for us in the same way they are now. But as I get older, I am becoming more aware of mortality—my own and other people’s. So I want to seize the little moments with the people I love—the ordinary phone calls with my mom, the discussions about life and the news with my dad, the trips to the zoo with my nieces and nephews, the Sunday visits with my grandma, the weekly crossword puzzles with my sister.

10. God is bigger and smarter than I am.

I have come up with plenty of scripts for my life over the years—plans for what I’d do and when I’d do it and how it would all unfold along the way. But it turns out that God has much better ideas than I could come up with—and he knows me better than I know myself. It’s usually not until retrospect that I can trace what he was doing, but I’ve been through enough with him by now to know that he’s doing something good, whether I can see it yet or not.

Bonus: Say yes to ice cream.

I’m already at #10 on my list, but Daniel made me coffee ice cream for my birthday, which reminded me of one more thing I need to add: leave a little room in your life for the sweet things.

***

How about you? What are you learning in this decade of your life?

Are You a Catastrophizer?

messy ballOkay, time for a show of hands. When you start a sentence with “What if . . .” how many of you are picturing something wonderful happening? And how many of you are envisioning the bottom dropping out in a thousand different (but equally catastrophic) ways?

If you are in the first category, you are my hero. And also: we need to be friends. If you are in the second category, you are not alone. Here’s the truth: My “what ifs” are always worst-case scenarios.

What if Daniel isn’t home from his bike ride yet because he was swept up by a funnel cloud and then attacked by a bunch of thugs?

What if the pain in my side is appendicitis or, more likely, some unpronounceable kind of cancer?

What if gluten/GMOs/social-media-induced narcissism/the two-party political system will be the demise of us all?

What if I run out of time or money or energy or friends or grace?

What if I’m missing out on what God is calling me to do?

Yep, my worry gene is on constant overdrive.

But lately I’ve been wondering . . . what if my imaginings were best-case scenarios?

What if, instead of catastrophizing, I serendipitized instead?

What if my “what-ifs” were about all the amazing, incredible, wonderful, serendipitous things that God might just have in store?

I adore this poem by Mary Oliver:

I Worried

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.

I can relate to Oliver’s worries about things like which direction the rivers will flow and if the earth will turn the right way—things we humans have no business controlling, not to mention any power over. And I love her remedy, which at first seems like a bit of a non sequitur: go out into the morning and sing.

***

When I started riding my bike with Daniel, he shared this rule of cycling with me: Don’t look at what you’re trying to avoid; look at where you want to go. This sounded terrifying at first, because it means you have to loosen your perceived control over this thing you want to protect yourself from. But in reality, this letting go is freedom.

When you take your eyes off your object of worry, it loses its power over you. As counterintuitive as it sounds, you’re much more likely to crash into something when your eyes are fixed on it.

So just for today, in the face of worry, I want to sing. Every time a worry comes crashing into my brain and my heart, I want to fight back . . . not with striving or many words, but with a song.

Satisfy us each morning with your unfailing love, so we may sing for joy to the end of our lives.
Psalm 90:14

***

Are you a worrier? What do you tend to catastrophize about? What helps you combat worry?

The Divine Palindrome

I’ve always had a weak spot for palindromes. When I learned the word from Mrs. Strukel in fourth grade, I became a little obsessed. I’d sit at my desk daydreaming up all the palindromes I could think of (mom, dad, race car, taco cat), and I’d secretly get a little giddy whenever the digital clock hit a magical number like 12:21.

My love for these quirky words hasn’t abated much over the years. I was ridiculously excited about my 33rd birthday, because after all, palindromic birthdays come only once each decade. I made it a point to ride in my Civic and a Toyota that day, and although I didn’t add random people named Hannah or Bob to my guest list, I will admit the thought crossed my mind.

It never occurred to me until recently, however, that God was a fan of palindromes. Then I read this quote by Eugene Peterson:

The way we come to God is the same way that God comes to us. God comes to us in Jesus; we come to God in Jesus.
Eugene Peterson, The Jesus Way

Do you see the palindrome there? Us-Jesus-God. God-Jesus-us.

In the Old Testament, people longed to see God face to face. But Scripture was clear: a mortal could not look at a holy God and expect to live (Genesis 32:30). The esteemed prophet Moses saw God’s presence pass by, but even he wasn’t allowed to see God’s face (Exodus 33:20-22).

Yet in his radical grace, God didn’t leave us alone and wishing for connection with him. Instead, he sent us a divine palindrome: Jesus, who mediates between us and the Father. Jesus, who enables us to see the Father’s face and not die. Jesus, who takes on our sin so we can stand in the presence of perfection. Jesus, who intercedes on our behalf before a holy God.

We have access to a gift the ancients longed for but did not see.

I tell you the truth, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see, but they didn’t see it. And they longed to hear what you hear, but they didn’t hear it.
Matthew 13:17

So we dare not miss this rare gift—this divine palindrome that allows us to come into the presence of Love himself.

