Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

What’s Your Story?

booksI have a secret to tell you about stories. Please don’t tell my publisher, though, because this could really wreak havoc on the publishing world. Here it is: We all have the same story.

Yes, the details are different in every person’s story. And we all have our own setting and characters and timeline. But the truth is, our basic plot is the same: We all flub up this thing we call life. And we all find ourselves in desperate need of God’s grace.

The backdrop of my book is that treacherous pastime we call dating. For me, the thing that broke me and brought me flat on my face was a season of singleness that stretched on much longer than I anticipated. That’s where God showed up and revealed his grace and love to me in ways beyond my wildest imaginings.

But as I’ve listened to your stories, I’ve noticed something. Although the specifics of your story may be different from mine, our gracious God is still the same. And he tends to reveal himself in similar ways, even if the details are different.

  • Maybe you’re not waiting for a husband, but you’re waiting for something else that is breaking your heart. Maybe you’re waiting for a job or a baby or a prodigal or healing. And God seems silent.
  • Maybe you, too, have one prayer that keeps tripping you up.
  • Maybe you, too, have had moments when it feels too dangerous to keep hoping.
  • Maybe you, too, have a desire for something that doesn’t seem any closer to happening than it was a year ago.
  • Maybe you, too, feel stuck when everyone around you seems to be moving on with their life.
  • Maybe you, too, know what it’s like to be lonely, afraid, or invisible.
  • Maybe you, too, have wondered where God is in the midst of your pain.

My book isn’t just about blind dates or being single; it’s about being knocked over by the love and grace of God. And that love and grace are available no matter what circumstance you’re facing.

So I’d like to hear from you. When has God shown up in an unexpected way for you? When have you been amazed by his grace, hemmed in by his love? I would be honored to hear your story.

Write your comment below, and I will give away a free book to one commenter!

How a Book Cover Is Born

Blind Dating

I’ve heard that it takes a village to raise a child. I don’t know about that, but in the past year I have learned this: it certainly takes a village to make a book.

I’m thrilled to be sharing something exciting with you today: the cover for my memoir, I Was Blind (Dating), but Now I See!

Since I work in book publishing, I have an inside peek into some of things that happen to turn a bunch of typed-up words into something you can hold in your hands. But until it was my own book, I don’t think I had a true appreciation for the creativity, teamwork, and sheer hard work that go into making that a reality.

I have been amazed and grateful for all the good people at Tyndale who have taken the humble Word document I gave them and metamorphosed it into something lovely—with a charming illustration on the front, pretty fonts, little spots of shiny foil, a texture-y cover, and nice paper.

There are so many people to thank for their role in the whole process (please check out the acknowledgments at the back of the book!), but today I want to give you a sneak peek into how my amazing designer, Jackie, created the cover for the book.

First, my book team sent me a survey about my vision for the cover. Alas, I have practically zero skills when it comes to all things design-related, so I threw around a lot of words to describe what I wanted it to feel like. Fortunately Jackie was able to translate my thousand words into a single picture, and she captured the exact tone I was looking for. The truth is, I didn’t know what I was hoping the cover would look like until I saw it.

Here’s how Jackie came up with the design. First, she read the manuscript. Then she and a handful of other designers brainstormed cover possibilities and sketched them out. After all the designers gave feedback, they narrowed it down to their top three and presented them to the book team. Then the book team chose their favorite (which just so happens to be my favorite too).

Once the cover direction was chosen, Jackie found an illustrator to do the sketch. This will give you an idea of how much attention she pays to detail: she actually sent the illustrator a photo of me so the sketch would be as accurate as possible. (I should note it’s not entirely accurate, however, because I could only dream that my hair would look so good in real life.) She even gave the illustrator suggestions about what the guys might look like based on the descriptions in the book. (For all your former blind dates out there, please note that the silhouette format will protect your identity, so there’s no need to contact your lawyer.)

Credit also goes the talented Sarah Parisi, who created StephanieRische.com and my logo, which serves as the byline on the cover. She’s also a gifted photographer, and she took the picture of me on the back cover. I’m grateful for her creative eye and expertise that helped launch this adventure in earnest two years ago.

