Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

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?

Bling Dating

I recently received a message from someone who read my book. They said lots of nice things about it, but the main thing that stuck out to me was the delicious typo:

“I loved your book about bling dating!”

My mind immediately wandered to what “bling dating” would look like. Would you get loud, flashy jewelry from your date each time you went out? Or would it mean you would wear as much bling as possible on your dates?

This was definitely not my story, as I’m pretty sure the only accessory I was wearing when I met Daniel was a bicycle helmet. But I do love a good malapropism.

These thoughts about bling and jewelry and accessorizing got to me to thinking about the precious women I met in Thailand who make lovely handmade jewelry. Thanks to the grace of God and the help of a nonprofit organization in Bangkok, these women have come out of the sex industry and are learning trades such as jewelry making so they can begin a new life.

My dream for those who read my book is the same dream I have for the women I met in Thailand: that they will know they are loved and of infinite worth and value in their Father’s eyes.

Is there someone in your life who just might need to hear the message of this book—someone who is waiting for something, someone who is in need of hope, someone who needs to know that they are loved and enough just as they are?

I’d love to send three people jewelry handmade by women in Thailand. Let me know in the comments or through a private message that you bought my book for someone, and you’ll be eligible to win one of these beautiful pieces of bling!

well 3

Well 1well 2

 

Newsflash from my publisher: My memoir is currently on sale at Tyndale’s website for 30 percent off! Order before Sunday to get the discount!

When the Judge Is Your Dad

dad and meFor some people, Father’s Day means cookouts and ties and cards with cheesy dad jokes. But for other people, Father’s Day is a paper cut to the heart . . . a reminder of someone who was absent or distant or harsh or unavailable.

In Scripture, one of the most prominent metaphors for God is as a Father. But if your father wasn’t someone who loved you and delighted in you and cherished you and sacrificed for you, how can you believe in a heavenly Father who shows that kind of love to his children?

I’m grateful for a dad and a mom who have faithfully reflected God’s love to me since they laid eyes on my scrunched-up, purplish face in Edward Hospital all those years ago. But recently I experienced a new angle of a father’s love . . . one that I hope will give you a glimpse of the Father-love of God, whether you had a good dad or not.

Judge Dad

My dad became a judge recently, and when the whole family was in town, he took us to the courthouse on a Saturday morning so we could see where he worked. As I sat at the elevated judge’s bench overlooking the witness stand and jury box, I felt the weight of this position—the honor of it, but also the responsibility. In this role, Dad carries the task of faithfully upholding the law, of determining the fates and futures of those who walk through the doors. The judge’s robe, it turns out, is a heavy one.

Once we’d visited the courthouse, Dad invited us to see his chambers. After going through various layers of airport-level security, we headed to the bowels of the courthouse, into his judge’s chambers. As I entered the room, I was struck by the stately mahogany desk and the shelves lined with regal-looking law books. My mind scrambled to reconcile the dad who plays backyard basketball and tells fourth-grade-boy jokes with the dad who is now referred to as “Your Honor.”

As we were about to leave his chambers to head home, a familiar combination of white and pink on Dad’s credenza caught my eye. It looks like . . . no, it can’t be. But sure enough, it was the familiar cover of my memoir. Amid all the leather-bound legal books and important case files was a copy of his daughter’s book—about blind dating, of all things. It was there on the edge of his table along with printouts of a few of my blog posts, available for perusal by anyone who entered his chambers.

As the rest of my family filed out, I stood with my feet nailed to the ground, gripped by the love of a judge with the heart of a dad.

And in that moment, awash with my father’s love, I had a vision of another Judge, another Dad.

Behind the Curtain

In the Old Testament, the Holy of Holies was the sacred place in the Temple where God dwelled. It was a place so holy that only the high priest was allowed to enter—and if he entered at the wrong time or in the wrong way, he would be struck dead.

Most of us can grasp the idea of a holy God—a powerful judge who inspires awe. And he is certainly that. But that moment in my dad’s chambers, I got a glimpse of a God who not only is holy and powerful but also has photos of his children plastered all over the walls.

Go ahead—peek behind the curtain of the Holy of Holies and look around. See on the wall there? It’s a framed picture of you, hanging there for everyone to see. And over on the refrigerator . . . there’s the picture you drew for him—the one you crumbled up and threw away but he salvaged from the trash. And the gift you gave him—the one you thought was so meager and unworthy? It’s sitting prominently on his shelf so whenever his friends come in, he can tell them all about it.

As a beloved child, you have access to the Judge. And this isn’t just a distant, holy God; he’s a Father who loves you and delights in you and is proud of you. He’s a Father who invites you into the sacred space of the Holy of Holies, into his very presence—a place you would never have the right to go without that privileged relationship.

