Whoever says they prefer fiction because it tells a better story than real life, has never read I Am Hutterite by Mary-Ann Kirkby. This memoir delves into her childhood, exploring her upbringing in a Canadian Hutterite community (which is similar to the Amish in that it's a religiously-based community with strict, old-fashioned dress codes) and then her eventual struggle to adapt to English life when her family left the community when she was only ten.

I was not familiar with the Hutterite communities before I read this book. Of course, growing up in Ohio and attending college in the Appalachian foothills, I knew the Amish and Mennonite communities whom we might see at the zoo or whose horse-and-buggies we might zip pass on the highway. (In fact, my fascination with these sects was one of the dreams that encouraged me to explore journalism as a career; I hoped that some feature story might lead me behind-the-scenes where I could live alongside the Amish for a week or two, and then write about my foray.)

What seems to set the Hutterites apart from other communities like the Amish (aside from the women's polka-dotted headkerchiefs) is that their community is based around the biblical image we see in Acts where all the believers live together and share all their belongings. Hutterites attempt to live this characteristic out by eating meals together, sharing communal chores, harvesting crops together and rationing the yields equally. Everyone's needs, from those of new mothers to the elderly, are looked after and taken care of by the entire community as they embrace this conviction.

Kirkby shares what it was like to be raised in this sort of tight-knitted community, where literally everything is shared, from household chores to celebrations to the unfortunate tragedies and hardships that characterize life no matter how idyllic it might at first seem. And in spite of good intentions, no human project is ever perfect, including that of the Hutterites. It was the difficulties of community life that arose that eventually coaxed her parents to leave the colony with their seven children.

With honesty and rich revelation, she shares how devastating this decision was for her as her family left the colony in 1969 with little to their name to start anew. While everything had been taken care of communally in life in the colony, life outside was a stark contrast. They now had to worry about affording groceries, paying bills, finding work, as well as adjusting to being outsiders and fighting the loneliness that came with their newfound freedcom. With frequent visits and letters to her best friends back to the colony, Kirkby shares how she was able to keep one foot in each world--find her way around the outside world but also cling to the Hutterite heritage she would always consider home.

The memoir is an intriguing look into this obscure lifestyle, the emphasis put on family, sacrifice, hospitality and forgiveness--true tenets of the Christian faith that unfortunately are rarely lived out so vibrantly. Approachable and transparently, she intimately shares her story. I took in every word, imagining the beauty of living on a farm with all my friends and families just moments away, wishing for a bit of that myself. Though I had hoped she would have spent more time exploring more of how she found her place in Canadian society, adapted to it and how she integrates her upbringing today, this story was so rich and compelling--better than any fiction--that I read it in a day.

Tall bookshelves decorate one full wall in my living room. While I'd prefer to organize via spine color (so pretty!), that just doesn't seem all that practical when you're trying to hunt a particular one down, neck craned and eyes darting through 12 shelves-worth of titles.

Instead, I've tried to bring some organization so that I can easily hunt down a title; fiction are on the top left shelf, then non-fiction, with prayer topics grouped together, then marriage/relationship books, commentaries, etc. Near the bottom shelf, I have a little stack of books on my "to read" list.

I don't go through this list very quickly; often I supplement it with books I pick up from the library. But I thought I'd share the titles that have made this list of mine, sitting ever-so-patiently on the bottom shelf, waiting to be read:

I think it’s safe to say that for most of us, we struggle with feeling like we’re not achieving what we should, we’re not making a difference, we’re not living up to our potential, and we can easily get discouraged by it all.

A couple years ago I read a book called Anonymous, which talks about this sense of “anonymity” we often feel. The author, Alicia Britt Chole, looks at it a different way, though, seeing these seasons of our lives as an opportunity from God to prepare us for our seasons of action, of affecting the world.

One of the analogies she uses is of trees and how the different seasons affect them: During the summer, their leaves are full and coat the limbs, but when winter comes, the leaves fall off and all that is left is the tree’s infrastructure. So it is with us: What the plenty of summer hides, the nakedness of winter reveals. When the winters of our life hit, we are stripped down to bear the strength of our infrastructure–our character.

But we must take time to grow and build up to be able to withstand those winters. It’s these seasons of anonymity, when we go unseen and seem unnoticeable, that protect us and prepare us so that we have time to create and forge that infrastructure. Then, when we undergo the winters of our life, our underlying strength will be strong enough to shine through and sustain us.

Chole writes in the book, “Anonymous seasons are sacred spaces, they are formative and to be rested in, not rushed through–and never regretted.” And, “We can easily mistake fruitlessness for failure. We naturally grant more weight to the visible than the invisible, so it’s easy for us to underestimate its vital importance. We must not think unseen = unimportant.”

This will be for the LORD’s renown,
for an everlasting sign,
which will not be destroyed.
Isaiah 55:13