If you would like to see the beautiful cover in person, you can order it online, or you can come to a book signing on Saturday, February 6, at 2:00 at the Barnes and Noble in Geneva Commons. (I will be the one up front wondering how this introvert found herself reading mortifying clips about her dating life aloud in a public place.)

Friday Favorites for January

friday_favorites_header1Happy Friday, everyone! Here are a few of my recent favorite things. Enjoy!

For anyone who reads into their text messages . . .

This is bad news for punctuation. Apparently periods are now considered rude. Study Shows That Ending Your Texts with a Period Is Terrible

For any word lovers out there . . .

Perhaps you’ll be as outraged by this as I am. The Oxford Dictionary’s word of the year is . . . not a word?! Oxford Dictionaries Word of the Year

For anyone who’s nostalgic for the books they loved as a kid . . .

This delightful post includes recipes inspired by your favorite children’s book, from James and the Giant Peach to How to Eat Fried Worms. Kids’ Book Recipes

For anyone who has been at a loss for words with God . . .

This is a beautiful, honest piece by someone who found a way, in the midst of depression and silence, to communicate her pain to God. When Words Fail

For anyone who wants this year to look different from last year . . .

A thoughtful post by a single woman that starts out with this line: “I want to be engaged this year.” I Should Be Engaged

Announcing the Book Club for March

Thanks to everyone who participated in our book discussion about Wearing God!A Man Called Ove

And now, announcing the next selection for our online book club, which we’ll discuss at the beginning of March: A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman.

Here’s the publisher’s description of the book:

In this bestselling and delightfully quirky debut novel from Sweden, a grumpy yet loveable man finds his solitary world turned on its head when a boisterous young family moves in next door. Meet Ove. He’s a curmudgeon, the kind of man who points at people he dislikes as if they were burglars caught outside his bedroom window. He has staunch principles, strict routines, and a short fuse. People call him the bitter neighbor from hell, but must Ove be bitter just because he doesn’t walk around with a smile plastered to his face all the time? Behind the cranky exterior there is a story and a sadness. So when one November morning a chatty young couple with two chatty young daughters move in next door and accidentally flatten Ove’s mailbox, it is the lead-in to a comical and heartwarming tale of unkempt cats, unexpected friendship, and the ancient art of backing up a U-Haul. All of which will change one cranky old man and a local residents’ association to their very foundations. A feel-good story in the spirit of The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry and Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand, Fredrik Backman’s novel about the angry old man next door is a thoughtful and charming exploration of the profound impact one life has on countless others.

We’ll discuss this book at the beginning of March. Remember: there will be a free book giveaway for one lucky commenter!

What Nobody Tells You about Epiphany

candleEpiphany. I learned the word from Mr. Heagney, my English teacher, two decades ago, and I’ve been smitten with it ever since. Not only does it dance off the tongue nicely, but the meaning itself is magical: a sudden illuminating discovery or idea; a revelation; the moment the proverbial lightbulb goes on.

Epiphany is a remarkable day on the church calendar too: the holiday marking the revelation of God’s Son to the Magi. This was one of God’s brightest ideas ever: Heaven breaking through to earth. Darkness being trounced by starlight. Kings bowing down before the true King. Hope busting through in the most glorious way.

I long for epiphanies myself. I yearn for the lightbulb to go on, for my fuzzy thinking to clear. I’m desperate for that creative idea, or for the key that will unlock my confusion or doubt or fear. I want to see a star from the east and drop everything to follow. I want a sign.

I’ve had a few moments like that in my life. Micro-revelations, perhaps, but glimpses of the divine nevertheless. Yet those moments are rare. Most days there are no stars in the night sky, no signs, no epiphanies. Most days I’m just treading along a dark path, half-hoping, half-praying that I’m headed in the right direction.

