Mercy Me

It dawned on me only afterward that I had read two consecutive books with mercy in the title and then another about the power of forgiveness.

"The power of just mercy is that it belongs to the undeserving.  It's when mercy is least expected that it's most potent - strong enough to break the cycle of victimization and victimhood, retribution and suffering." 

- Stevenson B. Just Mercy p. 317 (Libby version)

Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson is a book everyone should read.  And I'd recommend to follow it up with The Sun Does Shine by Anthony Ray Hinton.

"I was born with the same gift from God we are all born with - the impulse to reach out and lessen the suffering of another human being.  It was a gift, and we each had a choice whether to use this gift or not. 

- Hinton, A. R. The Sun Does Shine p. 140

Neither are easy reads but they shouldn't be.  Criminal justice reform, wrongful conviction, and the death penalty are topics from which most would want to turn away rather than turn towards.  For ways you can get involved, the Equal Justice Initiative is a good place to start.

Praying in the Bathroom

Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott was another respite in this time of quarantine, in this time of not traveling.  Kept inside by proclamations and duty, moving through new rhythms, adapting.

How fortunate I am to pass this time with someone who understands my sometimes urgent need to read and to let me pass hours, uninterrupted, shedding tears or laughing aloud without judgement or noise and replenishing the glass of water by my side without my having to ask.

My faith needed a boost and my spirit needed a lift.  

An unexpected answer to a prayer.  

I'm totally going to start adding exclamation marks to a few of the names on my list.

Pruning

It was a little over two weeks ago that I found myself wide awake at 1:00 a.m., unable to sleep, and without a book to read.  I had a few queued up in the list, but none were available from the library.

Like a lot of you, I have a set of Notes that are devoted to books, movies, and podcasts recommended by others.  Some of these are half-jotted from a cocktail party, mis-spelled because it was a dark room, and one stood out:  "Bones Blood Better." What in the world was this, and when did I add it to my list?  Google alerted me to the error of my notation and gifted me the author's name.  Was it available?  Absolutely.

The next morning, I was reading through the NYT and clicked "My Restaurant Was My Life for 20 Years. Does the World Need it Anymore" by Gabrielle Hamilton.  I took this to be a sign that it was time for her book.   Blood, Bones, & Butter first, and then I'd let myself read Hamilton's piece in the Magazine.

Between meals, clean-up and the practice in pastelería, nearly half of my day is in the kitchen.  It's not a complaint, it's just a channel in the quarantine.  I wanted to read about cooking and about writing and about hard loves and well, life.

I couldn't help to get pulled back into my memories of Vermont and five minutes showers and crazy family meals where I felt like the outsider as the lone Southerner.  I remember my midnight tour of Rome and the early morning snack and drinks, and how did the Colosseum look so magnificent and empty?  And I think about Argentina and family meals and cooking.

I like that about books.  These threads that bind us as humans, even if we're never met, even if our experiences are not the same.  That we all have flaws and courage, and sometimes it's just better to lay it all out like a mise en place, waiting for that moment that the dish comes out just the way we like it, even if maybe we didn't do it in the order in which we were taught.