Happy 70th Anniversary, Baker Book House!

http://www.mlive.com/business/west-michigan/index.ssf/2009/08/baker_book_house_opened_70_yea.html

After reading the article in the Sunday, August 2 edition of the GR Press, I spent some time reflecting on my relationship with Baker Book House over the years. I can’t remember a time before Baker, and I have to say that my life would not be the same without it. God has used this company, these people, to mold me into who I am today. Let me explain…

The bookstore on East Paris Ave. opened when I was just 6 years old. My family attended East Paris CRC, less than a mile south of the bookstore. When I turned 10 in June 1984, a pastor friend gave me a crisp ten-dollar bill as a gift. “One dollar for every year,” he said. I couldn’t wait to spend that money, so Mom took me to Baker. I bought an NIV award Bible for $5 and had my name engraved on it. I also bought a book by Patricia St. John titled The Tanglewoods Secret. I devoured the book, and the Lord used the story to convict me of my own sinfulness and need of a Savior. I began reading my Bible for myself, and on August 16, 1984, I asked Christ into my heart.

One of my best childhood memories is going to shop at Baker with my mom. She always thought it would be fun to work there, although she said she’d probably spend her entire paycheck on cards and books and music. Well, she was right on both accounts. I began working as a sales clerk at the store in May 1995, and it was a lot of fun. And I did spend a good portion of my weekly paycheck on books and music!

On my first day at the store, the manager took me around to meet my coworkers. She introduced me to a nice guy named Sean Nemecek. I remember thinking, “He’s kinda cute,” but one of the other clerks made sure I knew he was taken. So much for that. Still, Sean and I became good friends. We had many good conversations over theology while on break together. And we always had a lot of fun joking around with Lanny, Arlene, Jean, Karen, Pat, Greg, Bob, Nadine, Nancy, and Donna. Even after Sean became “available,” we continued to be “just friends.” That is, until I returned from a trip overseas in summer of 1996. We began dating that fall became engaged on February 14, 1997. Our first stop after he asked me to marry him? Baker, of course. We shared that special day with our friends, and we picked out our wedding invitations. We were married on July 25, 1997, with most of the bookstore staff in attendance.

Sean continued to work at the bookstore, but I began working in the editorial department at the publishing house in Ada. I was hired in as an assistant to then editorial directors Paul Engle (trade books) and Jim Weaver (academic books). Within just a few weeks I knew that I wanted to work in Christian publishing for the rest of my life. Within a year I became an assistant editor in the academic division. After the birth of our son in Benjamin on July 10, 2001 (yep, he shares a birthday with president Dwight Baker and theological great John Calvin), I became a stay-at-home mom. But I have continued to do freelance proofreading and editing almost exclusively for Baker.

One of our first trips “out” after Ben was born was to meet our friends at the bookstore. This photo shows Sean proudly posing with Ben in the theology section, right next to a copy of Calvin's Institutes.

So my life has been strangely, providentially entwined with this one company. I’m so thankful for Baker Book House and how God has used them to shape who I am as His child. Happy Anniversary, Baker Book House! May He bless you richly in years to come so that many more lives will be impacted for His kingdom.

"Essential" Reading

I’m often pleasantly surprised by what I find on the shelves at our little community library. Such was the case when I walked in last week. I was not intending to check out another book…if you could see the stacks of books all over my house waiting to be read, you’d understand why. But as a word-aholic, I can’t help looking over the newly arrived titles. Inevitably I find something that piques my interest.

The copper-colored spine is what first caught my eye. So shiny, I just had to pick it up. The title intrigued me: The School of Essential Ingredients by Erica Bauermeister (Putnam, 2009). I read the author bio on the jacket flap. Hmm…a first novel. That knowledge always fills me with dubious curiosity. I had a project on my desk needing to be finished, and I really didn’t have time for a pleasure read. But I took a chance and checked it out.

I was not disappointed. The book is actually nine stories, intricately woven into one body. Reading them was like reconnecting with old friends. While Lillian -- master chef and teacher of “The School of Essential Ingredients” -- is the main character and her story ties all the personalities together, none of the other stories is either more or less important in the overall scheme. An older couple who have weathered the storms of life together for so many years, they can’t imagine being apart, even in the face of some hard realities. A young mother whose identity has become so tied to her children and husband that she doesn’t know who she is anymore. An elderly woman whose increasing dementia terrifies her. A lonely widower. A drop-dead gorgeous foreigner. A shy bachelor. A mixed-up teenager trying to get her life back on track.