This Father’s Day, regardless of what your earthly father is like, I want you to know that you have a Father who loves you unconditionally, sacrificially, with abandon. Even as you tremble to approach the bench, remember that the judge is also your Father. And that your picture is hanging on his wall.

Announcing the Book Club Selection for August

Circling the Sun

Thanks to everyone who participated in our book discussion about clutter, tidying up, and socks with feelings. Congratulations to Tiffanie, the winner of the free book! (Tiffanie, I’ll send you a private message about getting the book to you.)

And now, announcing the next virtual book club selection: Circling the Sun by Paula McLain! Here’s the publisher’s description of the book:

Brought to Kenya from England as a child and then abandoned by her mother, Beryl is raised by both her father and the native Kipsigis tribe who share his estate. Her unconventional upbringing transforms Beryl into a bold young woman with a fierce love of all things wild and an inherent understanding of nature’s delicate balance. But even the wild child must grow up, and when everything Beryl knows and trusts dissolves, she is catapulted into a string of disastrous relationships.

Beryl forges her own path as a horse trainer, and her uncommon style attracts the eye of the Happy Valley set, a decadent, bohemian community of European expats who also live and love by their own set of rules. But it’s the ruggedly charismatic Denys Finch Hatton who ultimately helps Beryl navigate the uncharted territory of her own heart. The intensity of their love reveals Beryl’s truest self and her fate: to fly.

We’ll be discussing Circling the Sun in August.

And remember, I’ll give away a free book to one lucky commenter. Hope you’ll join us!

Book Discussion: The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up

Lifechanging art of tidying upThanks for joining us for the virtual book club! It’s easy to participate. Just read the book, and then at your own convenience, add your thoughts in the comments section. You can respond to any of these discussion questions—or just say what you thought of the book.

And as a bonus, I’ll give away a free book to one lucky commenter!

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I have to say that I was a reluctant adopter to read this book. I prefer to read books where the story is the main thing, whether that’s in the form of a novel or a memoir. The problem with self-help books is that they typically require you to do something besides sit in a comfy chair and read. But so many people were talking about this book (many of whom claimed it changed their life, just as the title promises) that I finally caved.

Here’s my take, in a nutshell: The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up didn’t change my life, but it did change my closet.

Discussion #1: What is your tolerance for clutter?

The author claims that “tidying up” isn’t just about having fewer belongings or about being organized; it’s about freeing yourself up to become the person you were meant to be.

Keep only those things that speak to your heart. Then take the plunge and discard all the rest. By doing this, you can reset your life and embark on a new lifestyle.

She has a point here—when we have too much stuff, it can certainly bog us down. But I think everyone has a different level of comfort with clutter. Some people enjoy space for a little creative messiness; other people feel peace when their counters are clean and their closets are organized.

Where do you fall on the spectrum? How much clutter is too much for you?

Discussion #2: What tips resonated with you?

I appreciated that this book encouraged some self-reflection not just about what we keep but about why we keep it. As I went through my clothes, I realized my default question is typically “Do I wear this?” not “Does this spark joy?”

When we really delve into the reasons for why we can’t let something go, there are only two: an attachment to the past or a fear for the future.

Serendipitously, I read this book the week after my company changed their dress code to allow jeans. I don’t think I had realized up to this point that dress pants spark zero joy in my life. As I write this, I am happily wearing jeans, and my dress pants are on a rack at Goodwill, hoping to spark joy in a new owner.

Was there something you got rid of after reading this book? How did you feel after you got rid of it? Do you tend to hold on to things because of sentimentality or a desire to prepared?

Discussion #3: What parts of the book didn’t click for you?

While I felt like I could glean insight form the author’s overall principles, some of her specifics were a little on the wonky side for me. She sounds very earnest in her claim that “folding is really a form of dialogue with your wardrobe.” Now I may have conversations with my laundry, but usually it’s a one-sided ordeal with exclamations like “Oh dear, I left you in the washer overnight.”

The part where my blood pressure started rising, however, was the section on books. For all that the author claims that objects have feelings, there is a surprising lack of sensitivity toward my beloved book-friends.

The true purpose [of books] is to be read, to convey the information to their readers.

There is no meaning in their just being on your shelves.

What?! Books aren’t just vehicles of information; they are companions for life! I confess to being rather horrified about her former habit of slicing pages out of books to keep the pages that sparked joy and discard the rest. I did get rid of a few titles that fall into the category of “books I feel like I should read but probably never will,” but that did little to pare down my three stuffed bookshelves.

So what are you sentimental about? For me it’s books, but for you maybe it’s photos, knickknacks, or gifts. What didn’t work for you in the KonMari method?

Rating

I would give this book three stars (out of five).

