Traveling mercies book6/1/2023 ![]() ![]() ![]() When I think of Anne Lamott’s writing, her honesty and humor are the first qualities that come to my mind. I doled the essays out slowly, just one at a time, more of a daily-ish foot-washing than an actual bath. But it had been a while since I read the whole thing, and after attending Anne and her son Sam’s recent book-signing in DC, I thought this Easter season would be a good time to reread it. I’ve read Traveling Mercies in its entirety at least twice before, and I’ve dipped into it to read an essay here or there many other times. It was peaceful and cleansing, and the scent helped take my spiritual headache away. (And even the how of following those rules is vexatiously unclear.) Reading Lamott’s confessional and irreverent essays about life and faith felt like stepping into a warm lavender-scented bath. I felt surrounded by people who believed in easy answers and straightforward rules, and I was becoming increasingly convinced that life is messy and once we get beyond the basics, like “do unto others” and “love God and your neighbor,” the rules are never as clear as we think. I first encountered her writing at a time when I was feeling conflicted about how the way I thought and felt about life didn’t seem to jibe with the way so many other Christians felt. I’ve written before about how important Anne Lamott’s writing has been for me. ![]()
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