Holding On and Letting Go

Why do we name months, but we don't name years?  I decided I'd start.  2014 is now to be called "Crit."  It's "crap" and another word (that I can't say unless I'm doing yard-work or sewing) put together.  I thought of that today, at about 10 o'clock, when I felt a cold coming on.  I guess it was to be expected, seeing as how a good proportion of my class has been in and out this week with various ailments.  And I'm the lucky one who gets to throw away their Kleenexes when they forget to.  (And teachers don't get paid enough....  Yeah....  Right.)


At any rate, it's just a cold.  A stupid cold, in addition to the dysfunctional digestive tract (which I'm sure you're all tired of hearing about) that gives added dimension to what it means to be sore from a cold.  My poor students.  I'm sure they want their old teacher back-- the one who teaches them Yoga at lunch or line-dancing after school.  Or who throws that rubber rock at them whenever they give really dumb answers to obvious questions.  (They do it on purpose, I swear.)


Because I'm in such a mood, I think it's appropriate to predict what other events will occur this Crit:

• My cold will turn into the flu.
• My flu will turn into a weird strain that the CDC will insist on studying.  I'll be quarantined, and they won't even give me a TV or books.  Just old copies of Seventeen magazine about Justin Beiber.
• My weird flu strain will turn into the zombie virus, and I'll become the one responsible for the impending zombie apocalypse.  You're welcome.
• My dogs will run away, because I never walk them anymore.  I always mean to, but... alas....
• My car's engine will fall out.
• Every appliance will decide to stop working.  Not just my appliances.  Every appliance everywhere.
• Someone will make me watch The Lone Ranger again.  (Bad movie.  Bad, bad movie.)
• Juan Pablo won't find true love.
• My bladder will go out, and I'll have to wear Depends.
• I'll have to pay a ridiculous amount in taxes equaling a month's paycheck.  (Oh, wait.  That was last year.)
• If I had a boyfriend, he'd break up with me.

Oh, Crit.  Why?  Just, why?


Actually, though, I don't say this so that anyone feels sorry.  (Unless you want to walk my dogs.  Then, feel sorry for me.)  I really don't feel sorry for myself.  Besides my initial reaction to getting a cold, I'm all right with this.  I'm holding on to the good (that I'm mostly functioning) and letting go of the bad (that my Emergen-C failed me).


The older I get (Pushing 30, folks!  I know what I'm talking about!), the more I realize that learning to live happily has a lot to do with holding on to some things and learning to let others go.  As a teacher, I learned quickly that I can't control what goes on in my students' homes.  I can, however, control what my classroom's environment will be-- safe, reliable, consistent.  Holding on to that responsibility, and focusing on that, helps in learning to let go of what I cannot change.


Remember a couple of posts ago?  Worry about what "is," not what "if."


I suppose that all of us, at some point or another, feel like we have to face the armies of the world with nothing more than a toothpick with which to defend ourselves.  Whether it be a battle of finances, a battle of health, a battle of belonging, etc, etc.  (Etc. means I got tired of thinking of things to list.)  That's life, right?  You either cave in and fail, or you don't.  You either hold on to every little thing and let it crush you, or you learn to let go.  You learn to hold on to what little slivers you can control, and you cling to the glimmers of sunlight that give you joy.  That's life.  For those of us who don't quit, I firmly believe that this refining pressure will turn us into diamond-like versions of ourselves.


Luckily, I don't think any of us were ever meant to face these obstacles alone.  What would going it alone really accomplish?  Even though my family and many close friends aren't readily available, should I need them, I am lucky enough to work with many elect ladies (who are also friends) who could help me stare down those armies of misfortunes I face.  And even if they weren't available, I still don't feel alone.  (But isn't sitting alone in your house every night being alone?....  Hey, peanut gallery, let me explain-- sheesh.)


Yeah-- this is going to get religious.  Again, I invite you to stop reading if religion is the kind of thing which offends you, or if it's something you find incomprehensible.  That's Ok.  We can still be friends.


