Saturday, July 28, 2018

On Being A Foster Parent

One month ago Scott and I received a call that has quite literally removed all the ceiling, floors, walls and edges that make up the life we have created for ourselves. Two hours after that call we received our first foster placement, an adorable 7 month old baby. Yes you guys, A BABY. 

One year ago when we called the foster agency we had said we were interested in fostering ONE child, under FIVE. The reply was quick and swift: "That doesn't ever happen. It is always at least a sibling set and there are no babies" 

So Scott and I talked and realized we were in fact open to a sibling set. Our apartment might be small but it would work. It's quaint and tiny but I'd like to think it's big on warmth, safety and cozy love. We also decided we would take elementary aged kiddos. I didn't know what to imagine or what my life would look like once we suddenly had a child but I can tell you now I was imagining two siblings, maybe 4 years old and a 7 year old. (something like that)

I DID NOT exactly see us receiving a baby because we were told this isn't how the foster system works. Scott and I have never been parents and the shock of becoming ones so quickly was quite startling. Suddenly I was thrown into the world of baby gear, baby food, sleep schedules, diapers, and teething. I didn't grow with this baby. She was just suddenly here, living in our home, depending on us, US to be a place of refuge, sustenance, nurturance and I quickly felt incompetent to meet all of her screeching and screaming needs. 

I went to a grounding yoga class in Portland and it taught me something. The instructor had us get into different positions and inversions and if something didn’t feel quite right she suggested that we first look inward and adjust. Meaning we could practice deep breathing, maybe move our limbs in a way to reduce the stress, perhaps soften our face muscles. She said if that wasn’t enough there was no shame in looking outside of ourselves for external resources. Maybe we needed a block to prop ourself on, maybe we needed a blanket to lay our head on, maybe we needed a bolster for under our knees. 

Ever since this class I keep looking inward at my internal resources as a foster parent and realizing (ever so quickly) that I have to look outside of myself. This isn't the time for me to lean on self-sufficiency. It isn't the time to cling tightly to my pride of wanting to be independent. From the trenches and chaos of parenthood THIS IS THE TIME to reach out. 

Here’s the truth: I am not enough for baby girl. I don’t mean this in a self deprecating, low self-esteem way. I mean I cannot save her or heal her of all her trauma. This reality is devastating to me. I don’t have enough internal resources for her because I am human and unfortunately not superwoman. But here’s what I’m leaning into: I can ALWAYS reach beyond myself to outside resources. I have emptied myself again and again and so has Scott. I have poured every last drop of myself. I have felt desperate knowing I simply don’t have more left in me. I have come to the end of myself and this is where I meet my own ability to expand. My ability to ask boldly for help from friends, from family, from our church, from our neighborhood, from our social workers and medical and mental health professionals. (And yes my massage therapist).

Scott and I have had the longest meal train in history I believe. All our friends brought homemade dishes, macaroni and cheese, roast chicken, lasagna, turkey burgers, pasta bolognese, salads. They brought us Tender Greens,  Inn and Out Burger and Chipotle as well as bearing gifts of diapers and clothes for baby girl. They brought lots of cold brew and took Leonard on walks. Our mail box was jam packed full of books and toys and onesies from our family out of state. Our church offered to watch Heaven at night so we could get some sleep. Our friends offered to watch her so we could have a date, shower, get a massage, or do some errands. Family sent us gift cards that floated us for weeks. Our people DID OUR DISHES. This is the top of what is most vulnerable for me (cleaning our house but specifically dirty gross dishes). Sometimes people came over so Scott could see his physical therapist or so we could go to work (getting a baby suddenly also makes getting into daycare extremely hard. Those wait lists are no joke!). Our team sat with us in the dark of unknowing, held on to hope for us when we just felt like we couldn't, ushered in optimism with tangible acts of service. Sometimes they sent me nail-polish and a face mask because they knew how desperate I was for something to pamper me in my sleep deprivation state. 