What they don’t tell you about epiphanies is that the star doesn’t stay in the sky forever. After the Magi visited God Incarnate, they headed back to their own country, back to their ordinary lives. Maybe their hearts were irrevocably changed, but life went on.

So what does it look to live out Epiphany even when there’s no miracle at the moment, when the star has faded in the night sky?

That’s when it’s time to hold on, my friend. What you saw when you glimpsed the divine—it was real. What you felt in that moment when God touched your heart—it was valid. The words of hope you heard whispered in the middle of the night—they were true.

So keep believing in the epiphanies. Keep looking for them. They will come. But don’t depend on them. Because faith means holding on to the fact that heaven broke through earth, even after the star has dimmed and you have to go back to your ordinary life. Faith means remembering that miracles are true, even when it’s been some time since you witnessed one firsthand.

Faith means holding on to Epiphany even when there’s no sign. It’s choosing to light a candle when the starlight has faded.

Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.

Frederick Buechner

Baby Son

nativityI am on a double countdown ’til Christmas this year. My new baby niece or nephew is due any day, and the two calendars are racing. Which will make its debut first? Baby Jesus’ birthday, or the birth day of this new baby?

When my sister was little, she prepared for Christmas like it was her job. She convinced Dad to cut down the tip-top of a pine tree from the woods to put in her room, and Mom helped her string lights from her ceiling. By mid-December, Meghan’s room was a full-blown Santa’s workshop. She’d haul up every craft supply she could find and post a note on the door, with dramatic underlines: “TOP SECRET! Keep out.” She’d spend every waking moment the final weeks before Christmas making all manner of glittery cut-out snowflakes and construction-paper ornaments for the whole family.

This year Meghan is doing a different kind of preparation as the days tick down. She’s getting a room ready for the baby. She’s packing a go-bag for the hospital. She’s making weekly treks to the doctor, checking to make sure the baby is in position. She’s prepping two-year-old Addie to be a big sister (including the possibility that, despite Addie’s adamancy that’s it’s a girl, there’s a chance she may be getting a brother).

There is so much we don’t know about this baby. Besides the gender, we don’t know what this child will look like, what kind of personality is tucked into that curled-up body, what this little one will become someday, or how the world needs this child, specifically. And yet our hearts are full of anticipation. So much longing, so much joy over this tiny person, veiled in so much mystery.

And it occurs to me that Mary must have felt much the same. It’s funny, isn’t it, that some of the biggest miracles come to us in such small packages? I wonder why God would come so tiny, so unobtrusive, when He could have come in pomp and circumstance.

In church last weekend my husband played the song “Baby Son” by John Mark McMillan, and I couldn’t help but think of the baby son (or daughter) my family is waiting to meet. So much future, so much hope, packed into seven pounds of flesh.

We thought you’d come with a crown of gold
A string of pearls and a cashmere robe
We thought you’d clench an iron fist
And rain like fire on the politics

Would I have missed Him that first Christmas, I wonder? Would I have been so busy looking for a flashier miracle that I would have overlooked the ordinary mother and her baby? Would I have deigned to believe that God’s plan to save the world could start with something so small?

But without a sword, no armored guard
But common born in mother’s arms
The government now rests upon
The shoulders of this baby son

A field of daffodils begins with a single bulb. An avalanche starts with a tiny snowflake. A classic novel starts with a solitary word. An epic love story starts with a simple greeting. A person begins as a tiny baby.

And the hope for the world began with someone so small you could hold Him in your arms.

God delights in the small things, the ordinary things, the unexpected things. I always thought that was so everything would be unveiled at the right time and so all the prophecies would be fulfilled just so. But now I think there’s another reason too: because God knows we can only handle so much miracle at once. If He gave us the full-blown itinerary, we would melt into a puddle. And so He births some of His most beautiful, magnificent plans as small beginnings.

Have you no room inside your heart
The inn is full, the out is dark
Upon profane shines sacred sun
Not ashamed to be one of us

So I’m spending this season in anticipation, alongside Mary and Meghan. I find myself waiting . . . waiting for Meghan’s baby son (or daughter). And waiting for God’s own Baby Son, who came once and will come again.

