Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

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Top 10 Favorite Books of 2019

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The year is not quite over yet, but I wanted to share my annual Favorite Books of the Year post with you, in case you need some good bookish gift ideas for the readers in your life (here are my 2017 and 2016 favorites lists for more ideas; I deleted my 2018 list by accident – oops!).

In 2019 I read 67 books, compared to 58 in 2018. Because I commute an hour back and forth from Lincoln to Omaha three times a week now, my audio book tally has increased quite a bit — 13 audio books this year compared to just two last year.

Some of my favorites this year have been around for a while — just because I read them in 2019 doesn’t necessarily mean they were published in 2019. And one of my favorites this year, Peace Like a River, was a re-read.

Here are my 10 favorite reads from 2019, followed by a complete list of all the books I read (the lists are not in any particular order).

An American Marriage
BY Tayari Jones

Genre: Fiction

About the Book: “Newlyweds Celestial and Roy are the embodiment of both the American Dream and the New South. He is a young executive, and she is an artist on the brink of an exciting career. But as they settle into the routine of their life together, Roy is arrested and sentenced to twelve years for a crime Celestial knows he didn’t commit. As Roy’s time in prison passes, Celestial, bereft and unmoored, is unable to hold on to the love that has been her center.” – from Amazon

Why It’s a Fave: Beautiful writing, complex characters and a deeply moving, compelling story, An American Marriage ticked all the boxes for me. I listened on audio, and the two actors who read the parts of Celeste and Roy were brilliant, which added to the overall appeal of the book.

Begin Again: The Brave Practice of Release Hurt and Receiving Rest 
BY Leena Tankersley

Genre: Christian Non-Fiction

About the Book: “What happens when life begins to trip us up and failure starts creeping in? Many of us just keep on doing the same thing, hoping for different results. Some of us look for escape, to find a way out of the mess we feel that we’ve created. But neither enduring nor escaping is ultimately what we need. The answer is to allow ourselves to begin again, every day, in every part of our lives.” – from Amazon

Why It’s a Fave: This was one of the first books I read after making the big decision to step out of the publishing arena last winter, and it was exactly what I needed. Begin Again gave me permission to  reevaluate my life and my choices and acknowledge what wasn’t working anymore. If you are in a season of transition, this book would be an excellent choice to help you navigate tumultuous seas.

Peace Like a River
BY Lief Enger

Genre: Fiction

About the Book: “Enger brings us eleven-year-old Reuben Land, an asthmatic boy in the Midwest who has reason to believe in miracles. Along with his sister and father, Reuben finds himself on a cross-country search for his outlaw older brother who has been charged with murder. Their journey unfolds like a revelation, and its conclusion shows how family, love, and faith can stand up to the most terrifying of enemies, and the most tragic of fates.” – from Amazon

Why It’s a Fave:  This one was a re-read for me, and I am SO glad I picked it up again, this time in audio form. Enger’s lyrical descriptions took my breath away, and his lively, deeply likable and wholesome characters warmed my heart and soul. I can’t imagine how this book could become anything other than an American classic alongside the likes of Wallace Stegner and Willa Cather (even if you don’t like Stegner and Cather, read this book!).

Happiness: A Memoir – The Crooked Little Road to Semi-Ever After 
BY Heather Harpham

Genre: Memoir

About the Book: “Happiness begins with a charming courtship between hopelessly attracted opposites: Heather, a world-roaming California girl, and Brian, an intellectual, homebody writer, kind and slyly funny, but loath to leave his Upper West Side studio. Their magical interlude ends, full stop, when Heather becomes pregnant―Brian is sure he loves her, only he doesn’t want kids. Heather returns to California to deliver their daughter alone, but mere hours after Gracie’s arrival, Heather’s bliss is interrupted when a nurse wakes her, ‘Get dressed, your baby is in trouble.'” – from Amazon

Why It’s a Fave: I love memoir, and this one is impeccable — beautifully written, riveting storytelling, likable characters. I loved it so much I stalked, friended and followed the author on all of her social media channels. A story about love, parenting, human connection and impossible choices, this was one I could not put down.