Our experience has reminded me of the passages in Acts 2&4 where possessions, property, meals and generosity were shared. At the end of chapter 2 it talks about how the "Lord added to their fellowship those who were being saved" And let me tell you; these acts did SAVE ME. They saved me again and again. There were nights (probably around 2am, 3am and 4am) where I did feel lonely, depleted, and isolated but the morning came bursting through with fresh strength. Our friends gave their time, their energy, their love, their mad baby skills and cooking skills to Scott, Leonard and I. Their sharing and generosity really did save us. 

Maybe you need to hear this today too. When you come to the end of yourself it is not the end. If you haven't found the inner resources you need look, outside yourself. Ask for help.  Here is a new beginning of expansion. It is the hardest and the most brutal/beautiful polarization. And you can get there because of your people. We aren’t meant to live in isolation. We are wired to seek what is bigger and stronger outside of us. I hold to our little village that surrounds us every step of the way. I hold onto sunrises and new beginnings and the sounds of Leonard’s deep peaceful breathing, the sound of waves, the taste of ice cream and the belief that a Mother God gives us other people to be and to hold hope for us when we can’t find it within ourselves.

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

How I Begin Again And Why Wet Dogs Don't Care

I recently finished a book called "Begin Again"by Leeana Tankersley. I always love when I get my hands on her newest book. I come away with lots of little treasures and gems that I tuck gently into my heart. I like her books because they invite you to actually experience what you’re reading. They call you to expand, to get out and tangibly perceive the themes and messages of the book. Her most recent book is all about how to begin again in all the mess and upheaval and uncertainty that is our life at times. She quotes Saint Benedict, “Always we begin again” as a guide to light our way.

As a 5 on the enneagram I would be 110% happy to just read all the books and once finished, obsessively browse my Amazon wish list for my next book to read. I learn  so much from reading but at some point I have to move away from the words and pages.Honestly I really wish digesting and understanding and reading books would be enough to live life fully, but in order to really experience your life you have to go and engage it.

In chapter 20 Leeana writes about rituals of rest. She writes about recovery and restoration and what it means to pursue these things as a practice.

So Leeana told me (in her book she told me but I pretend authors give me invitations face to face, I love a good assigment) to think of something that will help me return to myself.  I thought about this for a minute. What did it look like to come home to oneself? I hoped it meant me reading and journaling alone with a candle lit.

But I figured I should maybe do something besides reading.

After I thought about it I decided on a couple things that help me feel grounded, connected and centered: the beach, my dog and movement. Then it hit me! Yoga on dog beach! YES! Genius. Leonard wouldn’t have to be leashed and would be free to roam. I could already see myself doing my sun salutations with grace and tranquility. I saw Leonard laying on his towel next to me soaking up the sunny rays. I felt the fresh salty air fill my lungs. I saw Dark Horse Coffee placed gently on my towel. This was the exact zen, outdoor spa experience I needed and I was so excited.

The day of my plan I loaded up the car with Leonard, his leash, his towel, my beach towel, water and Leeanna’s book. I stopped first to get my cold brew at Dark Horse Coffee and then stopped at my favorite local bakery to get a chocolate raspberry scone. I was going to treat myself! After all this was my day to return to myself.

I’m sure you can already see where this is going but just so you don’t take me as a fool I totally had the foresight to walk Leonard before we found a nice patch of sand to nest in. I knew he would need to be “worn out” before I could create my zen sand garden.

I picked a nice sunny patch of sand far enough away from the water but close enough for a view. It was a random warm Wednesday morning. The beach looked calm and only a few people dotted the area. I set up my (our) towels side by side, pulled out my scone and began soaking up the space. The perfect 70 degree weather. The blue water, the stillness of the morning.

And then literally out of nowhere A PACK of dogs swarmed in my view.