***

What’s your favorite palindrome? Please share so I can add it to my collection!

How Long Is Five Years?

wedding walkingDaniel,

We have been married five years now, and all week I have been thinking about the strangeness of time. In some ways, it’s hard to believe it’s been five years already. And in other ways, it seems like we’ve been a team much longer.

As I’ve been pondering how long five years is, this is the best I’ve come up with: Five years isn’t very long. And five years is long enough.

Five years isn’t very long.

It’s not long enough to get old together, not long enough to be the adorable gray-haired couple at the restaurant next to us. They haven’t uttered a word to each other since they sat down, but I get the feeling they’ve had more conversation with their eyes than I’ve managed with all my many words in the past hour.

Five years isn’t long enough to have more years behind us than we have ahead of us, Lord willing. It’s not long enough to know what legacy we’ll leave behind. We saw your grandpa last week, surrounded by his thirteen children, many of whom are gray-bearded grandfathers themselves now. “Grandma Sheila would have loved this,” he said, shaking his head in wonder at the hundred-plus progeny surrounding him, all because he married his high school sweetheart seventy years ago.

Five years isn’t very long.

And yet five years is long enough.

It’s long enough for you to load my toothbrush 2,000 times, long enough to put 60,000 miles on our car, long enough to fall asleep partway through 200 Friday-night movies with you. It’s long enough to attend seven weddings and two funerals and a dozen family vacations together.

Five years is long enough to make ice cream together and walk to the library together and ride our bikes together (you at half your normal speed). It’s long enough to laugh until we almost lose bladder control over things that would make no sense to the general population, and long enough to cry a jar full of tears . . . some in spite of each other and some because of each other.

Five years is long enough to navigate who is going to make dinner and pay the bills and empty the dishwasher, even if it’s not the way our parents did it or the way we figured it out so neatly out on our premarital class worksheets. And it’s long enough to renegotiate when things fall apart because one of us is writing a book or adjusting to a new job.

Five years is long enough to say goodbye to the first place we lived together. It’s long enough to buy a house, and long enough to bail water out of the basement of said house while wondering what, exactly, we’d gotten ourselves into. It’s long enough to dig out a tiny garden, and long enough to eat the first tomato we planted with our own hands.

Five years is long enough to win and fail, to hope and despair, to wait and wonder, to break and heal. It’s long enough to sing and forget the words and remember them again.

Five years is long enough to know that although I loved you with my whole heart the day I said “I do,” I somehow love you more now than I did then. Something mysterious has happened along the way: I still love you with my whole heart, but it turns out loving you has broadened the borders of my heart.

Do not hesitate to love and to love deeply. . . . The more you have loved and have allowed yourself to suffer because of your love, the more you will be able to let your heart grow wider and deeper. 
Henri Nouwen

Five years isn’t very long. But it’s long enough to know that five years isn’t long enough.

Happy fifth, my love. Here’s to many more years of the Daniel and Stephanie Team.

A Tale of Two Lipsticks

lipstickI was minding my own business in the cosmetics aisle at Target the other day when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Excuse me, but can you tell me which one of these looks red?”

I turned around to see a woman in her 50s, her face the very definition of angst. She was holding two lipstick tubes directly in front of me.

Now I admit I was feeling pretty confident I could ace this one, having mastered my ROYGBIV a long time ago, but when I looked at the lipstick, I found myself utterly befuddled. PEOPLE, they were almost the identical shade of fire-engine red.

“Um,” I faltered, wondering if this was a trick question. “They’re both lovely.”

The woman’s face instantly fell, and I realized there would be no elegant sidestepping of this question.

“Okay, what are you looking for?” I asked.

“I want it to be RED,” she said. “Not even a little bit orange or pink. RED.”

I looked at the two tubes again, desperately trying to decipher any nuances between the two. And then it hit me: this woman wasn’t looking to me for my color expertise or my fashion savvy. It was well into the afternoon, and any attention I’d paid to my lips before I left for work was long gone by now. I’d eaten something that required much napkin-swabbing for lunch, and I’d made a mad dash through a rainstorm on my way into the store, so I clearly didn’t have the cosmetic qualifications to answer this question.

What this woman needed was someone to feel confident on her behalf when she did not. (Which, come to think of it, was surprising for someone with such a bold shade of lipstick.)

I took a breath and dug in. I looked at the current shade she was wearing, and then I looked at the two tubes again. “This one,” I said with more certitude than I felt. “Definitely this one. It looks like the color you’re wearing now.”

She breathed an audible sigh of relief and headed directly to the check-out. I shook my head as she left, wishing I could be so confident when it came to my own decisions.

The thing is, sometimes we lose perspective when it comes to our own lives. We can’t tell if red is red. We need someone else to speak the truth boldly on our behalf.

