Books That Burned My House Down

I am a reader. Reading allows me to dream bigger, be reflective, and be challenged. Books are often mirrors showing who I am in contrast with who I’d like to be. They are often purifying flames that set ablaze things I’ve built. Setting my ideals and ways of doing afire, leaving only the pieces of me that were strong enough to survive.

As a wife and mother, I have to be honest and tell you, there are absolutely parts of who I thought I was that I have sacrificed for the greater good of my family. But don’t shed a tear for me just yet, and certainly don’t think this is some pity party post I’m throwing myself. This is an unpopular opinion, but I believe that our western culture is far too obsessed with the concept of happiness and how to achieve it. It is presumed the ultimate objective and goal of nearly everything we do in life. Get married and your husband will make you happy. When he doesn’t, move on to find your happy again. Have children. They will love you and make you happy. Travel. It will fulfill you and make you happy. Get fit. It will make you happy. Find the perfect career. You will be happy. Put yourself first, and you will be happy. And on and on it goes. If happiness were my ultimate objective in life, I’d have no husband, abandon my kids, give away my TV, cover all the mirrors in the house, never attend another church service, or volunteer to help others…the list could go on endlessly.

I am in no way saying my family, media, my appearance, my church home, or helping others hasn’t brought the greatest of joys I’ve experienced in my life. But what I am saying is that if my goal is to only extract happiness from those people and encounters, I am selfishly creating an inhuman standard for those around me and myself. Life is made of up of tough things and sweet things and good things and really evil things. It’s just a part of it. I would not trade one of my bad marriage days for the thousands of good ones we’ve had. My toughest parenting days help make me that much stronger for the next one. Some of those dark, hurtful places are what makes the great moments that much more precious. But I also acknowledge that we have some experiences that don’t seem to teach or help but only hurt and devastate. But such is life too.

I say all of this to tell you, books, for me, are a sort of returning to myself. Because what I choose to read is what I fully intended to. Books aren’t forced or thrown upon me, but a choice I get to make. It seems like it’s just for me, but it ends up being such a beautiful overflowing to those I encounter on my journey. I don’t read just to ‘find my happy’, but to be ever growing and learning. I become a little more cultured (and sometimes, a little more country) with each page I consume. In those pages, I decide to be a better friend, a better mom, a better daughter, sister, cook, listener, writer, wife. The book that does this in the best possible way is my trusty Sword that both cuts me and protects me. God’s Word, for me, is the original taste of goodness. It does well, not to necessarily define me, but define God and who I am in light of Him. It’s refining fire demolishes and rebuilds me over and over again. Each time, changing my appearance inside and out.

I believe that God has created so many talented people on this earth that He has equipped with wisdom and humor, delightful and hard things to say to humankind. I want to share with you a few of my favorites here. Some are for parenting, some are for marriage, some are for when you need motivation. Some appealed to my culture and some appealed to my country. They all have helped me decide to be better and offer up a little more goodness to the world.

Parenting