The inevitable happened. The thing I somehow managed to oversee. Two HUGE dogs who were not just wet, but SOPPING WET; literally RACED  (calm jogged) over to my towels and immediately began sky diving themselves all over my stuff.  They rolled their wet hairy bodies all over our towels and all my belongings. I had to think quick because there was only so much time to strategize what to “save” and as you all know by now, it was the coffee I saved. The towels, my backpack, the book, iPhone, the leash and my water bottle ended up in a sandy wet heap. Leonard didn’t know what to think  about these huge dogs happily overtaking our nest and tried to stand on guard but ended up playing with them. #thanks

Nevertheless after this dog hurricane I was determined to get my yoga on. It was fine. This was dog beach after all. A little sand can’t hurt anyone I told myself. I proceeded to shake out the sandy towels. I set everything up again. Coffee. Water. Towel.

I proceeded get into child’s pose where the world felt both small and safe, warm and relaxed in my little cocoon as I began to focus on my breath, and the feeling of the earth beneath me.

But these dogs were not done yet. This time they ran over and again rolled their bodies all over the towels and also decided my yoga pants (that I AM WEARING) were a good towel as well and crashed into me as they shared all their seaweed, sand, salt water infested selves all over me.

This happened at least 3 times. Dogs racing over to me full of glee, catapulting their bodies all over me and all my belongings. Me shaking out the sand from the towels. Wiping sand out of my iphone and water bottle (and mouth). You would think I would have learned my lesson but I was beginning again you guys! I was returning to myself.

It was so bad that two owners on separate dog hurricane explosions came over to me and apologized and one of them even asked what he owed me for all the “damage”. I should have told him to order me some lulu lemon yoga pants asap because I’ve always wanted them and this was a great opportunity but I just said it was fine. #didnotnailit

Here’s the thing: this is really how life actually is. We might read about how to do something in a book or in a manual or even a recipe on Pinterest. Everything sounds wonderful. Just splendid indeed. But the actual working this out in our lives is not so smooth or serene or soft. Sometimes it is coarse and rocky and poky.

I’ve often wished there was a quick fix to healing, to pain, suffering. As a therapist I know how unlikely instantaneous emotional healing is. It isn’t magic and there’s no genie in a bottle waiting for us. I know there is a lot of blood, sweat and tears that go into our own soul growth. There’s also a lot of freedom, lightness and relief that comes from all this work as well.

Sometimes I think the lifeline God sends us is being able to begin again. Glennon Doyle Melton refers to God as “forever tries”. We never run out of trying again, beginning again, starting over. Today I’m grateful that I can shake the sand off my towel again. I can shake the anxiety off, the swirly thoughts, the shame, the guilt, and I can start again every second of every day breathing in new God energy, new oxygen, and a new sunrise.

P.S. Sometimes I begin again by ordering a new IPhone case because the sand that got stuck in there was irreparable. #whatcanyoudo

P.P.S. Sometimes beginning again is realizing what you need to let go of so that you can take hold of something new. As Leeana says, “Expansion is ruthlessly confronting what is not working so that what is truly alive can breathe. Expansion is truth-shall-set-me-free honesty. Expansion is wrestling, engaging, listening. It is letting the dead trees go.” (or the dead iphone cases)

Monday, March 12, 2018

When You Can't See The Clearing

Thick trees crowded out my view of beyond. They towered over me.  Unintentionally ominous. The pines blocked my ability to see around them. They surrounded me with their smell of of earth, wood, sap and a hint of cinnamon. I felt so small and vulnerable next to their strength. Almost swallowed up by their ability to take up so much space. Their roots expanded towards me and their branches reached above me leaving little room to ground myself. 

This past Christmas Scott and Leonard and I visited Tahoe (my first time!) It was beautiful! I was drawn in by all the blues of water and sky but the greens kept my interest for much longer.