The Dreamers
BY Karen Thompson Walker

Genre: Fiction

About the Book: “One night in an isolated college town, a first-year student stumbles into her dorm room, falls asleep—and doesn’t wake up. Her roommate, Mei, cannot rouse her. Neither can the paramedics, nor the perplexed doctors at the hospital. When a second girl falls asleep, and then a third, Mei finds herself thrust together with an eccentric classmate as panic takes hold of the college and spreads to the town. Those affected by the illness, doctors discover, are displaying unusual levels of brain activity. They are dreaming heightened dreams—but of what?” – from Amazon

Why It’s a Fave: The Dreamers has a bit of a post-apocalyptic feel to it, which isn’t something I normally jibe with…and yet, I was captivated by this book. Simultaneously creepy, mysterious and evocative, this gripping novel was a page-turner.

Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants
BY Robin Wall Kimmerer

Genre: Non-Fiction

About the Book: “As a botanist, Robin Wall Kimmerer has been trained to ask questions of nature with the tools of science. As a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, she embraces the notion that plants and animals are our oldest teachers. In Braiding Sweetgrass, Kimmerer brings these two lenses of knowledge together to take us on “a journey that is every bit as mythic as it is scientific, as sacred as it is historical, as clever as it is wise.'” – from Amazon

What It’s a Fave: This book ticked all my science/plant nerd boxes AND is beautifully written too — lyrical, personable and accessible. I read each chapter slowly, savoring Kimmerer’s descriptions and observations, grateful for her poignant stories that illustrate how people and plants, earth and humanity need each other, are made for each other and are better together.

Eleanor & Park
BY Rainbow Rowell

Genre: YA Fiction

About the Book: “Set over the course of one school year in 1986, this is the story of two star-crossed misfits smart enough to know that first love almost never lasts, but brave and desperate enough to try. When Eleanor meets Park, you’ll remember your own first love-and just how hard it pulled you under.” – from Amazon

Why It’s a Fave: I absolutely adored this YA romance about two high school sweetheart misfits and believe me, YA romance is not typically my genre of choice. Not only is this story sweet, Rowell does an astonishing job of getting inside the heads of adolescents — I honestly don’t know how she does it. As an added bonus, the book is set in 1986, and I graduated from high school in 1988, so all the 80s references were spot. on. (also I listened to this one on audio and the actor did a brilliant job).

Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: A Therapist, HER Therapist and Our Lives Revealed
BY Lori Gottlieb

Genre: Memoir/Self-Help

About the Book: “With startling wisdom and humor, Gottlieb invites us into her world as both clinician and patient, examining the truths and fictions we tell ourselves and others as we teeter on the tightrope between love and desire, meaning and mortality, guilt and redemption, terror and courage, hope and change.” – from Amazon

Why It’s a Fave: Part memoir, part brilliant self-help, this book made me laugh out loud one minute (Gottlieb, a therapist who winds up going to counseling herself, is wry, self-deprecating and sardonic – the kind of smart humor I love most) and had me jotting notes into my journal the next. My own therapist recommended this book to me, in part because Gottlieb wrestles with the decision of whether or not to break a book contract (now THAT sounds familiar!), but also, I think, because she knew it would resonate with me as an insightful, thoughtful, entertaining memoir.

Olive, Again
BY Elizabeth Strout

Genre: Fiction

About the Book: “‘Prickly, wry, resistant to change yet ruthlessly honest and deeply empathetic, Olive Kitteridge is ‘a compelling life force.’ Whether with a teenager coming to terms with the loss of her father, a young woman about to give birth during a hilariously inopportune moment, a nurse who confesses a secret high school crush, or a lawyer who struggles with an inheritance she does not want to accept, the unforgettable Olive will continue to startle us, to move us, and to inspire us—in Strout’s words—’to bear the burden of the mystery with as much grace as we can.'” – from Amazon

Why It’s a Fave:  Olive Kitteridge is one of my favorite books of all time, and the sequel, Olive Again, did not disappoint. The format is the same, with loosely connected short-storyish chapters, all set in the small seaside Maine town — some of them featuring Olive as the main focus, others merely mentioning her in passing or even not at all. The stories can feel bleak at times, but Olive’s candor brings a levity that helps even out some of the more somber chapters.

Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom
BY John O’Donohue

Genre: Non-Fiction

About the Book: “In Anam Cara, Gaelic for ‘soul friend,’ the ancient teachings, stories, and blessings of Celtic wisdom provide such profound insights on the universal themes of friendship, solitude, love, and death.