There's a song I heard once growing up.  (Not an expression.  I really only heard it once.)  I don't remember the exact words, but it was about a girl growing up.  As a little child playing with her friend, they struggle to find an appropriate way to share.  The girl asks her friend, "Which part is yours, and which part is mine?  I think I'm unsure."  As an older girl, she had a problem and needed her mom's help.  She went to her mom and said, "Mom, which part is yours [to worry about], and which part is mine?  I think I'm unsure."  She wanted to do her best, but she also knew that she needed help.  Several verses later, the girl is married and raising teenage children.  Sending her child out one night, she finds herself nervously kneeling in prayer.  She says, "Lord, which part is yours [of raising my child], and which part is mine?  I think I'm unsure."....  I really wish I could remember more about the song, so that I could have y'all listen to it too.


At any rate, I find myself in that position a lot lately.  "Lord, which part is yours?  Which part is mine?"  Or, what are those things that You'll care for?  What are those things which I should be doing?  What should I be holding onto?  Of what should I be letting go?  More often than not, I find that my portions of my own agony are much smaller than His portions of my agony.  Not quite sure how it works out like that.


That's what having a relationship with Jesus Christ does for me.  Somehow, not just magically and metaphorically, but very literally, through His Atonement, my armies of frustrating challenges are eliminated from before me.  Somehow my toothpick becomes a walking stick, and I'm able to move forward as I keep His commandments, do all I can to endure, and leave the rest to Him.


Yeah.  I don't know what the rest of Crit is going to look like.  I suppose it doesn't really matter.  From an eternal perspective, all of these small things will eventually amount to one very important thing: the development of myself into who my Heavenly Father would have me be.

Favorite Things

A young Julie Andrews once instructed me that, should I ever encounter the more bitter vicissitudes of life, I should... think of my favorite things.  Upon trying her words, I realized just how many favorite things I really have.  Here's some:

Raindrops on roses

Seriously.  I love roses.  And rain.  And roses and rain together!

and mittens on kittens.

And he shall have some pie.

Stuff about science.

...or history, or literature, or art, or music, or... basically anything that could be on Jeopardy.

When books are well written.

I love books so much that I even blogged about it!

Speaking in Spanish.

el idioma de los cielos


Life under the sea. 

Except when my dive buddy abandons me.  Thanks, Dad.
These are a few of my favorite things.

My Big Apple City.

Forget San Francisco.  I left my heart here.

The Doctor on Hulu.

Well.....  Allonsy!

Cuddling with babies.

All day.  I could do that all day.

The wisdom of gurus.

What he said.

Playing a Steinway

Seriously.  I, physically, cannot pass up the chance to play a Steinway.

and when huskies sing.

Not that I recommend getting a husky.  Talk about high maintenance!
These are a few of my favorite things.

The Captain

...gu.... tongue tied.

and pirates

As an elf is also acceptable.

and Korean dramas.

They will take over your life if you let them.  Fighting!

My nieces and nephews

Sorry, guys.  They're just too cute to be showing off on public sites.

and talking to llamas.

Yeah.  I know.  It's an ibex.  I'm pretty sure that's almost the same thing as a llama.

Bollywood dancing

Hadippa!

and homemade ice cream.

Assuming it digests well, of course.
These are a few of my favorite things.

When the bills bite
or my side stings
or I'm feeling marginally frustrated,
I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don't feel....  much different than I did before, but I had a great time looking at pictures of Chris Evans.  A+ for attractive.

Unexpected

Wow.  I don't know about you, but 2014 sure didn't waste time in slapping me in the face.  And it only has very little to do with the fact that the 9ers lost to that classless team (who will get their butts handed to them by the Broncos, PS).  Thanks a lot, 2014, for all of your twists and turns.  You're sure making me look forward to 2015-- trust me.


Yeah-- unexpected changes make life hard sometimes.  Take, for example, getting older.  Never did I expect to be fighting with acne and gray hairs at the same time.  (What is this?!  The Twilight Zone?  Seriously.)  Never did I expect that I'd have to be a morning person.  Never did I expect that I'd be living and working where I am....  But, here we are.