I kept thinking about how this past fall was like a dark tunnel through a forest of huge looming trees. Recently Scott came home and said, “I can see it, there is actually a clearing in the trees”

I can’t fully articulate what it’s like to have a clearing in the middle of a dense forest after days and days and weeks and weeks and months of stumbling our way forward. The smallest of space, the smallest percentage of openness and good news makes all the difference.

This past fall, Scott and I found out his mom’s cancer was back. And it was back with vengeance, with tumors gaining more and more ground. Chemo was no longer a question, it was a statement and it was happening as soon as possible. My sister had a scary and sudden emergency surgery over Thanksgiving. Scott and I experience tight finances and not-so-flexible bills. I found out my best friend has a heart condition that is irreversible and puts her at risk. I have not figured out how to talk about this. I think I’ve been holding my breath ever since. Oh and did I mention how my mental health was not committing to stability at this time? I cannot tell you how many times I have re-written this paragraph and if comes across unfeeling or reporter(ish) it's because it's still scary to get down on paper. 

I find it’s extremely difficult to talk about the hard stuff, the dense forest when you are walking through it. I mean, it’s great if you get through it. That’s some positive vibes. Does anyone really want to hear about how mirky the in-between is? How anxiety provoking it all is?  It seems writing is much better looking back at a hard time or looking ahead, not in the middle though. Being present to it takes so much emotional energy.

So today I’m writing when I am not entirely through it but I have experienced a little clearing in the woods. I have exhaled a fraction. The clearing is giving me enough courage to actually write about it.

My mother-in-law gave me a book of poetry for Christmas and one poem has stuck with me all through the holidays, into the New Year and now into March as I keep walking among the trees of my life.

“If you stand at the edge of the forest, and stare into it, every tree at the edge will blow a little extra oxygen toward you. It has been proven. Leaves have admitted it. The pines I have known have been especially candid. One said that all breath in this world is roped together, that breathing is the most ancient language.” –Hannah Stephenson

This poem reminds me to breathe even when surrounded. I want to befriend these trees and not close my eyes to the present.

I spend my days encouraging my clients to sit with their feelings, hold their feelings and that there is another side to this pain.

But when I stare at my own scary, I want to do anything and everything but feel and be and hold. I will think and analyze and dissect and investigate but please and thank you don’t make me feel this. I will do and run and perform and think some more but giving these trees some real attention is risky. Will they grow even larger as I make eye contact?

I’m afraid the trees will swallow me up. They’re so tall and large and I’m so small and helpless next to them. I’m afraid I will become unhinged.

It’s so unfortunate that our culture has such an aversion to suffering, grief, anxiety and hard feelings. We all want to fix everything and quickly. None of this wait and see crap. We want results now! We all need lessons in distress tolerance.

For now I’m holding on to the relief of a clearing. I’m praying this crack of light can give me the courage to look at all the trees that surround me. And when courage inevitably decides to have an early retirement I will pray for the most ancient of languages, breathing through the in-betweens of life.

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Writing In The Making For 2018

This year after I completed 52 books in 52 weeks I contemplated what my next goal should be. Should it be 100 books? Should it be 52 acts of kindness? Maybe 52 self-care practices? You all had so many ideas! My list lover in me wants to create a whole slew of New Years resolutions and goals but I’ve found over the years that to have one or two main focuses is better and more sustainable.

This past year I experienced what I would call as writers block. It’s ironic because I started out 2017 with a memoir writing class but after that it was like I couldn’t find words to string into sentences. I couldn’t find phrases that meant anything or themes that followed any kind of path. I would think about writing in the car on the way to work or before I fell asleep. But I couldn’t put all my thoughts rolling around in my head onto paper.

So for this year I thought I would make a goal for myself of writing 25 blogs posts or essays. They don’t all have to published online. Some can just sit safely saved in my documents. I like the number 25 because it gets me into the habit of writing almost every other week for a whole year. If I have an “off” week or am out of town or super busy with work I don’t need to feel the pressure to bust out a writing piece.