Why It’s a Fave: The late Irish poet and philosopher John O’Donohue is such a gentle soul, and his wisdom runs deep. Anam Cara is a profound exploration of the heart, mind and soul’s journey through the stages of life. I dog-eared dozens of pages and copied numerous passages into my journal so I can come back to them again. This book has been deeply illuminating for me as I walk through my own season of growth.

::

Here are the other books I read in 2019 (Note: the letter “A” denotes audio version; “RR” denotes a re-read.) These are Amazon affiliate links.

The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
You Think It I’ll Say It: Stories – Curtis Sittenfeld
Make Time: How to Focus on What Matters Every Day – Jake Knapp & John Zeratsky
The Happiness Project – Gretchen Rubin (RR)
Walking – Henry David Thoreau
Come as You Are – Emily Nagoski
Better Than Before – Gretchen Rubin (A) (RR)
Atomic Habits – James Clear
The Soul Tells a Story: Engaging Creativity with Spirituality in the Writing Life – Vanita Wright
Nine Perfect Strangers – Liane Moriarty (A)
Homegoing – Yaa Gyasi
Inheritance: A Memoir of Genealogy, Paternity and Love – Dani Shapiro
Less – Andrew Sean Greer (A)
Placemaker: Cultivating Places of Beauty, Comfort and Peace – Christie Purifoy
The Artist’s Rule: Nurturing Your Creative Soul with Monastic Wisdom – Christine Valters Paintner
The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo – Taylor Jenkins Reid
Glorious Weakness: Discovering God in All We Lack – Alia Joy
The Next Right Thing – Emily Freeman
How to Disappear: Notes on Invisibility in a Time of Transparency – Akiko Busch
Sharp Objects – Gillian Flynn
The Universal Christ – Richard Rohr
Overstory – Richard Powers
Brazen: The Courage to Find the You That’s Been Hiding – Leanna Tankersley (A)
Zoo Nebraska – Carson Vaughn
Me Talk Pretty One Day – David Sedaris (A)
Digital Minimalism – Cal Newport
The Light We Lost – Jill Santopolo
Housekeeping — Marilynne Robinson
The River – Peter Heller
Soulful Simplicity: How Living with Less Can Lead to So Much More – Courtney Carver
The Forgotten Garden – Kate Morton
Bear Town – Frederik Backman
Lila – Marilynne Robinson
Light from Distant Stars – Shawn Smucker
Where the Crawdads Sing – Delia Owens
The Middle Matters – Lisa-Jo Baker
City of Girls – Elizabeth Gilbert
Riverwalking – Kathleen Deane Moore
Making Marriage Beautiful – Dorothy Greco
The Dearly Beloved – Cara Wall
The Good House – Ann Leary
The Summer Book – Tove Jansson
The Testaments – Margaret Atwood
How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy – Jenny Odell
Ready Player One – Ernest Cline (A)
Permission to Feel: Unlocking the Power of Emotions to Help Our Kids, Ourselves and Our Society Thrive – Marc Brackett
Turtles All the Way Down – John Green (A)
Alphabet of Grace – Frederick Buechner
Play: How It Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination and Invigorates the Soul – Stuart Brown
Bossy Pants – Tina Fey (A) (RR)
Glitter and Glue – Kelly Corrigan
The New Old Me: My Late-Life Reinvention – Meredith Maran
Born on a Blue Day: Inside the Extraordinary Mind of an Autistic Savant – Daniel Tammet
Searching for Mom: A Memoir – Sara Easterly
Fangirl – Rainbow Rowell (A)
Mythical Me: Finding Freedom from Constant Comparison – Richella Parham
The Artist’s Way – Julia Cameron
Sing, Unburied, Sing – Jesmyn Ward (A)

Each month I include my current reads in my Back Patio newsletter, so if you are looking for book recommendations, you can subscribe to that newsletter over here. 

Tell me, what’s the best book you read in 2019? 

How to Have More Fun

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“Do you think it’s too late for me to become a fun person?” I called out to Brad from my perch on the sunroom loveseat.

“That’s a really un-fun question to ask!” Brad called back from the kitchen. His answer made me laugh, but my question was a serious one. I wanted to know: is it possible for a person – for me – to learn how to have fun?

This past September my 14-year-old son Rowan and I drove to the sprawling Lancaster Event Center to attend the Lincoln City Library’s annual used book sale. I’d marked the sale on our family calendar months before, and we’d been anticipating it for weeks, eager to see what literary treasures we would uncover among the thousands of books.