While each character has his or her own reason for attending “The School of Essential Ingredients,” by the last page their nine separate lives have become inseparable. It’s a recipe for family. And even though it’s not a “Christian” novel, it is a beautiful picture of the way Christ wants his church to function. I’ve seen my own church family bond together through small groups (or cell groups or community groups, whatever you want to call them). Lillian’s “School of Essential Ingredients” is at its core a small group, and it is a beautiful thing. Whether or not you have a passion for fine food, I recommend feasting on this book. It’s about so much more than cooking. Bon appétit!

Caring About Fictional Characters

It’s Monday afternoon, and we just got home from running a bunch of errands. (Okay, so I wrote this a week ago...it is now the next Monday a.m. and I'm still in my p.j.'s.) I’m in my recliner sipping a latte and trying to clear my head of the constant stream of words that has emanated from Ben’s mouth since 8 a.m.

Since I have a few minutes to myself, I thought I’d write a little something for my blog. I haven’t written much of anything since the death of my father six months ago. But I have done a lot of reading. And I do mean a lot. And not all of it for money.

While browsing a Traverse City bookstore last month, I came across a table of staff recommendations. Two of the titles grabbed my attention, so I promptly logged on to MELCat and put through a request for them. When they arrived a starting bell went off in my head, and I couldn’t put either book down until I knew how they ended.

The first title is Those Who Save Us by Jenna Blum (Harcourt, 2004). The author worked for four years interviewing holocaust survivors with Steven Spielberg’s Shoah Foundation. This, her first novel, chronicles the lengths one woman goes to in order to protect her young daughter during the German occupation of Austria. Before I go on, however, I need to give a disclaimer: this book is sexually graphic. The protagonist, Anna, becomes the mistress of a high-ranking SS officer in charge of the Buchenwald concentration camp. Blum leaves little to the imagination with regard to the man’s animal lusts and abusive treatment.

The story really centers around Anna’s daughter, Trudy, a history professor specializing in German studies. As part of a research project, she interviews German civilians who had been citizens of the Third Reich. Since her own mother refuses to talk about the war years, Trudy attempts to uncover answers to her questions from those who, like her mother, were non-Jews living under Hitler’s regime. What she finds about her mother surprises her. And while the reader, who has been following Anna’s trail all along, knows how her story ends, I still couldn’t put the book down until I knew how Trudy is affected by that knowledge.

The second, and to me more powerful, of the two books is People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks (Viking, 2008). Several years ago Brooks won the Pulitzer Prize for March, her version of Little Women from the perspective of Captain March. People of the Book follows the journey of an ancient Jewish illuminated manuscript back through time. She chronicles how it was preserved through history as one person after another risked their life to protect the precious pages from extinction.

I don’t want to give much away as far as the plot. Much of it is based in actual events surrounding the discovery of the Sarajevo Haggadah. The character that ties everything together is a young woman named Hanna. She is an expert in preserving rare books. As Hanna prepares the haggadah for museum display, she uncovers the story of the manuscript. And she discovers her own story as an intersecting parallel. (I know…that phrase is an oxymoron. Just read it for yourself and you’ll see what I mean.)

If you know me at all, you know that I’m a sucker for stories of mother/daughter relationships. Both of these stories are driven by the bonds (or lack thereof) between mothers and daughters. Neither has a “happily ever after” conclusion. Neither is a “feel good” kind of read. The issues these authors deal with are weighty, and I guarantee you’ll think about them long after you’ve turned the final page. But the stories they share are worth reading, worth remembering, so that we never forget.

Something Better...

My biggest fear in life was to die of cancer. When at age 29 I found a lump in my right breast, I hoped it was nothing. Everyone kept trying to encourage me that it was nothing. Young women aren’t supposed to get breast cancer, are they? But the lump got bigger, and all the tests and biopsies showed advanced-stage cancer. So shortly after my thirtieth birthday I was in the hospital for major surgery. I spent the next year going through chemotherapy, radiation, and even more surgery.