Last night I did a hot yoga flow class at my local neighborhood studio. Yes, I said hot! It is finally cold enough to actually enjoy hot yoga. Yesterday it rained all day and it was so cozy and warm in the studio (and then less cozy and more sweaty). I then took a meditation class after with my friend. I’m finding that I can meditate or slow down a little bit better after some kind of movement. All the ruminative thoughts and over-analyzing seem to slow after a yoga flow class so I can focus on being more mindful.

Anyway the class discussed new years resolutions and we all visualized our goals and then created practical steps to make them happen. Pretty simple stuff really. I think it’s the actually following through thing that makes it hard.

Here are my writing goals for the year:

  • Write 25 blogs posts/essays by December 31, 2018
  • Must be at least 500 words (about a typed page worth)
  • Can be hand-written or typed on any subject
  • Can be published or unpublished

The hardest thing for me about this goal is letting my writing just be. I want it to be perfect before the practice. And writing is all about practice. I think that’s what stunted my writing growth last year. I started my own business in private practice and feeling more “out there” in the public eye had me feeling very self-conscious. Suddenly things like my reputation and other’s perceptions of me became very large and looming. Every time I sat down to write only a few words would squeak out. If I finally managed to write a paragraph I would edit it over and over, adding here and there, subtracting from this and that and then eventually never finish it or post it online. I leaned on lots of list making last year in my journal (which is one of my favorite things) and I think the structure of that gave me some security in my writing.

You all were so encouraging and kind this past year asking about my book challenge and cheering me on! I certainly didn’t post enough (any) book reviews but I’m happy to see I at least finished a blog post about it! After reading so many books last year and letting them all marinate within me for some time I am hopeful that I have some writing just waiting for me in this new year.

I’m curious to know what your goals, hopes or intentions are for the New Year? What are you holding on to and what are you letting go? And if you don’t have any that’s okay too! Sometimes our very life has enough opportunities for movement and mindfulness that we don’t need yet another resolution. My prayer is that each of us can gently ease our way into 2018. Moving in slowly and watching the year unfold is totally okay too.

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

If You Can't Waltz Into the New Year

This picture sums up how I feel about a new year. And it is not what you think. Please. Don’t even imagine that it’s about me conquering some wall or mountain with any kind of grace or skill.

What you don’t know about this picture is the feeling I have in my stomach. The butterflies flutter around my insides and my heart jumps in my throat. I am afraid to keep going. I’m scared to get to the top. And the worst part is I don’t even know what to grab onto next. There are so many colors and shapes to choose from and no clear easy way up. I don’t even know where to place my hand or put my energy next.

And it’s isolating up here. I know there are others climbing and struggling. But I can’t see them and I can’t feel them. Scary things do that. They make us think we are the only ones.

I know others have slumped into the New Year after they have crawled out of Christmas. The new years resolutions and goals and vision making is all very beautiful and inspiring if you are in a good place. If you are in a bad place, well then you and I both know how it feels.

Just reaching forward is overwhelming. One cannot try to come up with a list of new habits and goals when one is only hoping to hold on.

And can we talk about how puny and tiny some of those rocks look? Please. It can’t hold on to me. It certainly can’t hold my entire body weight.

Scott and I have had some hard knocks this fall. We’ve gotten some bad news in a variety of forms. A phone call. A conversation. An email.

You see when I get bad news I freeze. And usually my face shows this. I call it the emotional tundra of the soul. It’s what therapists call a “flat affect”. It’s not a positive thing. But it’s my thing and I’m used to it. It’s how I appear calm under crisis.  But inside as the news makes it’s way from my brain to my heart and burrows into my being, then I begin to feel it because once you start to feel you can’t think your way out of it.

Bad news is always delayed with me. I often feel numb. Or just flat. I hear it and then days and weeks later I feel it. Soon I feel it is so strongly I fear I am going under. It hits me like lead and lodges itself into all the corners and cracks within me. And I wonder to myself how does one jump into the New Year expectant and hope filled with glitter and gold and confetti and noise makers when you fear what looms ahead.

