Rare Bird
A Memoir of Loss and Love
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- 8,49 €
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- 8,49 €
Publisher Description
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • “A masterpiece of hope, love, and the resilience and ferocity of the human spirit.”—Glennon Doyle Melton, from the foreword
“Profound, tender, honest—and utterly unforgettable.”—Gretchen Rubin
“I wish I had nothing to say on the matter of loss, but I do. Because one day I encouraged my two kids to go out and play in the rain, and only one came home. . . .”
On an ordinary September day, twelve-year-old Jack is swept away in a freak neighborhood flood. His parents and younger sister are left to wrestle with awful questions: How could God let this happen? Can we ever be happy again?
In Rare Bird, Anna Whiston-Donaldson unfolds a mother’s story of loss that leads, in time, to enduring hope. This is a book about facing impossible circumstances and desperately wishing you could turn back the clock. It is about discovering that you’re braver than you think. It is about the flicker of hope and the realization that in times of heartbreak, God is closer than your own skin.
With this unforgettable account of a family’s love and longing, Anna will draw you deeper into a divine goodness that keeps us—beyond all earthly circumstances—safe.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
In this powerful debut memoir, blogger Whiston-Donaldson tells the tragic story of the death of her 12-year-old son Jack. The author is an emotionally insightful guide to the territory of grief. She notes the relationship of grief and shame, the comforts and sorrows of sex, and the hideous fights between bereaved parents. From its disarming opening sentence ("I thought the first book I'd write would be about painting furniture"), the book avoids sentimentality. The book is well paced the reader knows from the start that the author's child is dead, but doesn't know precisely how he dies for some chapters and is underpinned by a steady drumbeat of faith, as Whiston-Donaldson negotiates a new relationship with God after Jack's death. She feels deeply loved by God, "almost as if I'm wrapped in a soft, cotton batting," but she is also "disappointed and hurt... and the only broken body I can picture right now is Jack's." Whiston-Donaldson's compelling account belongs on the shelf next to Richard Lischer's Stations of the Heart.
