bread & wine, part I: the book and the table

I was introduced to Shauna Niequist, or rather her writing, when a friend recommended Cold Tangerines to me in college. I began reading, and being the sucker I am for a good memoir, I was instantly hooked. I discovered Bittersweet  two years later and devoured it. Getting lost in the stories about her life, the truth she learned about herself and God, all the while reveling in how wonderfully she intertwined the two together on such a relatable level.

As you know, I love writing and I love reading great writers. After reading her first two books, Shauna skyrocketed to the top spot on my list of favorite authors. Someone I looked up to, someone who’s writing I would love to emulate one day, someone I felt like I had a true connection with even though we had never met.

Then, I heard about Bread & WineAnd I could barely contain myself. I began a mental countdown this spring, frantically checking her blog to see when the book would be released. And the second it was, I instantly gave all our money to Amazon and bought eight copies- one for my mother, one for my mother-in-law, one for my four best friends, one for my sister-in-law, and one for myself… obviously. Taylor thought I had completely lost it. Who buys eight copies of the same book? he asked. This girl. 

Sometimes, there are those things in life that tug at your heart in ways you can’t explain. For me, Shauna’s writing is one of those things. It’s creative, honest, loving and challenging, gut-wrenching and hopeful. More than anything, it’s real. It’s about real life, real people, real food, real stories, real struggles, real victories and a very real God. That’s what made me fall in love with her writing in Cold Tangerines, and the writing in Bread & Wine is no different.

This book is everything you hope and long for it to be. Shauna writes so candidly about her experiences- on multiple occasions I cried and laughed out loud on the same page. She tells stories about the table, and the relationships that have been built and strengthened around it. She talks about food as more than something that physically nourishes, but something that can nourish our soul as well if we give it the opportunity. She encourages all of us to come to the table, to let people into the mess, to slow down and engage fully in the real life, the real faces, the tangible smells and tastes that are happening right in front of you. And it’s so beautiful. Even as I’m writing this, my heart is bursting with joy about this book. I can’t get over how gorgeous and truth-filled it is.

As if that weren’t enough, the recipes she includes are absolutely fantastic. Breakfast cookies and goat cheese scrambled eggs have become morning staples. A spicy tomatillo version of the White Chicken Chili was perfect for a crisp spring day in Austin, and a giant bowl of the Green Well Salad hit the spot at my mother-in-law’s house for a Mother’s Day dinner.

About a month ago, Taylor and I invited our friends Kelly and John over for dinner. They had gotten married two weeks before, and Taylor and I three months before. We were so excited to have friends over to our apartment, and I- currently in the middle of Bread & Wine– had dreamed about the menu all week. It was getting warmer, and I was aching for summer. So naturally, I decided the menu would be Mar-a-Lago Turkey Burgers, Watermelon Feta Salad, Sweet Potato Fries and a Blueberry-Peach Crisp with Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla ice cream for dessert. John and Kelly brought ingredients for strawberry daiquiris, so we blended and grilled and tossed while both couples tried to contain their excitement. You see, Taylor’s parents and Kelly’s parents became friends while their children were young. They’ve raised their kids together, gone on vacations together and spent countless hours around a table. As a result, the Coulter’s and the Bixby’s really are like a family. Taylor and Kelly’s brother, Josh, are like brothers. Kelly and Taylor’s sister, Lindsay, like sisters. The two families could fill hours with stories about life they’ve experienced together. And that night as we sat down at the table, the realization sunk in that what we were experiencing was a tribute to the generation above us. Their willingness to welcome people in and know their stories was pivotal to us sitting down at the table together that night. They taught us what it looks like to live life in community, and we now have the opportunity to cultivate relationships with each other in the same way our parents did- what an incredible gift that is.

And so we ate and talked and laughed. We told funny stories and asked serious questions and lingered around the table. At one point John, who is an artist and wonderfully unique soul, after taking a bite of his turkey burger exclaimed,

This literally tastes like it’s from the banquet table in heaven!

And in a way, it was. The food was good. The Settlers of Catan game we embarked on after dinner was entertaining. But that night was a little taste of what we’ll get to do with John and Kelly for all eternity. We get to celebrate God’s goodness and his saving grace in our lives together in heaven, at a feast, forever.

And that is why I love Bread & Wine so much. It reveals how sacred even the most simple things in life are. It implores us to slow down, lest we miss how delicious life can taste.

You can find Bread & Wine at AmazonBarnes & Noble or ChristianBook.com. I highly recommend picking up a copy (or eight). 

why i write

One Saturday about three weeks ago, my husband Taylor and I had a day off together. It was one of those gorgeous spring days in Austin- 80 degrees, not a cloud in the sky- and  my unsatisfiable itch to be outside was going crazy.

My mind was also going crazy.