“Now don’t get your hopes up,” I cautioned Rowan as we wound our way through the packed parking lot, recyclable grocery bags tucked under our arms. “The sale started two days ago, so the selection is probably pretty picked over by now. I don’t know if there’ll be anything good left.”

I continued along in this vein for a few more seconds until Rowan interrupted me. “Geez, you really know how to suck the fun out of everything, don’t you?” he huffed.

I stopped walking. “Wait, what? What are you even talking about? I’m fun! I love fun! I’m way more fun than Dad! [When in doubt, always throw the other parent under the bus, right?] I absolutely do not ‘suck the fun’ out of everything!”

Rowan and I each left the library sale that morning with a hefty bag full of books. But weeks later, I was still thinking about his accusation. Do I suck the fun out of everything? Am I the nail-biting, naysaying, fretting fish to Rowan’s exuberant, fun-loving Cat in the Hat?

Do I even truly know how to have fun?

Lately I can’t help but wonder if perhaps I’ve camped out a bit too long (read: my whole life) in the realm of responsibility, rule-following and routine at the expense of spontaneity, creativity and fun.

Being responsible and fulfilling obligations are very good habits, to be sure. But I’m beginning to realize that responsibility can also be a cleverly disguised means of self-protection. Keeping on task, meeting deadlines and ticking items off a never-ending to-do list are all ways I attempt to maintain control over my life. After all, if I’m in control, nothing bad can happen, right? While I know this equation is deeply flawed, I still often live like it’s the truth.

The same can be said for my tendency to manage expectations. Entering into an experience with rock-bottom expectations is one of the ways I try to protect myself (and those I love) from disappointment. The trouble with this attempt at self-protection, though, is that not only is it not failsafe, it can also detract from and dilute the experience itself (or, as Rowan so succinctly stated, it “sucks the fun out of everything.”).

Over the last few weeks I’ve been working through the Cultivate What Matters 2020 Goal Planner – considering where I’ve been, who I am and who I might want to become. One of the six goals I’ve identified for this coming year is to have more fun.

It feels ridiculous to admit that here, and it felt ridiculous to pen it into my planner as an actual goal. It seems frivolous and more than a little silly. I mean, this is my big issue…to have more fun? Woe is me, right?

And yet, while I know it’s a privilege to have the means to focus on fun, I also believe that having fun is important because it’s one of the ways we live most fully as God intended. I believe God created us to be responsible and productive, but I also believe he created us to be playful, creative and fun-loving – full of joie de vivre, the joy of living, as the French say. Having fun is one of the many ways we come alive.

I don’t want to ditch my responsible, dutiful, rule-following nature entirely, but I do want to embrace a more open, curious, creative, whole way of living, which means nurturing and growing the parts of myself that have lain dormant for a good long while.

I suspect there are as many definitions and iterations of fun as there are people on this planet, but the truth is, I don’t really know what having fun looks like for me in this season of my life…which is exactly why I’ve kicked my frivolity-shame to the curb and made “have more fun” a goal for 2020.

And as the mom of the kid whose favorite question just a few years ago was, “What fun thing are we doing next?”, I am glad to have a fun mentor living right under my own roof.

Enter Into

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Last weekend I read through all my journal entries from the past year (a task that was equal parts cringe-y and illuminating), and I was shocked to see I’d written in mid-May that I was ready to begin my next creative project (though I admitted I didn’t yet know what that “creative project” would be). It had felt, then, like I was on the cusp of something new. I was eager to plan, to begin putting steps in place toward execution. I was ready for the next thing.

It’s clear to me now, six months later: I wasn’t even close to ready.

Although I wrote a whole blog post about “right now being my next thing” – and those words were true – at the same time, the productive, striving and achievement-oriented part of me assumed quitting one thing would inevitably open the way to another creative opportunity. And so, for several months now, I have been impatiently asking, “What’s next, God?”

Last weekend when I read through my journal entries from the past year, I did so with a yellow highlighter in hand. I was looking for hints, trail markers pointing to where the path might be leading. I circled a couple of passages and notes, but in the end, I didn’t find what I was looking for. No clear arrows, no flashing neon signs.

