Miracles and Other Reasonable Things: A Story of Unlearning and Relearning God b

Description: Miracles and Other Reasonable Things by Sarah Bessey In her most personal book yet, popular speaker and bestselling author Bessey invites readers into her long--and sometimes miraculous--road to recovery after a terrible accident and shares how it changed everything she believed about God.about God. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description "This book--the fullness, depth, and beauty of Sarah Besseys faith and artistic genius--is a miracle" (Glennon Doyle, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Love Warrior) and an unforgettable and life-affirming exploration of how trauma can strengthen your faith and miracles can be found in unexpected places. In the brief instant Sarah Bessey realized that her minivan was, inevitably, going to hit the car on the highway on the bright, clear day of the crash, she knew intuitively that it would have life-changing consequences. But as she navigated the winding path from her life before the accident--as a popular author, preacher, and loving wife and mother--to her new life after, inhabiting a body that no longer felt like her own, she found that the most unexpected result was how it shook her deeply rooted faith, upending everything she thought she knew and held so dearly. Weaving together theology and memoir, Sarah delivers "a well-written reminder of seeing the miracles in lifes highs and lows" (Library Journal). The road of healing leads to Rome where she met the Pope (its complicated) and encountered the Holy Spirit in the last place she expected. She writes about her miraculous healing, learning to live with chronic pain, and the ways God makes us whole in the midst of suffering. She invites us to a path of knowing God that is filled with ordinary miracles, hope in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, and other completely reasonable things. Insightful, profound, and unexpected, "Sarahs writing is so breathtaking, sometimes you think you are reading poetry. The story is so thrilling, sometimes you think you are devouring a novel. And the Spirit she describes is so compelling, youll swear you experienced a revival. You wont put it down once until you close the last page" (Jen Hatmaker, New York Times bestselling author). Author Biography Sarah Bessey is the author of the popular and critically acclaimed books, Out of Sorts: Making Peace with an Evolving Faith, Jesus Feminist, and Miracles and Other Reasonable Things. She is a sought-after speaker at churches, conferences, and universities all around the world. Sarah is also the cocurator and cohost of the annual Evolving Faith Conference and she serves as President of the Board for Heartline Ministries in Haiti. Sarah lives in Abbotsford, British Columbia, with her husband and their four children. Review "This book--the fullness, depth, and beauty of Sarah Besseys faith and artistic genius--is a miracle. Sarah, a prophet who cries out with fury from the pulpit and who whispers tenderly from the page, is simply my favorite faith writer. With Miracles and Other Reasonable Things, she invites us to lives of wonder by opening our eyes to the ordinary, extraordinary miracles of our days." --Glennon Doyle, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Untamed and founder of Together Rising"Miracles and Other Reasonable Things will surprise and delight you. Sarahs writing is so breathtaking, sometimes you think you are reading poetry. The story is so thrilling, sometimes you think you are devouring a novel. And the Spirit she describes is so compelling, youll swear you experienced a revival. You wont put it down once until you close the last page. We are so lucky to be readers in the era of Sarah Bessey."--Jen Hatmaker, New York Times bestselling author of For the Love and Of Mess of Moxie and host of the For the Love Podcast"In Miracles and Other Reasonable Things, Sarah shows us how pain and loss can teach us to let go of what binds us in our faith stories while clinging to that which helps us survive--and ultimately thrive."--Mike McHargue, cofounder of The Liturgists and host of Ask Science Mike"Sarah Besseys Miracles and Other Reasonable Things is immediately one of my favorite books. I cant think of a single other work that brings together such raw, vulnerable pain with such a real sense of enchantment. Sarah is not too pious to tell us the truth about suffering, but not too cool to tell us the truth about the magic, either. In this trail-blazing, bush-burning book, anything can happen: the Pope shows up, and God does too . . . except of course, when God doesnt."