Our hearts are ready. We are longing for you. We have made room. Please come!

God’s coming is always unforeseen, I think, and the reason, if I had to guess, is that if he gave us anything much in the way of advance warning, more often than not we would have made ourselves scarce long before he got there.
~Frederick Buechner

Book Club Discussion: Wearing God

Thanks to everyone who read Wearing God by Lauren Winner. I’m looking forward to hearing what you thought of the book!Wearing God

Here’s how it works: I’ll throw out a few topics for discussion, and you can write your responses about these topics (or anything else you’d like to say) in the comment section.

I have been a fan of Lauren Winner’s writing for years (I loved Girl Meets God, and I had the privilege of hearing her speak at The Festival of Faith and Writing several years ago). As someone who finds it hard to get my brain around something as big and mysterious and intangible as the nature of God, I am constantly seeking metaphors and analogies to piece together a truer understanding of him. I was excited to read Winner’s book about some of the more obscure or overlooked metaphors the Bible uses to describe God’s character.

Discussion #1: Images of God

Lauren Winner says that as a Christian community, we tend to overemphasize certain names/metaphors for God (Shepherd, King, Father) while overlooking others that would help give us a more fleshed-out picture of his character. She explores the idea of God as clothing, smell, bread and wine, a laboring woman, laughter, and fire, and unpacks these metaphors in striking ways.

I began to realize that my pictures of God were old. They were not old in the sense of antique champagne flutes, which are abundant with significance precisely because they are old. . . . Rather, they were old like a seventh-grade health textbook from 1963: moderately interesting for what it might say about culture and science in 1963, but generally out of date.

Do you agree that some of our images of God are old and worn out? Which image/metaphor of God do you resonate with most (either from this book or in general)?

Discussion #2: Scandalous Comparisons

I have to admit that some of the metaphors for God made me a little squeamish. Really, isn’t it a little undignified to picture the God of the universe as a pregnant woman agonizing in a birthing room? And isn’t it, well, indecorous to think of God wanting us to become drunk on him? But as I read, it occurred to me that that’s exactly the point. We tend to put God in a tidy little box so we can pin him down and understand him, but over and over the Bible blows our minds with how God is so far beyond our comprehension.

This is why Jesus is hymned not as grape juice but as wine: because He is dangerous and excessive.

Were there any images for God that didn’t sit well with you? Why or why not?

Discussion #3: Redefining Goodness

As I read this book, it occurred to me that one of the reasons we tend to shy away from certain metaphors about God is because they don’t seem to line up with our view of a good God. If God is fire, doesn’t that indicate he has the power to destroy as well as create? We are scared of this idea of an untamable God, so we stick to metaphors that we perceive as less threatening. But Winner gives us broader perspective, reminding us that while yes, God is good, that doesn’t mean we’ll never experience pain or hardship.

Maybe, if God is fire, we are a grove of ponderosa pines. Without the heat and burn of God’s flame, our pinecones would remain closed tight around the seeds that are needed for our thriving and growth and new life.

Have you ever seen God as fire in your life, not only bringing warmth but also purifying you?

Discussion #4: God as One Who Hides

One of the final descriptions the author offers of God is as one who hides. She quotes Isaiah as saying “You are a God who hides himself”—Deus absconditus.

Sometimes God hides. Sometimes what I might first name as God’s absence is in fact God’s hiding. In a sense, God hides amid all the many divine metaphors and similes that litter the scriptures. This is a God who conceals and reveals.

Have you ever experienced a season when it seems that God is hiding? How are you encouraged by this promise in Jeremiah: “When you search for me, you will find me”?

Discussion #5: Rating

I would give this book 4 stars out of 5. I don’t agree with all of the author’s theology, but I appreciate the way she tackles some intriguing (and often difficult) pictures of God. This book got me thinking about God’s character more deeply, and I found myself connecting with him in new ways as a result.

How many stars would you give this book?

Remember: There will a giveaway for a free book for one lucky commenter!