Sometimes life does feel like a very scary climb with lots of choices and bad news and so much uncertainty (and stupid puny rocks to hold onto). I would like to title these rocks, “pray more” or “think positive thoughts” or “God is with you” and truth be told, sometimes I want to kick these well-meaning but quite dudly little rocks to the curb.

But sometimes I need these little rocks and sometimes all I have left is to pray. And sometimes I’m surprised because it does hold my weight and sometimes that seemingly silly little pebble gets me to reach forward again and grasp what is in front of me.

Basically what I want you to know is this: if you aren’t waltzing into the New Year and you are actually limping, crawling, slumping, or just dragging yourself into 2018 then YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

I’m sorry life is being a giant shit sandwich for you right now. I know it’s overwhelming and that the “whelm” threatens to flood you. I want you to know it’s okay to be where you are at. Anyone who needs it to be all sparkles and rainbows and confetti for you is just uncomfortable with pain. It’s not your fault they haven't built up those muscles yet. 

I say, forget that noise.

Instead focus on the next rock or pebble or piece of gravel in front of you and hold on. It might be reaching out to a friend, it might be calling your therapist, snuggling your dog, trying out a new recipe, a walk on the beach, practicing a meditation, maybe it is a prayer. I know it will literally feel like you are holding on to a feather and you will feel your heart pound and your hands will sweat. It will feel like it isn’t helping AT ALL. But don’t stop.

 Listen; there’s another side to this climb and this New Year. I promise there isn’t only bad looming ahead of you. There is some good waiting too. (there could be confetti: don’t hate it too much). There is some joy and laughter and lightness and glee too.

But if you are skeptical of some good in the New Year, that’s okay too and I don’t blame you. In many ways we're all still reeling from what 2017 flung at us. 

Still there’s always the chance of being surprised by good news, taken off guard by hope, and marveling at the good still in this world.

Wobbly legs, shaky arms and a sensitive soul has never stopped us before.

And if you get sick of climbing, you can always fall because there are actually very squishy soft mats beneath you. (call it God, or the Universe or more accurately the Grotto Climbing Gym).

Saturday, December 30, 2017

Book List For 2017

Well here we are entering 2018. I am so excited to share my 52 book list with you all! It feels like yesterday that Scott and I were sitting in a charming bookshop in St. Andrews, Scotland discussing our 52 books in 52 weeks challenge and all the genres and categories of books we would fulfill. I am happy to say I have read almost all of the book categories we set out to read (with the exception of finances and marriage…HAHA). Don’t get me started on a rant on how much I despise (most) marriage books. I’m thinking I’ll just count the book I read on Internal Family Systems because it does benefits couples after all! As for finances, well there is always next year!

The hardest thing about this challenge was…finishing a book I didn’t like. I didn’t realize how often I start a book and then never finish it because I lose interest or am intimidated by it’s complexity. It was especially hard to finish books that I felt like were written poorly, followed no clear plot line or had sketchy theology.

What surprised me most about this challenge was…how much I enjoyed poetry! I have always gravitated towards the mental health, self-improvement, and memoirs of spirituality so exploring poetry was new and exciting for me. I plan to start Rupi Kaur’s poetry next!

One more surprise…drumroll please… I LOVED THE HARRY POTTER BOOKS. Now I know this isn’t a surprise to you but to me it really was. The genre of fantasy is not my favorite AT ALL. Not in books, movies or TV shows. Every Christmas my sisters would watch Lord of the Rings and I would be bored out of my mind. I never made my way through the Chronicles of Narnia.  I cannot handle Star Trek and Stars Wars (I know it’s sci-fi). It’s not that I think they are bad it’s just snoozeville for me. So for me to read Harry Potter and LOVE it was a huge surprise (and an accomplishment at my ripe ol' age of 32).