--Jonathan Martin, author of How to Survive a Shipwreck and Prototype Review Quote "Wise and funny, Sarah Bessey writes with hard-won hope that the space between healed and sick can be sacred ground. Thank God for Sarah, a faithful companion to those of us on the losing side of life." Excerpt from Book Chapter 1: Lucky CHAPTER 1 LUCKY When I woke up in my minivan, the first thing to register was the smell of Tim Hortons coffee. At the moment of the crash, my coffee had exploded out of the cup holder, hitting the windshield and the roof, raining dark roast everywhere. A panicked face appeared at my car door. He was frantically banging on the door, and a horn--my horn--was blaring. I lifted my head up off the exploded steering wheel airbag slowly, disoriented. Automatically I reached over and unlocked my door, which he swung wide open. I groaned at the small movement. I could move my arm, though--that was a good sign. "You okay?" he shouted over the horn blaring. "Are you okay? Maam? Miss? Can you hear me? Are you okay?" I had no idea how to answer that question. Was I okay? I had no idea. My whole body began to shake. I couldnt seem to move on purpose. Everything hurt right up close to me, everywhere, especially on my left side, but my brain was still far away, wondering indignantly why I smelled coffee and smoke, why the horn wouldnt stop screaming. "Dont move," he said. "Dont move at all." I could hear sirens in the distance. Another car was crumpled on the side of the road; I was horizontal across the highway, facing the west even though I had been driving north. The sun was still somehow shining. I could smell hot tires, see black tire skid marks everywhere. Who knew that crashed metal had such a horrible smell? The airbags were still burning against my body; there was grit in my teeth. "I saw the whole thing," the man at my window shouted. "I saw it all. Good God, youre a lucky girl. Holy hell. I saw that whole thing. Dont move now; just wait for the guys. The guys are coming. Those are my guys--Im a volunteer firefighter, miss. Hang in there, now. Jesus." "Bri, could you wipe the tears out of my ears?" I was lying flat on my back, strapped to a metal board, encased in a neck brace in the hallway of our emergency room triage. It was an out-of-the-ordinary night at our regional hospital. Maybe there was a full moon; I dont really know--after all, I wasnt near a window, and I wouldnt see the sky for many hours still. All of the rooms were full, the beds were scarce, the doctors were scurrying, the nurses were triage efficient, reinforcements were being called, and I was entirely focused on enduring. I wasnt actively crying. I was just weeping quietly without intention. The tears kept coming, pooling in my ears, leaving me feeling like I was swimming underwater. I waited until I could barely hear the noise of the hospital before I asked Brian to wipe my ears out. "Why didnt you say something sooner?" he asked, sweeping a hospital-grade tissue into each of my ears. "I didnt want to be a bother," I said. "Im sorry." "I think that ship has sailed," he said. "This whole mess is super inconvenient for me--bad timing, Styles. Couldve planned this better, eh?" He has always called me by my maiden name when hes feeling tender. He placed his hand gently on my forehead and moved my hair back from my face, tucking it behind the collar of the neck brace, holding my gaze. "Honestly, woman," he gently scolded, shaking his head slightly. "Where else would I be?" A while later, he said, "Youre still shaking, Sar. Are you cold? I heard they have heated blankets down by the nurses station. Ill be right back with one. The nurse told me where to go." "Not cold, no," I chattered. "Just still cant stop shaking. Im sorry." "I hate the smell of hospitals," I whispered when he returned with the heavy, warm blanket. "Ive had enough of hospitals this year. I dont want to do this anymore. I just want to go home." "You sound like your dad," he said. "We just finally got him home, and now here you are. Well get through this--youll see." "Im just so tired. I want to go home." We fell silent. Eventually a woman sat down near us, wrapped in crude bandages up her arms. "Wow, what are you in for?" my husband asked her sympathetically. For twenty years now, Ive watched my husband make friends everywhere he goes. Once we were in the checkout line at a Walmart Supercenter in Texas when I realized we had forgotten the milk. He said hello to the cashier and began unloading the groceries while I turned to run back to the dairy case. By the time I returned with a jug of milk in my hands, the cashier was wiping her eyes with a tissue and he was nodding sympathetically as she said, "And, of course, that just brought up all the feelings of when my dad left us...." Brian turned to me and said, "Babe, this is Susan; she was just telling me about her Thanksgiving." Of course she was. I wasnt even surprised by then. People trust him almost immediately. It was part of why I fell in love with him: he was so earnestly and unapologetically interested in people; he liked almost everyone, and they loved him for his unfussy genuine interest, his warmth and