What I saw instead as I read through days and weeks and months of musings was the slow, almost imperceptible work of God. I saw the tiny seeds of transformation that had been planted and tended in the ordinary and quiet. It seems stepping out of book writing has indeed created space for something else, but that something else is not another opportunity to do or create or produce, but rather, to enter into.

“Doing things for God is the opposite of entering into what God does for you.” (Galatians 3:11-12, Msg.).

When I read Paul’s words recently, I realized how much I prefer “doing things for” over “entering into.” Doing things plucks my Type A, productive, achiever strings. I like a plan to execute, steps to tick off and, most importantly, something to show in the end for my efforts.

“Entering into,” on the other hand, while not entirely passive per se, is an act of relinquishment. When we enter into, we surrender control, releasing our desires, our ambitions, ourselves into what God is doing and has been doing all along.

It’s a little bit like the difference between vigorously swimming the crawl stroke upstream and strapping on an orange life vest, lying back with arms extended and toes pointed skyward and letting the current take you where it may.

Swimming the crawl stroke has its place, to be sure. Planning and accomplishing goals is part of healthy living. But I do think Paul is encouraging the Galatians (and us) to be patient with the process – or as philosopher and Jesuit priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin put it: to “trust in the slow work of God.”

“We should like to skip the intermediate stages. We are impatient to being on our way to something unknown, something new,” de Chardin acknowledged. “And yet it is the law of all progress that it is made by passing through some stages of instability – and that it may take a long time.”

These are hard words. These are words we might not easily accept and embrace. The intermediate stages of anything can be awkward and uncomfortable, and the middle always seems to last forever (remember middle school?). Most days, I am not down with floating in my orange life jacket. Most days, uncertainty is the worst, and instability is for the birds.

But I also know there is so much truth in de Chardin’s words.

It wasn’t obvious to me until I read back through a year’s worth of journal entries, but now I clearly see: this whole past year has been a practice of entering into what God is already doing – not only what he is doing in me, but also what he is doing in my place, in my communities, in the people I know and love and in those around me who are strangers.

I’m not sure when the “next thing” will present itself. Frankly, I’m not at all sure there is a “next thing.” Maybe it’s all one long walk through the intermediate stages. Maybe here, in the middle, is the actual sweet spot and entering into this is what we are called to do.

I Contain Multitudes

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Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
— Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

“I’m not a gym person.”

This is a declaration I have made often, and for the last 15 years or so, I’ve believed it and lived it. For as long as I have been a regular exerciser, I have been a runner who runs outdoors. I relish the bite of winter on my cheeks in January and summer’s humidity pressing heavy against my limbs in June. I love to glimpse what’s blooming as I run past – from the first hardy crocus pushing through the snow in early spring to the last of the goldenrod and purple aster in late fall.

Recently, though, sidelined by a chronic injury, I decided to accompany Brad to the Y to experiment with the elliptical machine. Much to my surprise, I enjoyed it – not so much the elliptical (which is frightfully boring), but rather, the whole gym “experience.” The camaraderie of exercising silently side-by-side with strangers before the sun has risen. The smooth vinyl under my body as I stretch on the blue mat and catch my breath. Watching people of every shape, age and size running, walking, pushing, pulling, lifting and climbing – striving toward whatever goal they’ve set for themselves that morning.

Turns out, I am a gym person after all.

“Those who attempt to work too long with a formula, even their own formula, eventually leach themselves of their creative truths,” writes Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way. Cameron is referring specifically to the writing process, but I think a similar statement can be made about our own selves.

I am a creature of habit who thrives within routine and structure. This explains why I have run the exact same route three to four times a week for the past 18 years. It explains why I have eaten the same mid-morning snack (16 almonds) at the same time (10 a.m.) every day for the past 10 years. I could give you a dozen such examples. Suffice to say, routine is my default mode.

Routines can be healthy and good, to be sure, and the truth is, I feel most safe, secure and confident when I am clicking along within my familiar routines. But I’m also learning that this kind of contained living can, over time, inhibit growth and lead to stagnation. Ultimately, being too wedded to our structures, routines and habits – to our “formula,” as Cameron calls it – will suffocate our soul.

Recently my son Noah and I explored a new-to-us local greenhouse, and while we were there, wending our way between stately candelabra cactus and lush fiddle leaf figs, I felt an inexplicable desire to buy a plant.