Praying Upside Down

Praying Upside DownI recently finished reading a book called Praying Upside Down by Kelly O’Dell Stanley. I tend to gravitate away from books about prayer, because in general the book I need most about prayer can be summed up in one short sentence: “Shut up and pray.” Truth be told, my biggest problem isn’t usually the nuances or the how-tos of prayer; more often it’s about flat-out Not Doing It.

But this book is an exception—it offers something fresh to the conversation about prayer. It isn’t theoretical; it’s a practical approach to prayer. And the author comes at the topic from an interesting perspective, tackling prayer as an artist. Kelly shows what white space, sketching, point of view, and other artistic concepts can teach us about prayer. For a non-artist like me, all of this was revelatory.

If your prayers are starting to feel stale, this book will help you get out of a rut. And if you’re finding it hard to pray right at all right now, this book will help you get unstuck.

One of the things I appreciate most about this book is how the author emphasizes the importance of gaining a new perspective when we’re praying. In art, if you’re not able to capture the piece you want to create, it’s probably time to move to a new position. And the same is true about prayer: If you find yourself unable to connect with God, it may be time to change positions and get a fresh perspective.

Kelly describes something she and a friend prayed about: “When we found a way to get unstuck, God answered. When we tried something new, we saw different results.” Case in point: if everything in your life is hard at the moment and it’s hard to talk to God about it, it may be time to step to the side and take a look at things from another angle.

If there’s a flood in your basement, that means you have a home . . . and a basement to thank God for.

If your house isn’t selling and you’re starting to get stressed about the timing, maybe it’s time to start praying for the person who will buy your house.

If you’re having trouble praying for a situation in your own life, offer to pray for a friend and ask them to pray for you.

Most of all, I appreciate the way Kelly reminds us that ultimately prayer isn’t about us; it’s about God. And he is more powerful and more caring than we typically give him credit for.

The effectiveness of our prayers doesn’t come down to how good our prayers are; it comes down to how good God is. As Kelly puts it, “Just because I had run out of things to do didn’t mean He had.”

***

Too often, we miss seeing God because we think His answer will look different than it does.
~Kelly O’Dell Stanley

Yellow Jacket Invasion, Part 2

beekeeper[See Yellow Jacket Invasion Part 1 for the first part of this story.]

A month into our home ownership gig, it seemed like Daniel and I were losing: Calamities 2; Daniel and Stephanie Team 0. First there was the flood of epic proportions; now the yellow jackets. We were certainly learning a lot, and we were wrangling our house into a home, but we would be content to stop the plagues at two.

Meanwhile, I was grateful to be on the other side of the glass while the beekeeper worked his disappearing act on two hundred-some yellow jackets.

Daniel and I stood safely outside with our noses pressed to the window while our apian hero vacuumed up hundreds of the stinging little monsters and removed chunk after chunk of the yellow jacket nest. I’m pretty sure I counted to six football-sized pieces before I blacked out.

An hour or so into the removal process, I’d seen all I needed to see. Now that the initial shock had worn off, I was starting to get fidgety as the daylight ticked away and no progress was being made on my to-do list. Vacuum the carpet—nope, couldn’t do that right now. Clean the bathrooms—also an inside job. Shoot, even the to-do list was inside.

The only thing I could do was sit on the back porch. And sit.

Taking the Sting Out

We’d put up a hummingbird bird feeder the day before, but so far the birds had been a little skittish about dropping by. We’dhummingbird seen a few of them take a sip, drive-thru style, but none of them had stopped to perch.

I admired the birds’ beauty and delicate wings, but it made me weary to see them flittering and skittering, never pausing to rest. Don’t you guys need to gear up for a super-long migration to Mexico? I asked them silently as they flitted by. We provided this rest stop just for you, with homemade food and everything. Don’t you want to stop and rest for a while?

And then the irony hit me with such force that I laughed at loud. “Okay, God, I get it.”

Ceasing Our Fluttering

It was the Sabbath, and I’d been flitting around like a little hummingbird all day long. Lots of motion . . . but for what?