I certainly never expected the challenges of this year.  The unexpected passing of a cherished loved one.  The surgery and rehabilitation of another.  And I can't seem to get rid of this gnawing guilt that I have from having texted my mom late one night to get a ride to the ER (poor Mom)-- then again, that gnawing is probably just my gallbladder trying to digest dinner.  Yogurt and tuna, by the way.


I know that many make resolutions to live healthier lifestyles as a new year rolls around.  Yep.  Me too, but not by choice.  I've officially reached "old age," well... my gallbladder has anyway.  I'm just hoping I can hold out until summer when I can gorge myself on fat and grease, hopefully do enough damage that I can have the dang thing taken out.  Until then, it's nothing but rice, fruit, and protein shakes (Ensure, anyone?) for me.  Thankfully, I still have frozen yogurt to rely on should I start losing too much weight.  Maybe the occasional handful of Cheezits isn't totally out of the question, if I'm feeling brave.  Unfortunately, it's R.I.P. to my two favorite food groups-- chocolate and French fries.


Yep.  Unexpected changes.  We can adjust.  Or we can complain... and then adjust anyway.  Because there's really no choice not to.  Complaining isn't going to reverse the events which have already happened.  In the words of my Gramies, "You shouldn't worry about what if.  You should only worry about what is."


I was thinking about that the other day as I was recovering from a rather severe attack-- the same one that landed me in the hospital.  My side was aching, felt like someone had beat me up with a crowbar, and I was scared.  I was scared of how tired I was.  I was scared that I wouldn't be able to adjust to my job (which requires an abundance of energy).  I was scared to eat or drink, because I never again wanted to feel the pain that I had felt the night before.  On top of that, there was the worry, sadness, and stress of other expected and unexpected events which had occurred within the new year.  Yet, even feeling all of that, I realized something.  I was hurt.  I was weak.  I was scared.  But I was at peace in spite of it.


That was probably the most unexpected response of all.  Peace?  Really?  Yeah, maybe even with a little bit of "happy" mixed in too.  I don't know how, or when, or if all of 2014's issues will be resolved.  I don't know if I'll ever be able to indulge in Taco Bell again (without needing a side of morphine, that is).  Thinking about it, though, it's a good thing.  I've never been so motivated to take care of myself-- not just for me, but for my students and family also.


As I was pondering there, I also thought about how thankful I was for the parts of my body which function properly.  Think about it-- so much can go wrong in a human.  It's amazing any of us are alive at all.  So many things have to work just right, and most of them do.  Incredible.


I was thinking about my friends and family.  Through this unexpected health "crisis," I've had so many friends and family offer concern and help.  Being the stubbornly independent person I am, I rarely think about who can help me.  Needing to rely on others now, and realizing how many are willing to be relied upon, has been an unexpected blessing to me.


I thought about everyone else I knew who had gone through similar experiences.  While sympathy is an admirable and divine quality, I find that empathy offer a bit more in the department of understanding.  To all of my relatives and friends who have gone through this, I suddenly understand their past struggles much more than I used to.  For those who I encounter in the future...  well, maybe going through this is as much for them as it is for me.


Mostly, though, these last few days have put me to thinking about my Grandmas.  About how worried and sad I was for them.  I decided, in the end, it's good to worry and feel sad because of others.  Because, on the opposite side of that "worry and sad" coin is "love and joy."  Feeling pain, whether physical or emotional, is good.  It means we're capable of feeling.


So-- yeah.  It's certainly going to be an uphill battle through January.  I figure, though, (assuming I can keep a cool head when the hospital bill arrives) that unexpected is to be expected.  Yet, if we continue to do our best to search for those unexpected opportunities and blessings which arise from trial, it's not going to be such a bad year after all.

Kids are the Worst

I have the best and worst job.  This afternoon was one of those "bleh" times.  You know, it's like lunch isn't settling, your stomach is cramping, your up-chuck reflex is in full-swing, and your colon is threatening to explode unless you take off your panty-hose right now!  It's like your head is pounding, your eye twitching, back aching, and-- basically-- your body hurts so much that all you can seem to do is sit behind your desk while student after student come to you asking the same question that you know you answered at least 12 times before they began working on their assignment....  Yeah.  It's like that.




Kids.  How annoying.