See, the night before my friend Amy and I had a pretty truth-filled, mind-shattering, lies- exposing conversation. The “hard, but good” conversation. You know… the kind where your best friend is looking you in the eye, not holding back punches, telling you what you need to hear and it’s all at once the most refreshing and freeing and acutely painful thing. If you’re anything like me, your brain stops working in the middle of the conversation. Not that you stop listening, not that you’re putting up walls, but you just. can’t. handle. any. more. Thoughts and feelings and beliefs are pouring in, yet my ability to pour them back out has ceased. My ability to process completely goes out the window, I feel like I’m drowning in my own thoughts, and I’m stuck. Here’s the thing- I’m a deep thinker, extremely introspective and as a result, I typically process slower. So at this point, the point where my brain is on overdrive, the point when my thoughts are beginning to swirl and resemble a very large, nasty-looking hurricane cloud, I have only one choice. I must find my way to the eye of the hurricane. To the place of rest, peace and quiet- if only for a few moments.

For me, that place is writing. 

So on that Saturday, I wrote. I sat outside and played frisbee with Taylor. We ate lunch in the park and laid in our hammock and soaked up as much sunshine as possible. We read books, and I wrote.

That's me, on that Saturday, in my happy place.
That’s me, on that Saturday, in my happy place.

Almost instantly, I could feel the storm easing up- after having its way in my mind for 24 hours. There were still remnants of course- some ideas where shifted around, some trees I thought were solid knocked over. There was still wreckage to clean up, feelings leftover that I wasn’t sure what to do with, but I was at peace. And the anxiety, the restlessness, the shame I had been fighting against the night before all washed away with the storm.

Later that evening, as Taylor and I were debriefing our day, I was sharing with him all that I had written earlier-  the fears, the feelings, the confessions, the lies, the truth. After  I finished talking, he said,

When you write for a while, I can tell. There’s something different about you…it’s like there’s more to you than there was even a few hours ago.

And that, in a very profound, succinct nutshell, describes my relationship with writing.

I have to go pretty far back in my 24-year-old memory to remember a time when writing wasn’t a substantial part of my life. My first memories of writing my thoughts down was in middle school. I was far from consistent. I would write for a few days, fill a few pages, and then get bored with it. There were more exciting things going on like basketball practice, or family beach trips, playing in the pool or arguing with my brother and sister. Then, high school hit and writing became a chore. Essays, book reports, annotations. While I devoured any book I could get my hands on growing up- namely Nancy Drew mysteries- it took discipline to finish books in high school, much less analyze them and produce 3-5 page, single-spaced essays.

Then for some reason that I can’t really put my finger on, I picked up a spiral notebook in college and started journalling. It started as an outlet. As a way to get my thoughts and feelings on paper. I was growing in my relationship with Jesus like never before, and it became a way to process through scripture.

And soon, it became a LIFELINE- absolutely necessary to my well-being, to my sanity, to my growth spiritually, emotionally and mentally.

It became where I would run when I felt the world crashing in on me. It became a way the Holy Spirit moved in my heart. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started writing about one particular thought, and landed about 34,897 miles away on a completely different idea. As I read back through what I wrote, it’s evident how the Holy Spirit brought to mind thoughts, verses, and experiences that led me to where he wanted me to be. Each time spent writing, I would walk away knowing God a little more deeply, and as a result knowing myself a little more deeply as well. My journals- I’ve written through 19 in seven years- are the truest form of myself. They are raw and uncensored, and the most accurate picture of my story. Specifically, they are the most honest depiction of my relationship with Jesus, and the seasons of life he has brought me through.

I wasn't kidding. If you look closely, I bet you'll figure out my favorite style of journal. (Hint: Moleskine)
I wasn’t kidding. If you look closely, I bet you’ll figure out my favorite style of journal. (Hint: Moleskine)

More often than not, I’ll finish a journal and start a new one at exactly the appropriate time; when one chapter of life is ending, and another is beginning. If anything, that is proof to me that the Lord’s timing is perfect, that he’s completely in control of my story.. and also that he has a sense of humor. Sometimes, the transition from one journal to the next is easy. Sometimes, it’s painful. I don’t want the chapter I’m living in to end. I don’t want to move on. I’m hurt, or angry or confused with the Lord and I don’t want to go to him. I don’t want to process through anything with him. When I’m angry, when I’m hurt to the depth that words can’t describe, I push him away and the dates between two journals have more space between them. But then, there are those transitions that are hopeful. With a new journal comes new days, new life, a breath of fresh air, blank pages with stories just waiting to fill them. Regardless, how much I’m writing, what I’m writing is the most accurate gauge for me on my relationship with Jesus. I might not know all the answers, I might not know every verse in the Bible, but I am being gut-wrenchingly honest with my Savior.. and I believe with all my heart that that counts for something.

Every once in a while, I’ll read back through old journals. It will make me laugh, bring me a profound sense of thankfulness and remind me of pain so vivid it brings me to tears all over again. But most of all, it gives me faith that God knows what he’s doing with my life, with all of our lives. He is an incredible author, and a wonderful storyteller. And that is what motivates me to write. I write to find a place of peace, rest and truth with my Savior in the midst of a chaotic world.

I write to remember the faithfulness of God.

I hope this little piece of my world helps you remember too.

I’d like to know.. What helps you remember the faithfulness of God? What is the thing you turn to that helps you process? How do you find peace and rest in the midst of chaos?