The best part of this challenge was…finishing! I love finishing a goal and I adore lists. Having a book list going was so much fun. Every week I was reading a couple books and was always looking forward to the next read. I tried to be conscious about reading more female authors as well as more books by people of color. Our world can become very small when all we read is white male authors. (And I know how easy a trap this is in small evangelical communities here in America).

Please feel free to message me or comment with any questions! I noted the ones I recommended and my favorites but it was so hard to pick.

Now I need to figure out a new 52 something in 52 weeks goal. (how about 52 Netflix shows in 52 weeks?!?! Lol)

1.             Caddie Woodlawn by Carol Brink*
2.             Out Of Sorts By Sarah Bessey*+
3.             Flourish by Margaret Feinberg
4.             Sandy Toes by Robin Jones Gunn
5.             A Little Princess by Frances Hudgon Burnett*
6.             Spiritual Sobriety by Elizabeth Esther+
7.             Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them by J.K. Rowling
8.             The Secret Garden by Frances Hudgon Burnett
9.             Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling*
10.          Small Victories By Anne Lammott
11.          People I Want to Punch in the Throat by Jen Mann
12.          The Divorce Express by Paula Danziger
13.          The Sin of Certainty by Peter Enns+
14.          The Best We Could Do by Thi Bui *+
15.          Present Over Perfect by Shauna Niequist*+
16.          The Magnolia Story by Chip and Joanna Gaines
17.          Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix by J.K. Rowling
18.          Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince by J. K. Rowling*
19.          A Brave and Startling Truth by Maya Angelou
20.          Salty Kisses by Robin Jones Gunn
21.          In the Clearing by Robert Frost
22.          How to Be a Wildflower by Katie Daisy
23.          Talking as Fast as I Can by Lauren Graham
24.          Harry Potter and the Cursed Child by J.K. Rowling*
25.          The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Seiznick
26.          The Princess Saves Herself in This One by Amanda Lovelace
27.          Under the Lilacs by Louisa May Alcott
28.          Bridge to Haven by Francine Rivers
29.          No Matter the Wreckage by Sarah Kay*+
30.          The Essential Enneagram by Virginia Price+
31.          The Railway Children by E. Nesbit
32.          Brazen by Leeana Tankersley+
33.          Modern Romance by Aziz Ansari
34.          Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson
35.          The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo
36.          Of Mess and Moxie by Jenn Hatmaker*+
37.          No Other Will Do by Karen Witemeyer
38.          Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes+
39.          Felicty: Poems by Mary Oliver
40.          I’m Judging You by Luvvie Ajayi+
41.          Engaging Father Christmas by Robin Jones Gunn
42.          Contemplative Prayer by Thomas Merton
43.          You are Safe here by AVA*+
44.          Paris for One by Jojo Moyes
45.          Thirst: Poems by Mary Oliver
46.          You Are the One You’ve Been Waiting for: IFS Theory by Richard Schwartz
47.          Sunset Lullaby by Robin Jones Gunn*
48.          Braving the Wilderness by Brene Brown+
49.          Secrets from the Eating Lab by Traci Mann+
50.          Falling Upward by Richard Rhor*+
51.          We Should All Be Feminists by Chimanda Ngozi Adichie*+
52.          The 100 Dresses by Eleanor Estes*+

Additional (Children’s) Books:
Eloise’s Guide to Life by Kay Thompson
What Do You Do with an Idea by Kobi Yamada*+
What Do You Do with a Problem by Kobi Yamada*+
How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss
The Maybe Days by Jennifer Wilgocki *+ (amazing for kids in foster care)
The Family Book by Todd Parr
Felice the Christmas Ferry by Irene Mathias
Finding Christmas by Lezlie Evans *+
The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore by William Joyce
Dragons Love Tacos by Adam Rubin
The Christmas Town by Donna Van Liere

*Favorites (It is so hard to pick favorites)
+ Would recommend