Book Review: Peace Like a River

I recently finished this incredible book, Peace Like a River by Leif Engler. I love books that make you laugh and cry simultaneously and this was one of them.

The story is set in a small Minnesota town. An 11-year-old boy is the narrator, his name is Reuben. His 8-year-old sister, Swede, is a pistol - precocious, smart, a gifted writer and story teller. She is fascinated with outlaws and stories of the west. They have a 16-year-old brother and a deeply religious father - a gentle, wise, forgiving man that would do anything for his family.

Without giving away too much of the plot, the 16-year-old guns down two high school thugs when they break into their home. The town turns against him, the trial goes sour and he breaks out of jail. The family leaves town to try to find him.

There are a few things in particular that resonated with me in this story. One is the way Reuben witnesses the miracles of his father that go unnoticed by everyone, including the family. These amazing, ethereal events are told in such a soft, gentle way, that the peacefulness of them just seem to wash over you:

"He walked right off the edge of the truck...
And did not fall.
Dad's boots touched the tops of a thatch of tall grama
growing up among the thistles,
and they waved as if stroked by the wind."

The other is the relationship that Reuben and Swede have. There was another reviewer that compared them to Scout and in To Kill a Mockingbird and I agree. Like two cohorts, they have an amazingly strong bond. It's really very touching. In one scene, they are driving in a freezing cold car to go hunting for geese with the family. They are buried in blankets and Swede slips off her boots. She puts her icy cold toes against his hip. He pulls them into his lap and starts to rub them to keep them warm. She promptly drifts off to sleep.

And of course, I love Swede and her poems of Sunny Sundown, the honest law-abiding citizen turned outlaw:

His clothes and hat were black as ink, his dancing mustang pale,
His eyes were blue and hard enough to make the sun turn tail.
He said, "You want to hang this man, I'll give you each the same.
I don't much like a mob," said he, "and Sundown is my name."

I can usually gauge a book to be one that I will like within the first paragraph, sometimes the first page. This one had me at the first sentence:

"From my first breath in this world, all I wanted was a good set of lungs
and the air to fill them with..."

Hooray for great books such as this! If you have a particularly inspirational book that you've read recently, please share! I'm always on the lookout for a new recommendation!

...And the cast comes off

The day finally arrived - the cast on my daughter's arm was scheduled to be removed. She was incredibly excited about it and announced it to all of her summer camp friends, counselors, neighbors and anyone else who happened to listen. After this, she'd be able to participate in the camp activities she'd missed out on - swimming, mini-golf and go-carts. At the doctor's office, she hopped around like a jumping bean.

We were lucky to have a doctor with a great personality who joked with her during the procedure. I think we were both expecting a frightening, high-pitched buzz saw. But, the little tool really sounded more like a vacuum cleaner motor and was completely benevolent.

Since I've never had a broken bone that required a cast, it was fascinating for me to watch this process. How the saw the cut through the fiberglass so easily. How the pliers cracked it open like an egg. How her arm was lifted out like a precious little treasure. I was startled to see how tiny and fragile it looked. When I applied lotion to the dry, flaky skin, I felt like I was handling a delicate piece of porcelain.

How amazing it is that these bones of ours can be placed into hard shells to heal. That within these hard shells our skin starts to wither, our muscles begin to atrophy. My daughter's arm was tender after the cast was removed. It was hard for her to move it around. It ached. She asked that I wrap it at night to keep it warm and still.

I remember someone once telling me that it's baffling that humans continue to thrive in this world. With all that can injure and harm us, we still have survived millions of years. We need a certain amount of food and water daily, a certain level of oxygen to breathe. We can't be exposed to extreme temperatures for too long. We have learned to avoid poisonous plants and dangerous animals. We have discovered the right level of immunizations to cure deadly diseases.

At the bookstore recently, I found a book for my daughter on the solar system. Every time I see the lineup of the planets, I am amazed. Nestled within the lifeless orbs that circle the sun it this perfect little beautiful ball of blue and white, shining like a beacon in space. When I was little, I watched a TV program called "The Big Blue Marble" and I think that describes the planet perfectly. How incredible that life thrives on this planet, out of all the planets that we know of. It is a miraculous thought.

Are we simply lucky to be alive? It is just coincidence that, in this world spinning through space, life flourishes in the light of the sun? I think there is a deeper mystery to the perfect balance in our world. There is a reason we are here, that we have survived for all this time. There is a reason that we can heal after being broken. That a small little arm weakly emerging from it's protective shell can grow strong again. So strong that it can swim and play and drive a go-cart.

Ernest L. Woodward was quoted as saying:

So great has been the endurance, so incredible the achievement, that,
as long as the sun keeps a set course in heaven, it would be foolish to despair of the human race.

So I celebrate the wondrous gifts of this world. I give thanks for the miracles that occur every minute of every day. I relish this life and marvel at its beauty.