Cancer was no stranger to me. My mother died of cancer when I was 19. During her illness and after her death, I spent a lot of my time and energy being angry with God. I thought that if God really cared about me and loved me as much as I had been taught from a young age, then he wouldn’t take my mom away from me. He knew how much I was going to need her over the years, and at times I even felt like God was mocking me, as if to say “You can’t have it.”

Looking back, I now understand that losing my mother was not the worst thing that could happen to me. Honestly, being without her forced me to grow up, to think for myself, to discover what I really believe about things. I discovered that my childhood had prepared me for her death, and her death prepared me for what I would go through later in my life. I concluded that the God I had known since I was 10 is indeed a good God. Contrary to what my feelings sometimes tell me, he has filled my life with good things: a loving husband, a beautiful son, a career I love, and friends who stand with me even in the tough times.

As I was going through cancer treatments, I discovered a verse in one of the Psalms that whispered, “Be at rest, Amy, for God has been good to you.” Trusting that he had something even better planned for my life, I felt at ease even when I wasn’t sure I’d ever be well again. I came to realize that when my mother was sick I was asking the wrong question. Then I kept questioning, “Why is this happening to me?” Now I have learned to look past the why and ask, “What better thing waits for me?”

So far life hasn’t turned out like I imagined it would. According to my plans, I would have had more children. Because of my illness, I have an only child, and I treasure him more than a dozen children. If I’d had things my way, I would have had my own mother just a phone call away to share all of life’s “Kodak moments.” Instead, I have several “moms” who care for me and share special times with my family. In spite of all the hard times (or maybe because of them) life is turning out better than I could ever have planned it myself.

I’m so thankful that I am again in good health and can enjoy living life with Sean and watching Ben grow up. At the same time, I know that can change at any moment. If it does, I won’t be afraid. I’m certain, without any doubt, that something even better is in store for me.

(Note: Several weeks ago I had to write my own story as part of an assignment for the small group I'm part of. This piece is the result of that exercise. After receiving feedback from my group, I thought I'd post it here for any further comments or suggestions.)

Providential Reading

As I mentioned in a previous post, for every three new books that I read, I try to read one classic (i.e., “old book”). I don’t hold to this as a fast rule, just a general guideline. But seeing as it had been some time since I’d read one of the classics of English literature (and I had definitely read more than three newbies), I decided to select something from my “books I wish I’d read in college but never had the time” shelf. My choice: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte.

The copy of Jane Eyre that I own is over fifty years old. There’s nothing special about the edition itself, but it belonged to my mom, a gift on her 23rd birthday from her closest college friend. That makes it special to me. The end paper bears the inscription: “Happy Birthday, Julie! From Lannie, May 1, 1953.” I’m not sure whether Mom ever read the book. Lannie married my dad after mom died, and I know that it was her favorite story. I cherish it in memory of both of them.

With so many novels of the Victorian period, I feel like my eyes get bogged down in words. While Charlotte Bronte spends a lot of words describing things for the reader, not one of them is wasted. She paints with words the way her title character paints with watercolors. More than once her words conjured memories of the places I visited while in England, especially the downs at Dunstable. Friends took us there one evening to watch the sunset, and it’s a scene I’ll never forget.

The other thing I love about Jane Eyre is that Jane is the picture of contentment in the different seasons of life, something I desperately need to learn. So often I feel like I should be doing more, working more, writing more; and then I am reminded that this is a season of life that will all too soon be past. As Jane is teaching young girls in a small country school, a friend asks her, “What will you do with your accomplishments? What, with the largest portion of your mind—sentiments—tastes?” I love Jane's reply:

“Save them till they are wanted. They will keep.”

I want to have that attitude. Sean and I have chosen to homeschool Ben. Preparing and teaching his lessons takes a huge chunk of my life right now. Some days I think of how I could be writing or working or doing any number of things to further my career or for my own enjoyment. Now when I feel that rising discontent I can remind myself that these things will keep until Ben is grown and I enter a new season of life.