Sometimes we shy away when someone asks for our input, not wanting to butt in to someone else’s business. But what if one word from you is exactly what that person needs to be able to move forward, to do the big thing they need to do? What if one word from you could inject in them the extra inch of courage they need?

Maybe they need to hear words like this from you:

Yes, try for the new job.
Yes, write the book.
Yes, go on the trip.
Yes, ask her out.
Yes, go back to school.
Yes, turn in your adoption application.
Yes, follow your dream.
And yes, get the red lipstick.

As I drove home, I wondered about the woman’s story. What had she needed RED lipstick for? Was she feeling any braver? Was she applying it in her rearview mirror this very moment?

I’m reminded of the words of that wise philosopher Christopher Robin, spoken to his friend Pooh:

“You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we’re apart . . . I’ll always be with you.”

Isn’t that one of the reasons we’re here? To be bold on behalf of our friends when they are feeling timid. To speak truth to them when they can’t see it. To be there for them when they can’t tell red from red.

Whatever hard decision you’re facing right now, allow me to be your Christopher Robin: You, my friend, are braver than you believe. You’ve got this.

***

Has someone ever spoken bold words to you when you were facing a tough decision? I’d love to hear your story!

Friday Favorites for July

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Happy Friday, everyone! Here are a few of my recent favorites, from boss lady friends to Sharpie art to the power of love. Enjoy!

For anyone aspiring to write a book (even if it’s just in your head) . . .

If you wrote a book about your life, who should record the audio version? Take this quiz to find out. Who Should Voice Your Bio’s Audiobook

For anyone who is facing a big decision . . .

Emily Freeman tells you how to find (and become) a good sounding board: “If you’ve ever felt stuck with a big decision you have to make, it helps to have people in your life to help you process that stuff. You need a boss lady friend.” How to Find a Boss Lady Friend

For anyone who loves to doodle . . .

This video shows you how to make perfect serif fonts with a simple Sharpie. 1 Sharpie, 26 Letters

For anyone who wonders if love can last when things are hard . . .

Alia Joy writes beautifully about the hospitality of love: “We’ve made a life here, and love doesn’t get easier but it gets closer.” Loving Like It’s New

For anyone who wonders where God is in the midst of suffering and waiting . . .

This post by Tessa Afshar is a lovely reflection on the heartache and beauty of waiting: “The suffering of the human soul is grave and brutal enough to break even the hardest stone.” How Words Have the Power to Transform Our Histories

 

God’s Elbow

addie elbow3

When my niece Addie was almost two, my family headed to Washington State to visit my grandparents. The 2,000-mile trip made for a long day . . . even for those of us who weren’t toddlers. By the time we drove to the airport, changed planes, rented a car, and headed over the mountains to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, we’d spent an entire day using transportation of some kind. Add that to the two-hour time difference, and we had a pretty tired two-year-old on our hands.

Gratefully, Addie was a champion traveler and charmed the entire plane. But when we got to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, she toddled over to me, her eyes plaintive. “Eppie ebbow!” she said.

I looked at her, confused. The “Eppie” part was easy—that’s my auntie alias. But “ebbow”? What was she trying to tell me?

“Can you show me?” I asked.

She dutifully pointed to my elbow, but I was still at a loss for what that signified.

Finally I called in my sister, Addie’s mom, for some clues. “What does it mean if Addie is asking for my elbow?”

Meghan laughed. “Oh, she’s asking you to hold her in a rocking position—with her head in your elbow.”

Of course! I was only too happy to oblige.

***

Just a few months later, Addie’s world turned upside down when her parents brought home a baby brother. She had been practicing her big-sister skills with her doll (whom she called “Pink Baby”), but we weren’t sure how she’d adjust to not being the baby of the family anymore.

Most of all, how would she respond when someone else took the prime spot in her mama’s elbow?

When Meghan and Ted returned from the hospital with their precious bundle wrapped in a blue quilt, I held my breath, wondering how the introduction with the newly minted big sister would go. Would she be jealous? Would she feel bumped out of prime elbow territory?

I needn’t have worried. The first thing she said after inspecting little Grant was “Addie ebbow.” Then she sat down on the couch, ready to put her little brother in the crook of her own arm.

Here I was afraid she’d want Mama’s elbow for herself, and she was offering her elbow to her baby brother.

At two years old, Addie was living out this verse in 2 Corinthians:

God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4

God comforts us—he lets us rest in the cook of his arm, if you will. And in turn, he invites us to share that comfort with other hurting people.

When we know there’s no scarcity of love, we don’t have to hoard the comfort we’ve been given; we don’t have to be jealous for it. Instead, we can receive it with gratitude . . . and then extend it to someone else.

Have known the comfort of your Father’s elbow? If so, don’t keep that love to yourself. Find someone else who needs an elbow too, and share his comfort with them. And if you haven’t felt that comfort, know that his arm is ready, waiting just for you.

***

What’s your story? Has someone passed on God’s comfort to you? Or have you passed it on to someone else?