Can't they let me enjoy my body's violent episode in peace?  Can't they listen to directions the first time?  Can't they just sit quietly at their desks and teach themselves how to spell "another" and "responsibility" on their own?  Can't they use the restroom without asking my permission first?  (PS-- When is my restroom break?!  Huh?)  Can't they find something with which to quietly entertain themselves while I quietly cry to myself until the bell rings?




Kids.  What a pain.  What a terrible blessing it is to take stewardship over 26 little people everyday who may-- or may not-- want to be in school.




I think Charles Dickens said it best in Nicholas Nickelby when he called children exactly what they are-- "a divine burden."




Do I enjoy every moment as a teacher?  No.  Kids are hard work, and I applaud you parents who get to take the little rascals home.  They are-- they are a burden.  You actually have to take time to teach them to do things the way you want them done.  You have to make sure they have clothes (and coats for recess, please), food, a place to stay.  Anyone who knows kids know that they can smell bad, they can do the stupidest things (like pour water on a light-bulb for no reason), and --for some inexplicable reason I've yet to figure out-- they're usually sticky and messy.




Who would want to put up with that?  Who would willingly put themselves in charge of a little person that, by the way, looks up to and absorbs everything you do?  Who would choose to give up their selfish habits and lifestyles in order to maintain a safe living environment for a kid?  You cry when they cry.  You hurt when they hurt.  You would sooner chop off your own head than wish them harm (except for, you know, vaccinations).  Why on Earth would I care enough to fight through my own physical and emotional pain to run laps around a classroom as I'm bombarded with raised hands that may--or may not-- have a pertinent question on the other end?




Yeah-- kids make us miserable.  But you know what else they do?  They make us better people.  And, you know what?  It kind of bugs me that some would see kids as lesser-people.  They're little.  Not lesser.  In many ways, children have impressed me and taught me more than any adult ever could.  Who wouldn't want that divine burden to become acquainted with a child?




Yet we still have stupid "grown-ups" who feel that kids would "cramp their style."  (Insert TIME magazine article here, except I won't because it made me mad.)  Nope.  No kids for us.  We're too cool.....  All right.  Have fun looking back and regretting your life in 20 years.  Having no kids for medical reasons is tragic, and I'm deeply sorry for those in that situation.  Having no kids because you're too selfish... yeah.  That's maddening to a girl like me.




Even worse-- what about the adoring parents who so lovingly abandon their children on the street?  (Seriously?  Do you know how many people would love to care for that baby?)  At least be responsible enough to get rid of your offspring in an adult way.  Sheesh.




I think I need to mellow out a bit.  Maybe I'm just cranky because my insides are still actively stabbing at me from the inside out.  Maybe it's this stupid "uplifting" video I just watched: watch at your own risk.  I suppose that, deep down (even beneath my temperamental bowels) there's a girl who would gladly carry a divine burden such as a child.  For those out there who crave to hold a baby and help that child grow into adulthood-- yet haven't had the opportunity-- I get it.  I understand your need to punch a wall and/or throw up whenever a child is abused or neglected.  I understand your frustration when you wonder why "so-and-so" had an abortion when you haven't been so divinely "cursed" with a pregnancy.  (Or even the opportunity to get pregnant.)




I don't know why that happens.  I don't know why some of us who yearn to be mothers and fathers never get the chance.  But I do know that every child is infinitely loved by a Heavenly Father who is infinitely aware of their trials.  That goes for both born and unborn.  That goes for you.  That goes for me.  That even goes for the girl who, for some misguided reason, felt that the best choice was to kill her baby.  That even goes for the jacka** "father" who "helped" create the child, yet did nothing to help save him/her.




As for the parents who ask teachers what they can do to help their child improve their grades:  Thank you for taking an interest in your child's education.  You never annoy us teachers when you do that.




As for the parents who joyfully accompany their children on weekend outings:  Thank you for exposing your child to the world in a safe environment.




As for the parents who work three jobs to make sure their children's needs are met:  Thank you for loving your child enough to sacrifice for their physical needs.




As for the parents who would do anything within their power, up to and including the sacrifice of their own lives, in order to raise their children:  Thank you.  Just thank you.