I’d say it’s worth reading as long as you go into it with the idea that you can personalize these concepts so they make sense for you—for your personality and your home and your unique situation. Weed out the wonky parts (like taping shut the eyes of your stuffed animals before giving them away), and just use what works for you. But if you’re in need of inspiration to declutter, this will give you the spark you need.

How would you rate this book?

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Remember: I’m giving away a FREE BOOK to one lucky commenter! Just write a comment about the book below to be eligible.

When Love Is Pronounced “Donut”

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Did you know that sometimes people are actually saying “I love you,” even when like the words coming out of their mouths sound altogether different? It’s true. Case in point: Sometimes people try to form the word “love” and it comes out sounding like “donut.”

When I was a kid, we’d go to Washington State every summer to visit my grandparents. There were so many fun memories from those July days: picking raspberries in Grandpa’s garden, going waterskiing on the Columbia River, and playing endless games of shuffleboard in Grandma and Grandpa’s backyard.

But one of my favorite memories from those trips was waking up early to the heavenly smell of homemade donuts. Without fail, Grandma would get up before the crack of dawn so she could whip together the first batch. By the time everyone else woke up, the countertops were lined with doughy goodness: traditional circle donuts, donut holes, and donuts dusted with powdered sugar. By the time I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and ambled to the kitchen in all my pajamaed glory, Grandma had been on her feet for hours.

I’m not sure I could have articulated it then, but now I know that what she was saying with those donuts was “I love you.” If Gary Chapman ever adds a sixth love language to his classic book, I’m lobbying for it to be food. Because food is, without a doubt, the way Grandma communicates love.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to realize that love doesn’t have as narrow of a definition as I used to imagine. Maybe I’d watched one too many romantic comedies or Disney-fied fairy tales, but I used to have the notion that love was primarily a happily-ever-after sort of thing that’s found only on rare occasions. And I had the idea that if you loved someone, you probably had to make an eloquent speech about it.

But now I’m starting to realize that there is so much love all around, if only we can recognize it. And there are a lot of ways to express that love beyond the traditional “I love you.”

When your mom says, “Call me when you get home,” she’s really saying “I love you.”
When your dad says, “I can fix that for you,” he’s really saying “I love you.”
When your friend says, “Let’s get coffee,” she’s really saying “I love you.”
When God paints a sunrise for you just as you’re walking out the door, he’s really saying “I love you.”

And of course, when your grandma makes you donuts, she’s really saying “I love you.”

One of the greatest gifts of writing my memoir was getting to relive a chunk of my life and trace all the love that came in unexpected places. No, it didn’t come in the form of a husband and kids during that season of my life the way I’d planned. But even so, God was pouring out so much love onto me that it seeped out through every crack and crevice.

How often do we miss the love because it doesn’t come in the package we expect?

Today is National Donut Day, but I’d like to hereby proclaim it National Look-for-the-Love Day. So whatever form loves comes to you in today, whether via donuts or otherwise, I urge you to recognize it for what it is. Embrace the love, even when it comes in an unlikely package.

***

So what’s your story? When has love come to you in an unexpected way or from an unexpected source?

Share the love . . .

If you share this post, you will be eligible to win TWO Dunkin’ Donuts gift cards—one for you and one to share with someone you love.

Friday Favorites for May

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Happy Friday, everyone! Here are a few of my recent favorites for this month.

For anyone who is looking for a literary vacation this summer . . .

Here is a fun quiz about the number of literary landmarks you’ve visited. Or you can use it to make it your vacation wish list: How Many of These Literary Landmarks Have You Been To?

For anyone itching to move . . .

Did you know that a third of all Americans would move to another state if they could? This fascinating map shows where people are most content (and discontent) with where they live. No shocker here, but apparently people in Hawaii are pretty happy to stay where they are. See where your state ranks: Map of States Where People Want to Move Away

For anyone in their 30s or 40s . . .

Beth Moore offers these words of encouragement to those who have come of age spiritually: “You didn’t know it was going to be like this. You had no idea what you’d stepped into. You think you must have done something wrong to make it this hard.” To Servants of Jesus in Your 30s and 40s

For anyone who has had a long year . . .

Kara Tippetts started a mommy blog called Mundane Faithfulness several years ago. She had no way of knowing at the time that she would later be diagnosed with breast cancer, and this would become a spot for her to share God’s faithfulness in the midst of her pain. This post was written by her husband, a year after her death. It’s a beautiful picture of how God’s grace shows up even in the hardest of years. A Long Year

For anyone who knows the dread of getting the c-word diagnosis . . .

If anyone you love has been affected by cancer, you will be touched by this true story by a mom whose son Chase was diagnosed with a brain tumor before his third birthday. You will be inspired by this little boy who is full of life and courage and laughter in the midst of a diagnosis his parents never would have chosen. To find helpful tips on what to say to someone who has recently been diagnosed with cancer, visit the Chase Away Cancer site. To read the whole inspiring story, you can order the book, Chase Away Cancer.

