It’s been a month since The Gift of an Ordinary Day was published. No bestseller lists, no rave reviews in the New York Times, no calls from Oprah. There are still a lot of books stacked up on bookstore tables across the land. And yet, to my mind anyway, the book already feels like a success, thanks to all the readers who have discovered it, read it, and then taken the time to write to me and say, “I’m glad you wrote this book, and I’m glad I found it.”
Sitting on the couch in my kitchen all those months ago, typing away, it was easy to pretend that no one would ever actually read what I was writing. With that mindset, I could confess my doubts and fears about growing older, admit that I once hid my seventh grader’s clothes, wrestle with my emotions as the day approached for my older son to leave home, make lists of the mundane things I’m grateful for. Often, at the end of the day, I would wonder if I was just wasting my time, trying to put words to all these private thoughts and feelings. When the book finally came out, and I headed out into the world, to visit bookstores and do interviews, I sort of felt as if I were running around in my pajamas–not totally naked, but oddly exposed and vulnerable.
Then the first letter arrived in my inbox, from a woman in California, just my age. “You and I are kindred spirits and I am sure we would be fast friends if we were to meet,” she wrote. “After spending an emotional afternoon yesterday finalizing the college list with my senior son and husband, who is quite opinionated about what he is willing to pay for, I had the good fortune to spend a half an hour wandering around a book store. Finding “The Gift of an Ordinary Day” was like finding a vintage Valentino gown in a thrift shop. I couldn’t wait to get home and read the chapter on ‘Applying.'”
Tracy went on to tell me a bit about her family, and how my words had seemed to validate some of the things she already felt to be true. That relationships matter, for example. That it is ok to be still. That sometimes just taking a long deep breath is more important than accomplishing something on a list. At the end of her long e-mail, Tracy wrote, “I think we feel the same way about life.” I had to agree.
Last night, my dear new friend who I’ve never met held a gathering for a group of friends at her house outside of Los Angeles. They were meeting to discuss The Gift of an Ordinary Day with one another, and to to put together care packages for their kids in college. Since Tracy’s daughter is in Cairo for the semester (and, as she learned the hard way, shipping to Cairo costs a fortune), she had offered to put together a package for my son Henry, who is in Minnesota. “Hope he will like a bunch of kooky stuff from California,” she wrote the other day.
Meanwhile, Tracy is sending copies of my book to her friends from all over. . .and the conversation among us mothers across the country is expanding by the day. Yesterday, I opened my e-mail to find a note from yet another kindred spirit. The words touched my heart: “While reading your book, so many of my thoughts and realizations found not only companionship but validation and hope. Thank you for becoming my ‘partner’ with your book, comforting me with your words and easing my way to surrender. I know that this process won’t be easy or quick…but I’m on my way.”
Today, I am sitting on the couch in my kitchen, computer balanced on my knees, looking out at the same mountains that inspired me to put down roots in this small New England town five years ago. But all of a sudden now, I feel a part of a much wider community, new friends with stories to share and words of support and encouragement. Who knows, someday we all may meet in person somewhere, to walk on a beach, cook dinner, and compare notes face to face. But until then, how grateful I am to know that we are connected by words, shared sensibilities, common hopes and dreams for ourselves and for our children.
Let the conversation continue. I am glad to know you!
I may be a bit premature in sending this message out into the world to find you. I just found your book this week and am only on chapter two, but I know for sure this is going to be a keeper. (keeper = a book I discover at the library and love so much I have to buy a copy for my bookcase at home.)
I also feel like I have found a kindred spirit in you. (and we are just on chapter two, imagine how I’ll feel after the last chapter!) I am a mom to four great kids, one of them leaving for college next year. Her brother leaves for college the next year. It all happened so fast.
We are also a family (rare, it seems) who passed on spending every weekend on the soccer sidelines and instead found family adventure of our own, exploring woods and festivals and fairs. It is something we have never regretted.
I have a daughter and three sons, so your stories about ‘your boys’ resonates with me. I feel like we have a house overflowing with boys (esp when friends are around, multiplying the testosterone) I think my daughter would agree.
I write a parenting column for our local paper and post my essays on my blog, called justonefoot.blogspot.com. I think about life a lot, as I can tell you do, and it is so refreshing to find your book and your voice. I have a feeling I may be up until the wee hours tonight, diving into the other chapters of your book, those that come after chapter two.
My treasured family in law live in NH and one specific precious brother/sister in law live in Lyndeboro, near Pack Modadnock. I would assume they are somehow your neighbors. 🙂
So all that means is that maybe some day I will be lucky enough to meet you, this other mom who seems to understand the life I live.
Cant wait to get back to the rest of your book….
With much fondness,
Judy Berna
I swear I didn’t know they would grow up. That part of the story never even occurred to me as I whole-heartedly threw myself into the day to day adventure of raising these four babies of mine.
Your book has returned a bit of sanity to this unanticipated and downright startling period of letting go. At moments, it is my lifeline.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Gail
well, you and your writing fell into my lap today. how did you know I needed a refreshing voice? I am the mom of 2 boys – ages 2 and 4. My mom sent me your youtube video and after weeping over your beautiful words, I happened upon your blog. I am now up WAY past my bedtime, will need several cups of some kind of caffeine to get going tomorrow, but your writing is just filling me up. I am just thrilled to have found you tonight.
I should also add that I spent most of my life in Minnesota and know the music program at St. Olaf well and that it is a good one. My husband sang at Luther College, a musical rival of St. Olaf’s. : ) I now live in Manhattan, KS.
http://www.sweatpantsandaminivan.blogspot.com
Dearest Katrina,
At the beginning of this summer I found myself in a quaint little bookstore with my youngest daughter, who is six, and loves books with all her might. We spent close to an hour there and after we made some small purchases she decided she needed to read just one more book. Since we had plenty of time I let her slip back into the children section and I meandered around the bookstore again. I was drawn to a soft blue book with a teacup and clouds … I couldn't believe my good fortune when I realized you had written this book. I have read, reread, and had just reread again "Mitten Strings to God". I LOVE "Mitten Strings to God", it's sitting in my living room so I can open it to a page on any given day for inspiration. So, I literally skipped back to the checkout counter to buy "The Gift of the Ordinary Day". I love this book, too! My girls are currently 10 and 6 and growing up way to quickly. I sometimes imagine myself hanging onto the hands of time slowing it so we can stay in these moments a little longer. If only this were possible! Instead we have enjoyed a glorious summer here at our house filled with cooking, reading, hiking, hopscotch in the driveway, snuggling in bed in the mornings, walks in nature, bike rides around the neighbourhood … just quiet days we fill up with things that make us happy. There have been no summer camps, no rushing around from one activity to the next. I am so grateful to you for inspiring me to slow down, to be present and savour these precious times so they never slip away unnoticed. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!
Warmly,
Michelle