As I turned the last page, I asked myself one question: Why have I never read this book before? Perhaps a book patiently waits for when the reader is ready to digest what it has to teach. I know that if I had read Jane Eyre at any other time of my life, it would not have made such an impact. It still would have been a great classic of English literature, but it would not have packed the moral punch in my life. More than ever I’m convinced that God’s hand of providence guides my life, right down to the details of what I read and when.

Amazing Grace

When I visited England in the summer of 1996, I had the privilege of visiting the Parish Church of Sts. Peter and Paul in Olney, Buckinghamshire. This is the first church that John Newton served as pastor. He spent seventeen years at Olney, during which time he wrote a collection of hymns, the most famous of which is “Amazing Grace.” One of my favorite England memories is standing at the communion rail of the Olney church and singing “Amazing Grace” in four-part harmony with my friends.

Several years ago I read Out of the Depths, a biography of John Newton that includes a reprint of his own Authentic Narrative. Having grown up hearing the story of the slave trader turned preacher, I’m thankful I took the time to read it for myself, especially Newton’s own words.

Earlier this year Sean surprised me with a new biography of Newton written by Jonathan Aitken. John Newton: From Disgrace to Amazing Grace (Crossway, 2007) is the most detailed account of Newton’s life that you’ll ever read. Drawing from Newton’s published writings as well as his unpublished journals and papers, Aitken traces one soul’s attempt to flee a God who was hot on his heels.

Newton, by his own admission, was a most despicable character in the beginning. And even after he cried out to God for mercy in the middle of a north Atlantic gale, it was a long journey from the decks of a slave ship to the pulpit of a church and the halls of British Parliament. There he gave a detailed account of his experience in the slave trade. His graphic testimony of the horrors he witnessed and took part in aided his friend William Wilberforce in abolishing the British slave trade.

Aitken gives an accurate and moving account of Newton’s struggle toward conversion and his passionate life of faith thereafter. He writes with genuine understanding, offering a real look at one of God’s works in progress. I look forward to one day meeting the finished product when my own course is run. When that day comes, I hope my attitude will echo Newton’s dying words: “My memory is nearly gone, but I remember two things: That I am a great sinner and that Christ is a great Savior.” Perhaps what made this biography so special for me was that visit to Olney all those years ago. I commented to Sean that I wish I’d done more reading about Newton before I went there…I just had no idea. No matter. One day I hope to go back to Olney with my family and enjoy the peace of that place. When I do I’ll pay another visit to the monument that marks John & Mary Newton’s final resting place. There I’ll offer thanksgiving to God for the grace he has shown in their lives and in mine.

The Wordless Word?

Ben was supposed to be doing his Bible lesson for the day on Wednesday, but he was really putting up a fight. After my repeated attempts to encourage him in reading the lesson and looking up the verses in his Bible, he threw up his hands and said in an exasperated voice, “Why do I have to read this anyway? Why can’t we just use the Wordless Book? It would be so much easier!”

For those readers not familiar with the “Wordless Book,” it is a device used to share the Christian gospel. It’s a small booklet having no words or pictures, simply made up of different colored pages--black, red, white, green, gold. Each color represents a different idea: black=sin, red=blood of Jesus, white=righteousness. You get the general idea.

In light of Ben’s query I was prepared to rant about how silly the whole concept of a “wordless” book is. I took him to John 1:1—“In the beginning was the Word.” God places so much importance on words that he nicknames his own son “the Word.” He chooses to communicate with mankind through the 66 books that comprise his written word. How, then, could we suggest being able to know him apart from words?

Then I read a brief history of the Wordless Book concept (you can check it out at http://www.geocities.com/ceffreestate/book.htm). When I discovered that two of my great heroes of faith—Charles Spurgeon and Amy Carmichael—employed this tool in their ministry, I figured I should rethink the whole idea. After all, God can choose to reveal himself in whatever way pleases him. Words on a page mean nothing to someone who does not know how to read them. Our great God makes provision for all people and can use something as simple as colored pages to draw them to himself.

Still, I sometimes wonder how many of us who already know the Bible’s message might prefer the ease of a wordless book. Colors, pictures even, but not words that we have to read and wrestle with each day. Hate to disappoint you, Ben, but you still have to study your Bible lessons. No wordless books in this home school. And I hope that as you continue to learn its story you will look forward to the wrestling as an opportunity to grow in grace.