“Nobody’s ideals form them like their loves form them.” – Ann Voskamp
I paused on page 117 of The Broken Way, the morning sun streaming through my bedroom window and across my bed, putting a spotlight on my slumbering, gently snoring beagle.
I thought of an old friend, who turned down open-hearted friendship in favor of fellowship with close-minded ideals.
I felt something stir.
Maybe Love would one day draw him.
Maybe, in the end, Love would form.
I read on to a new chapter. Mean girls and devouring women.
Unexpected tears rolled.
Not sobs, not even a cry, just a few stray tears churned up by a benign sorrow.
p. 189: “I’ve made wide berths around women for years and skirted the communion of community because who knew when smiles could turn into fangs if you turned your back?”
You and me both, Ann.
I closed the book and put in a load of laundry. Socks and underwear.
I love any piece of writing that churns a memory, an emotion, a “me, too.” I love writing that keeps me pondering long after I’ve put it down.
I’ve had far more male friends than female friends in my life.
I thought about my friendships in general, about how I was able to keep my heart wide open, how I was able to turn the other cheek and expect good things as a non-Christian child, yet watched my heart increasingly close as a Christian adult.
We Christians often think that our children’s hearts are in danger of being corrupted, wooed, enticed away from God by the world, but I think it’s much more likely that they will be pushed, shoved away from Him by members of His church.
Waiting for the dryer to dry I jot down that thought.
I love writing that inspires a thought, even a post.
It’s what God called “worthwhile, not worthless words.”
It’s what I hope to someday write.
Good job, Ann.