I have a handful of houseplants positioned in various sunny spots around my sunroom, but I’ve never considered myself “a plant person.” Suddenly, though, immersed in all that fecund green, breathing in the rich, humid scent of new growth, I knew something new about myself. The realization was like the sharp chime of a church bell reverberating across an Italian piazza: I love plants. Plants make me happy. I want a life with more plants.

So I bought a philodendron and a white pot, transplanted it on the driveway when I got home, and placed it on top of a bookcase near my desk in the sunroom.

“There’s something enlivening about expanding our self-definition,” acknowledges Cameron, “and a risk does exactly that.”

True, going to the gym or buying a philodendron are hardly big risky endeavors, but at the same time, I believe there is something important and telling even in these small steps. Any step outside the boundaries by which we have defined ourselves is a step into newness, and stepping into newness, no matter how seemingly small or inconsequential, is always a risk.

But it’s in these smallest of steps, these smallest of risks, that we begin to recognize and embrace the multitudes contained within us. When we allow ourselves to open to these small moments of knowing, we unclasp something deep within us, which in turn opens the way to living more fully and wholly as our true selves.

Turns out, I’m a gym person. Turns out, I’m a plant person, too. I contain multitudes.

And so do you.

Move at the Pace of What Is Real

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Yesterday, as I gathered my water bottle and purse to make my way to The Salvation Army community center in north Omaha, eight words on the back of my notebook caught my eye.

“Move at the pace of what is real.”

I’d scrawled the sentence at a stoplight when I’d heard it on a podcast a few days before. I hadn’t been sure at the time what it meant exactly, but it somehow seemed important, something to pay attention to. I read the words a second time as I fished out my keys and slipped into my winter coat.

As I turned down Pratt Street, I saw that the line of people waiting wrapped around the outside of the low-slung brick building and down the sidewalk. The gym, when I walked in, smelled like sneakers and cooked vegetables. I settled into a metal chair at the tables in front, straightened my pile of forms and reviewed the instructions. The hundreds of folding chairs in rows across the length and width of the basketball court filled quickly. Each person held a slip of paper with a number penned in black Sharpie.

I signaled to the organizer that I was ready to see the first Christmas assistance applicant.

***

I held up her child’s Social Security card. “Girl or boy?” I asked, pointing to the name on the card.

“A girl – nina,” Florencia said, smiling. “In Spanish, girls’ names end in ‘a,’ boys’ names end in ‘o,’” she explained, her accent thick, her voice kind.

“I should know that,” I said, laughing sheepishly. “I’m sorry my Spanish is so terrible.”

“No, no,” she assured me. “You are fine. You are good.”

“Your name is beautiful,” I said, as Florencia gathered her paperwork. “And now I know you are a girl because your name ends in ‘a.’”

She smiled. “You are learning,” she said.

***

“I thought I was going to have to tell you that you didn’t qualify for senior assistance,” I replied to Ernestina when she told me she was 77. “You don’t look a day over 60!”

“People tell me that all the time,” she said, the skin around her eyes crinkling into a smile. “I believe it, Ernestina,” I replied.

“Call me Ernie,” she said, as I handed her back her Social Security card.

***

“How are you two this afternoon?” I asked the couple slumped in the folding chairs across from me. “I’ve been better,” Billy said. “It’s gotten cold too early this year.”

Lana said nothing as she pushed their Social Security cards toward me. Billy’s card was worn soft as flannel, the nine-digit number faded to a blur.

“Looks like this one has gotten some use over the years,” I said, holding up the card. “Yup,” Billy said, nodding. “It’s the original. I carry it with me everywhere.”

“Try to stay warm today,” I said, as they stood to leave.

***

They came and sat across from me – some old, some young; some stooped and slow with canes, others with babies on their hips, stuffed diaper bags hanging from their shoulders.

Some spoke perfect English; others labored over their few words. Some were put together, hair flat-ironed, makeup perfectly applied. Many more were disheveled, in mismatched clothes and layers.

I completed the proper paperwork – checking boxes, confirming addresses and telephone numbers, verifying documents, asking names and ages and shoe sizes and toy suggestions for their children and grandchildren. The line was long, and the chairs in the gym kept filling one after the other, but it seemed important not to rush. We made small talk and eye contact, and sometimes we laughed before we got down to business.

We sat across from one another in metal folding chairs in a gym that smelled like sneakers and cooked vegetables, and we moved at the pace of what was real.

 

Photo by Sangga Rima Roman Selia on Unsplash