“I see holiness in giving and receiving love when there is absolutely nothing that can be fixed, and when there’s no exit strategy in sight.” ~ from Rare Bird: a memoir of loss and love by Anna Whiston-Donaldson (p. 105)

About this book: (from the publisher)

On the other side of heartbreak, a story of hope rises. 

On an ordinary September day, twelve-year-old Jack is swept away in a freak neighborhood flood. His parents and younger sister are left to wrestle with the awful questions: How could God let this happen? And, Can we ever be happy again? They each fall into the abyss of grief in different ways. And in the days and months to come, they each find their faltering way toward peace.

In Rare Bird, Anna Whiston-Donaldson unfolds a mother’s story of loss that leads, in time, to enduring hope. “Anna’s storytelling,” says Glennon Doyle Melton, “is raw and real and intense and funny.”

With this unforgettable account of a family’s love and longing, Anna will draw you deeper into a divine goodness that keeps us—beyond all earthly circumstances—safe. This is a book about facing impossible circumstances and wanting to turn back the clock. It is about the flicker of hope in realizing that in times of heartbreak, God is closer than your own skin. It is about discovering that you’re braver than you think.

About the author: (from the publisher) Anna Whiston-Donaldson holds a master’s degree in English from Wake Forest University. She taught high school English and photojournalism for six years. Currently, she is popular blogger and manages a Christian bookstore. She lives with her husband, Tim, and daughter, Margaret, in suburban Washington, DC. She blogs at An Inch of Gray.

Genre: Non-fiction/Memoir

If this book were a movie, I would rate it: R for language, PG-13 for everything else–but with a huge disclaimer. Yes, this book contains cussing. But those words–every one of them–absolutely belong here. This story could not be told with any kind of integrity without them.

How I’d judge this cover to suit the story: Perfection

Reminds me of… Sober Mercies by Heather Kopp (who, not coincidentally, helped birth this memoir); various work of Anne Lamott

Will especially appeal to… women whose encounter with grief has been up close and personal

Would I read another by this author? Oh my. Yes.

This story matters because it offers hope to the despairing, courage to those discouraged–from a mom who’s been there (and arguably still is)

My take: I am surely not the only mom to engage in a love-hate tussle with this memoir. 

On the one hand: a beloved son’s shocking death. A young mom’s grief. The tattered remnant of a family barely holding it together. The knowledge that if it could happen to them, it could happen to any of us. Ugh. HATE.

On the other hand: miraculous signs and wonders. “Pockets of peace.” God’s undeniable, tangible comfort and love. A community joined in beautiful grief and remembrance. Hope that life does indeed carry on. Healing happens. For all of us. Wow. LOVE.

Though this book came highly recommended to me (and is now a most deserving NYT Best Seller), I cannot say it was an easy memoir to read. It’s about love and loss, after all–the love of a mother for her son, and the horrific loss she endures when he dies suddenly on her watch. The boy’s name is Jack, and he has a younger sister named Margaret. At the time of his death, Jack had just started 7th grade, Margaret 5th.

Those who know my family will immediately spy the similarity: I have a beloved boy named Jack in 7th grade. His younger sister, Madeline, is in 5th.

There were other connections too. The boy-in-the-book Jack’s life verse was Luke 1:37–For nothing is impossible with God. It’s a piece of Scripture I know very well. It was my own anchor verse in the hope-filled months leading up to our Jack’s miraculous conception. More superficially, there is also the fact that the author’s family lives in suburban D.C., mere miles from where I myself once lived. Familiar territory, that.

So you can see why it might be a tough read.

But so, so worth it.

I did have to put it aside about halfway through. I was feeling low–not because of the book, I don’t think, but just down-ish for my own reasons, and reading about Anna’s anguish wasn’t helping me any. But I had no intention of putting it down for good, and when I did pick it up again a few days later, I found it hope-filled and encouraging. In fact, in the very next pages I read at least three gems I marked for savoring, simple yet profound observations like, “It is in the telling and retelling that we work our way through painful territory and gain insight” (p. 103). And “Some people who reach out express a fear that they are overstepping…I thank each one with a grateful heart, because she might be the exact person I need in this one lonely moment” (p. 104).

Anna Whiston-Donaldson is a woman who likes to write, and she uses this gift to usher in not only her own healing, but others’ as well. Beautifully written, poignantly told, this is one memoir you won’t want to miss.

[Tweet “Beautifully written, poignantly told, a memoir you won’t want to miss. Rare Bird by Anna Whiston-Donaldson @ConvergentBooks @aninchofgray”]

Excerpted from Rare Bird by Anna Whiston-Donaldson Copyright © 2014 by Anna Whiston-Donaldson. Excerpted by permission of Convergent Books, a division of Penguin Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

I received this book from Blogging for Books for this review. All opinions are mine. 

After words: I must thank my dear friend Paula for putting me onto this book. She wrote me the day after she read it herself, saying, You have to review this one. Paula is the mother of five boys herself–none of them named Jack, but still, five times the reason I have to be afraid of this story. But she was right–I did have to review this one. It’s one of those that you want every mom to read so that she can be encouraged–literally, to find courage to mother, which is quite possibly the most frightening calling on earth. Anyway, Paula penned a lovely review at Barefoot, her beautiful blog, where she writes regularly about living life vulnerable to God. Check it out.