steadiness. Me? I rejoiced when the grocery stores installed self-checkout lanes so I wouldnt have to ask the Susans about Thanksgiving. My husband thinks self-checkout lanes are an abomination, taking jobs from decent working people: another symptom of disconnection in our society. There is an old adage that married people start to look like each other as the years go by: this is certainly true in my capacity to make small talk with strangers. I have grown from a girl who just wanted to get her milk without making eye contact to someone who is on a first-name basis with the checkout ladies at my corner store. I often joke that he was born the best kind of grown-up: capable and kind, never in doubt to what is The Right Thing to Do, the kind who makes you relax because someone good is in charge. Hes the sort of man who started saving for university when our babies were all still in diapers, who knows how to fix drywall and plant gardens, who renews insurance and files taxes early by himself, who sticks with the credit union out of principle, who coaches middle school basketball because he genuinely loves to be there. And so, of course, he is here with me. Back at the hospital, it turned out the lady across the hall from us had been on the wrong end of a pressure cooker explosion earlier. "Thatll teach me to cook a meal," she said with a good-natured chortle. "Carryout meals from the White Spot from now on, thats what I told my husband! How about you two?" "Car accident," he replied. "My wife was in a crash. Were just waiting for the CT scan to open up. Busy night here." "Poor girl," she said sympathetically. "Drivers these days. I hope it goes well for you both." I couldnt turn my head to look at her, but she sounded kind. "Im sure Ill be fine," I said to the ceiling. "Of course you will be," she said. "You were lucky." They kept chatting as the clock above my head ticked steadily. I felt relief that they had found each other in the hallway, because I could be silent and awake yet distracted by their conversation. Each time the minute hand moved, it sprang forward with a click and wavered from its new position in time. It was the only thing other than ceiling tiles that I could see from my strict vantage point. It seemed impossible that just hours before I was out for a drive. I had been enjoying the peace of the moment when alongside the back highway, in the fields at the base of the mountains, I had caught a glimpse of a heron, swooping across a low pond in a field. It had felt like a good omen for the day. I often see a heron at key moments in my life. It began one day when I went for a walk at the lake in our town. It was late spring but a pleasant cold, the kind that wakes you up a bit after a winter of too much coziness and too many candles. I stuffed my hands into my mittens and tucked the gray hair at my temples behind my ears. I hadnt gotten my hair colored in a while and it showed, I hadnt slept well and it showed, I hadnt felt like myself in a while and it showed. I was tired and so I needed to walk in the fresh air to wake up; I was looking for something like a deep breath. The sun was already low in the sky, and the trees were asleep with early spring cold. I stood on the edge of our little community lake and watched the geese beginning to swoop in after winter, the clouds resting like a gauze scarf on the mountains rising dark in the deep light. I turned toward the reeds and there, standing still, staring right at me, was a blue heron, slender and regal, neck relaxed, her long legs in the water among the reeds. Ive always loved blue herons: their blue-gray wings are like twilight, their elegance rooted in their ubiquitous domesticity. I remember hearing once long ago that herons were considered a good omen: when the First Nations indigenous to my homeland would head out on a fishing expedition, the sighting of the heron meant it would be a worthwhile hunt because the bird embodied patience and wisdom, both necessary for survival. They can be seen as protectors and guardians, sentinels. A friend once told me that this is because a heron is equally at home in the water, upon the land, and in the air--she goes with the flow and works with the elements around her rather than against them. I stood silently, watching the great blue-gray bird caught between mud and cold water and a darkening sky. Herons are a regular sort of bird, ordinary and unspectacular and yet beautiful. Someone just up the path exclaimed and pointe Details ISBN1982126132 Author Sarah Bessey Short Title Miracles and Other Reasonable Things Pages 240 Publisher Howard Books Language English Year 2020 ISBN-10 1982126132 ISBN-13 9781982126131 Format Paperback Publication Date 2020-10-13 Imprint Howard Books Subtitle A Story of Unlearning and Relearning God DEWEY B Audience General We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! 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