God seemed to be telling me, not so subtly, that there was nothing else to do in that moment except sit rest. It was time to forget about my to-do list for a while and embrace the rest he was giving me (forcing on me?) on that sacred day. The vacuuming could wait. The to-do list could wait. For now, my job number one was to sit and enjoy the world he’d made. Hummingbirds and yellow jackets included.

In the name of God, stop a moment, cease your work, look around you.
—Leo Tolstoy

***

In case you’re wondering, the yellow jackets were all taken care of, and I didn’t see another one until the next morning, when Daniel donned his yellow cycling jersey (an odd choice for professional work attire, I thought). He kept looking at me expectantly after he got dressed, as if waiting for me to catch a punch line.

Finally it hit me: sure enough, it was another yellow jacket.

Yellow Jacket Invasion, Part 1

hive

On a Sunday not long ago, I woke up with my mind buzzing, making a mental list of all the things I needed to do that day. We’d recently moved into our new home, and we were getting ready for six houseguests and a dozen or so dinner guests later that week.

This meant it was probably time to locate the floor of the guest bedroom, which had been strewn with all manner of Things I Don’t Know What to Do With since we moved.

But I had a deadline, and I was motivated. I’d vacuum, mop floors, scrub toilets, organize, unpack—nothing was going to stop me. I was pretty sure I would put Martha Stewart to shame.

The Best-Laid Plans of Critters and Women

Around 6 p.m., I was making some progress on my ambitious to-do list, if not as big of a dent as I’d hoped. That’s when I walked into the living room and heard a strange humming sound. I headed toward the corner where the noise seemed to be coming from . . . and promptly went into cardiac arrest.

The windows were covered with yellow jackets. ON THE INSIDE.

I looked up to see the tiniest hole in the ceiling where the devilish little creatures were filing into the living room, one after the other. It was like a horror movie, minus the popcorn.

At that point I did what every independent, self-sufficient modern woman does: I ran outside to find my husband.

Daniel looked at my face and immediately stopped what he was doing. “Are you okay?”

I nodded automatically. “Yes . . .”

And then it hit me: NO, I AM NOT OKAY. There are hundreds of large flying insects with stingers on them, and they are INSIDE OUR HOUSE. I will never sleep here again. On second thought, I may never sleep again, period.

Thankfully Daniel came up with a plan, because my brain couldn’t get past “GET OUT!” and “LOCK THE DOOR BEHIND YOU!”

Here was the plan: Daniel would scope out the situation in the living room and see if he could duct-tape over the yellow jackets’ Gateway to Paradise while I went online to look for the nearest beekeeper/environmentally friendly insect remover/who-am-I-kidding, someone to fumigate the entire zip code.

I made a beeline (sorry, couldn’t pass that one up) for the computer upstairs, slamming doors behind me and lying to myself that surely those flimsy slabs of wood would keep the critters out, despite the glaring fact that not even drywall could stop them.

Count Your Yellow Jackets; Name Them One by One

After about five phone calls to no avail (apparently it’s wise to schedule your bee-related emergencies for non-weekend hours), I finally got ahold of someone who was willing to leave his dinner on the table and come to our assistance. (There’s a teeny chance I sounded a little deranged by this point, so he might not have felt like he had much of a choice.)

The beekeeper arrived in his head-to-toe bee suit and confirmed our suspicions. “Yep, you’ve got yellow jackets. Probably two to three hundred in your house, and that’s a lowball.”

As I darted to the relative safety of the great outdoors, it occurred to me how quickly my priority list had been turned upside down. When my feet hit the ground that morning, my main concern had been having a sparkly-clean home for our guests, but now, suddenly, all I cared about was that it was bee-free.

Toilet scrubbing isn’t a bad thing, of course, but it can be if it becomes all-important. And I had to wonder: What else needs to shift in my priorities so I can keep the main things the main things? One thing was certain: God would go to great lengths to get my attention. And I had two hundred yellow jackets to prove it.

[Stay tuned tomorrow for the rest of the story!]