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11 comments:
I'm intrigued about the contents of this book, and would love to read it. How to live a great story? Who can resist that?
I didn't know what kind of stories you were looking for on your last post - humorous? poignant? intense? passionate? light-hearted? I love hearing life stories, especially those that make me think or make me laugh. The book sounds really interesting.
I couldn't think of a story.... but I would like to read it!
I would love to win this book.
Allie,
Count me in! I got a one in 4 chance.
kayan
I got to hear Donald Miller talk about this book while he was in the process of writing it. It sounded like it would be awesome and I'm glad you found it to be so.
I do want the book but don't have time to read it these days. However, if you are doing a random drawing i promise to read it in December when I have free time again.
p.s. - while i don't comment enough I love your blog. I feel like i'm still part of the cool crowd that knows whats happening in the Brannon Family Life.
Once there was a family with a Daddy, a Mommy, and two wonderful little boys. All four of them wanted a little girl to be part of the family, so they asked God for a little girl. God told them He would give them a little girl, but they would have to wait until everything was just right. In the mean time they should get ready. Right now they are still getting things ready, and they are excited about the little girl that God will have ready soon. When God is ready the little girl will have a wonderful Daddy, and Mommy, and two wonderful Big Brothers.
I am totally with you on Miller's writing style. Ryan and I were reading "Blue Like Jazz" together, but Ryan is actually so turned off by the tone/style that I'm now reading it on my own! (We've picked a new book to read together:))
A story, hmm?
Well, last night we had our first preview. (FYI: A Preview is a full performance of the show, for a full audience before the official Premiere. It gives us a chance to see how certain jokes, songs, scenes etc. work with a live, responsive group of people). There were about 1500 enthusiastic people there. German audiences are funny. They are relatively quiet during the show, but Man-o-man are they appreciative at the end! We probably bowed for 15 minutes. The funniest part is that after we sang our encore number they started to shout "Encore!" I actually said out loud " That WAS our encore!" All 20-something of us had to decide, on the spot, on what number to do one more time because this crowd couldn't get enough. The best part of it all was that I was having a, shall we say, "wardrobe malfunction". I couldn't get my skirt to stay closed in the back! I've never had this problem with it before but of course on the Evening of A Thousand Bows I was forced to give the band quite a show. (Better the band than the audience, right?) Needless to say, I was very pleased to sing the 2nd encore, exit right and go find my pants!
THE END
It was a regular morning. I was taking advantage of a quiet moment nursing my seven mpnth old to clean out my inbox when a simple string of sentences catapulted my Mama heart into new territory.
"Mama friends, I lost my dear friend Jen this morning as she napped with her six week old baby girl. She was completely healthy, we don't know what happened. Her daughter Sara was breast fed.
I am going to start sharing my milk with Sara. Do any of you have extra that you can share too?"
I looked down at my Addison, all soft curves and plump rolls, nestled in my arms being nurtured and satisfied at my breast and thought, "I could share some milk with this sweet Mama-less baby..." When my infant interrupted her own meal with the gift of her milky smile, it was final. I could, and I would share with this little stranger a most intimate gift- something that before this moment had been reserved for my own precious children alone.
Later that day when my two year old, Caiden asked why I was "taking out all of Addion's milk" I explained that we were going to share some of her milk with a tiny little baby whose Mama couldn't nurse her any more because she was with Jesus. I spoke tenatively, gently. My daughter is so sensitive to pain- especially my own. I was unsure how she would respond, so when she looked at me solemnly, dropped her toy and ran from the room, my heart sank. Seconds later she returned and clambered onto the couch, sitting right next to me. She grabbed the breast pump, stuck it under her shirt and announced proudly, "I'll help too."
I just read Shae's story. give it to her!
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