Who Is My Shelter?

I received a copy of the book “Who Is My Shelter?” by Neta Jackson for free from www.booksneeze.com, in exchange for an honest and fair review. Below is my review.

Who is My Shelter?” is a modern day story about Gabby, a woman facing mid-life, a broken marriage, new love, teenage kids,  as well as, embracing a new endeavor of creating transitional housing for homeless mothers. It’s really a story about her faith journey and her quest to learn what it looks like to have God be a part of every aspect of her life, especially in the difficulties life has unwillingly created for her.  

Overall, I did not enjoy this book as much as I had hoped. I had the ending figured out almost immediately as it was introduced, perhaps a lucky guess? Also, I have not read the previous books in this serious, so I was not familiar with the characters, so that might have had an impact on my overall enjoyment of the book.  Lastly, the book felt just a bit too ‘preachy’ and not enough ‘story’ for my fictional reading enjoyment.  

However, I did appreciate her development of several characters in the book, whom I found to be ‘real’ and believable. In particular, I loved the character of Lucy, a bag lady, with a dog named Dandy, that Gabby befriends. As the book progressed, I found myself wanting to know more about her character. I hope Neta Jackson will consider writing a book about the life of Lucy.

Glimpses of Heaven in Motherhood

Just before the twilight gives way to the morning brightness, Sarah tumbles into my room and climbs into my bed. I lay here, feeling the warmth of my sweet daughter snuggling next to me. Her hair a tousled mess, it looks like the fairies danced in her hair again last night. Involuntarily, my hand reaches up and touches her face – so soft, so tender, I simply receive the gift as it is – a glimpse of heaven here on earth. I turn her eyes towards mine – those big, brown eyes – the windows to her soul – and I look deep into them and I whisper, “I love you. Every day. For the rest of my life.” And she whispers back, “I love you too,” as her lips curl into the sweetest smile. Then, as my arms reach around her, hugging her tight, my soul whispers a silent thanks to God, treasuring once again, this undeserved gift of motherhood.

The Dream Seed

Here is a slightly abstract journal entry.  

Buried beneath this thickness of earth, deep in the darkness, I’d almost forgotten it had always been there — just waiting for the right time. Somewhere in the depth of winter, I failed to remember that it’s not really dead, it’s just sitting patiently, waiting its turn. My dreams have been buried for awhile now. I look out and all I see is blackness, the dreams of my youth, lost within the soil of my soul.  And I’ve wondered, have they simply rotted away?   

Yet tonight, a friend watered this ‘dream seed’ with hope, and earlier this week, an acquaintance shined a few sunbeams down for which I could reach toward. And I am reminded that the seed, or even seeds, which hold all my dreams, are still there. Still viable. They haven’t gone anywhere. They just needed to wait for the right season. And now, the seeds are cracking with the nourishment of hope and encouragement.  Look, do you see it? My dream! It’s growing again! Oh wait, you can’t see it yet, it’s still buried beneath the surface. But one day it will bloom. Perhaps then, because of these years of darkness, I will appreciate the joy of that moment, all the more.