 

My Adoption Story (and Baby N’s Too)

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{Photo from lifeversedesign.com}

I’ve always been a little in awe (and maybe a teensy jealous) of people who have epic conversion stories. My story about coming to faith has always felt a little, well, boring. But something happened recently that completely changed my perspective.

Maybe I don’t have a quit-drugs-and-become-a-missionary-in-Africa story, but my story is no less epic. My story, in a nutshell, is this: God adopted me.

You are wanted.

Last year, two people I love dearly felt an undeniable tug on their hearts to adopt a baby. They already had two stellar kids, but they couldn’t shake the notion that their family wasn’t quite complete. That maybe God wanted to grow their family . . . and stitch it together with some different threads this time.

It would have been a lot easier to brush off the idea and stuff into the back of a closet along with the boxes of clothes their kids had outgrown.

It wasn’t practical. After all, there was a lot of paperwork involved. Home studies, red tape, profiles, interviews, bureaucracy, and more paperwork.

It was expensive. The fees were staggering—and that was to say nothing of the emotional toll.

It was an emotional roller coaster. Deciding to adopt means putting your heart on the line, setting yourself up for rejection, wondering if things will fall apart right up to the last minute. And waiting. At every stage, more waiting.

In short, adoption means opening your heart to get broken time and time again.

You are chosen.

After months of waiting, this mom and dad got the word: a birth mother had selected them! But this was only the beginning. They would have to leave their two other kids at home for a couple of weeks and then fly 2,000 miles away to finalize everything.

And even then, there was no way to be sure everything would go through. There was no guarantee that their hearts wouldn’t be broken.

But they wanted this baby. They had chosen this baby. And they were ready to fly to the ends of the earth, or least to the edge of the Rockies, to bring him home.

You are loved.

This little boy hadn’t even been born yet, and already he was loved beyond measure. His parents loved him. His big brother and sister loved him. His grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and church already loved him. The prayers for him crisscrossed the nation, and he hadn’t even taken his first breath.

Finally the day came . . . the day that was the culmination of so much waiting, so many hopes, so many prayers. The papers were signed. The name was inked on the birth certificate. Everything was declared official in court.

They went home to start this new chapter, this new life, this new family of five together.

***

And that is almost precisely my story. I didn’t do anything to make my heavenly Father want me or choose me or love me. God went to great lengths and much heartache to pursue me and chase me down and bring me home, all while I was ignorant of his parental wooing.

I don’t know where you find yourself today, but this can be your story too. You may think you’re too far gone for God to take you or that you aren’t good enough or lovable enough. But he wants you. He chooses you. He loves you.

He went to extravagant lengths to get you.
He paid a scandalous price for you.
He gave you his name.
And he will bring you home.

As of now, Baby N can only coo and sleep and eat—he’s not big enough to grasp the epic drama he’s starring in. Yet already his life has given me a glimpse of God’s love—his impractical, lavish, unquantifiable, unstoppable love. The kind of love that traverses multiple time zones and reams of paperwork to make us his very own daughters and sons.

***

God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.
—Ephesians 1:5

 

This Is How You Write

writingThis week I’m speaking at a writers’ conference in Seattle. I’m excited to meet the writers and hear their stories, because writers are made from special cloth.

Whether you write in the privacy of your own journal or on a blog or in the form of notes to your kids, there’s something brave about putting words onto paper.

I wrote this manifesto to share with the writers I meet this week—and with you, too. In case I don’t get to sit down with you in a one-on-one session, happy writing!

***

This Is How You Write

Write it down. Scratch it out. Start over again.

This is how you write.

Write. Edit. Delete. Cry.

Breathe.

Rethink. Rewrite. Reorganize. Revise.

Repeat.

This is how you write.

Put on your sweatpants. Get a cup of tea. Plant yourself in the chair and tell your fingers to type.

This is how you write.

Spend time with imaginary people. Fall into a rabbit hole of research. Believe that productivity isn’t always measured by word count.

This is how you write.

Chain-read books. Soak up the different voices. Then find your own.

This is how you write.

Ignore the laundry, the dishes, the clock ticking inevitably toward dinner.

This is how you write.

Eavesdrop at the car wash, the grocery store, the DMV. Store up nuggets of dialogue.

This is how you write.

Get a snack. Check Facebook-Instagram-Twitter-YouTube. Stare out the window. Get another snack.

This is how you write.

Create, like your Father before you. Mark this space as sacred.

This is how you write.

Also: ignore the people who say “This is how you write.”

Do it your own way.

***

What else would you add to the list about how to write?