“A thought-provoking and courageous new novel by National Book Award winner Han Nolan. Nobody gets away with telling Eleanor Crowe what to do. But as a pregnant sixteen year-old, her options are limited: move to Kenya with her missionary parents or marry the baby’s father and work at his family’s summer camp for overweight kids. Despite her initial reluctance to help out, Elly is surprised that she actually enjoys working with the campers. But a tragedy on the very day her baby is born starts a series of events that overwhelms Elly with unexpected emotions and difficult choices. Somehow, she must turn her usual obstinance in a direction that can ensure a future for herself—and for the new life she has created.” -Summary from Goodreads

Dear Han,

I haven’t had a book touch my heart like this in a really long time. I could not put it down, had to force myself to at 2am, and I finished it this morning while bawling my eyes out. My 3.5 yr old son was highly concerned. I let him know that the book wasn’t bad, but just that good.

Your characters are so rich and Elly, well she just…. I have no words really. Just amazing.

I gave your book 5 stars on Goodreads and have decided to use it as my book club selection for the month of June.

I’m sure the emotional link is that I’m adopted, and the love she (Eleanor) shows to Emma Rose, I hope my birth mother had that sort of love for me. Almost 32 years later and I still sometimes feel abandoned, but it’s books like these that make me think otherwise. While I got pregnant before I was married at 20, my situation was less than ideal, but nowhere near the craziness of Elly, and yet the parental influence was very true to my situation and proved to me that just because they are your parents, doesn’t mean the ideas they suggest are “the right thing to do”.

Best ending.. ever!

Just wanted to drop you a line and let you know that your writing.. it matters.. Thanks for doing it.

Over twelve months of waiting and praying, crying and anger at not being on the same page as my husband when it came to adding another baby to our wonderful family of five.

Twelve more months of being on the same page.

Twelve months of waiting and praying, crying and anger that finally turned into depression and indifference.

The internet and church, lands of pregnancy and newborn baby minefields, waiting to ambush me and break off another piece of my already weakened heart.

Happiness for friends.

A walled up heart.

Blessed to have my three healthy babies, who are no longer babies.

Trying to come to grips with God’s timing.

Not my timing.

My picture of a complete family may never be realized.

My soul aching to have this month be the end to my waiting and next month be the beginning of someone fresh and new.

But it’s His timing.

It’s been a year of trying.

A year of hoping and praying before that.

A lifetime of yearning.

Number four.

One day.

Soon.

Please?

Sometimes I get caught up in taking on too many projects.

I want everything to be perfection.

Juggling so many things, one or two, maybe even three are bound to fall to the earth and shatter.

I’m forgetful.

I’m overwhelmed.

I’m tired.

I’m scared.

I’m numb.

I think that last one is the worst of all.

The lack of feeling, that spark of motivation you need to get things done, accomplished. That spark that makes living a joy.

My pilot light…..

Hot and strong one moment, bright with blue light, pure happiness. I’m proud of what I’m doing and getting done. I’m proud of who I am.

But it flickers…..

It fades to nothing.

The flashing cursor at the top of a pristine white page, so much potential and preconceived notions of not being great enough force my fingers to bring that little white arrow to the bright red box and banish my failure from my sight.

So much yarn, the time drain of crocheting, sore wrists and cramped fingers.

The house that never stays clean.

The children trapped inside, day after day of rain until we all just want to tear our hair out. Grumbling in the ranks, fights breaking out on a constant basis and temper tantrums from a 30 year old woman (sigh), soon to be 31 (double sigh).

The countdown of summer.

21 days to go.

It signals freedom.

Or maybe it signals laziness.

I’m not sure.

I just wish my fire would burn brighter and stay lit.

The flickering is hard.

The numbness that crowds out the life I want to live, the happy I want to have.

It’s lonely.

Yes, I want that fire.

Every day.

Is that too much to ask?

A loud boom of thunder shook the house at it’s foundation, jerking me from an adventure now outside of reality, blurred at the edges. Hard to recall.

No power.

The children filed into the room, smallest to largest with battery operated princess and Tinkerbell candles to guide their way.

Alex now snuggled up into my curves, warm with fever and sucking furiously on his binky. Katie infiltrating a space between Brian and I, laying her head on my side while Brianna took to the end of the bed.

They chattered about the thunder waking them from their dreams and asked if there would be school in the morning, disappointed when our answer was yes.

It was eerily quiet, the thunder and lightening had vanished leaving the rain softly rapping on the window.

The girls were sent back to bed to cuddle with each other after the promise of us waking them if the weather turned more serious. Alex was given a dose of medicine to reduce his fever and more snuggle time with me.

We all burrowed deep under the covers to find sleep once more.

Yet it evaded my grasp, slow night terrors crept in trying to gain entrance to my thoughts, the unique rush of ethereal sound to my ears, my heart and breath seized as I fervently prayed to be released from it’s grip.

One.

Two.

Three assaults.

The adventurous dream of before slowly came back into focus.

Freedom.