Kids.  What a profound responsibility.  What a meaningful adventure.  What better way could we choose to spend our lives?

Guns

I had plans to run all over town getting this-and-that done today.  That was before I woke up to find that I'd be lucky to make it out of my driveway.  In spite of my hatred for driving in the snow, I did manage to make it a few blocks to the grocery store to buy dog-food.  (My dogs are spoiled.)  I wanted to stop by the classroom and set up a fish tank, but the unplowed parking lot didn't look like something my Chevy Classic needed to try to conquer today.  So now I'm at home.  The dogs are fed (or would be if they'd quit hiding food in the couch), and there's a whole lot of nothing for me to get done here.

That happens sometimes living in the Rockies.  Weather happens, and sometimes my plans have to drastically change.  It was a minor "problem" that I had to learn to deal with in New York too.  Yeah-- NYC and Wyoming/Colorado definitely have snow in common....  That's about it, though.

Due to changing gun laws in some states, I've been thinking a lot lately about the differences between gun culture out east and gun culture in my house.  Hopefully, based on other posts, I've proven myself as a person who doesn't revel in violence or the mistreatment of life.  However, I'm also one who would refuse to give up her AK, even to the extent of surrendering my life.  In simpler terms, they'd have to kill me before I'd let them take my guns from me.  (Whoever "they" are.)

Don't be surprised.  That's western gun culture vs. city gun culture.  We don't use our guns as a means to gain control or power.  We don't use our guns in petty turf wars or gang shoot-outs.  We never use our guns pre-emptively as weapons.  Ever.  (Yes, that includes hunting.  We'll get into that later.)

So, my east coast friends, let me elaborate on some of those reasons why your "crazy" Wyoming friend would sacrifice her life before sacrificing her guns:

• Guns are a tool, not a weapon:  Let's get into that hunting thing.  Personally, I was never able to bring myself to shoot anything, but I don't judge those who have.  Most hunting families who I know use their meat throughout the year to keep their kids fed.  Guns, then, are a tool used to make sure a family's dietary needs are met.  For those of us who own land and/or animals, guns are an absolute necessary tool in scaring off and, in rare cases, killing threats to  property.  Losing a few cows to some coyotes may not seem like a big deal to folks out-east, but such a loss is devastating out here.  Losing a few cows could mean losing the farm, losing the family, losing everything.  Thank goodness ranchers and farmers can use their firearms to protect their livelihoods.  Guns are also tools necessary for self-reliance.  I can confidently say that, if the west were suddenly cut off from all outside resources, my family and I could live comfortably for years providing for ourselves.  We'd rely on our survival skills, knowledge of the land around us, and our guns-- we could do it.  How many people can say that?
• The vast majority of gun owners are responsible:  What I mean by responsible is that they practice gun safety.  When a Wyomingite walks into a gun shop, they're not doing so because Rick's .357 colt python was SOOOOOOO cool on The Walking Dead.  Gun purchases are not on a whim or done to achieve a certain image.  When we bring our money to a gun store, we also bring years (yes, YEARS) of firearm and self-defense training with us.  It's our culture.  Learn to ride a bike-- check.  Learn to handle and store firearms safely-- check.  No joke.  Long before I was allowed to touch a gun, I had it drilled into me what it meant to own one.  "Always act like a gun is loaded."  "Never aim at something unless you intend to kill it."  And there's a whole mess of other rules to go along with those two.  Most of us are professionals, folks.  We have the training and the permits to prove it.
• Firearms run in the family:  Some of the most precious family heirlooms out west are the family firearms.  The shotgun that great-great-grandpa used to settle the homestead.  (We don't have one of those in my family.  It's just an example.)  It's true that certain guns are significant in a family tree.  To take those away from the family would be to take away an important part of that family's legacy.
• Guns protect us from people:  I was going to post a bunch of statistics here to prove my point, but I'm getting hungry, so I'll leave it up to you to do the research.  Where there is strict gun control, there are also elevated amounts of violent crimes-- homicides, stabbings, shootings, etc.  Yeah-- I can't think of any criminal who would walk into a Wyoming establishment expecting to get much done by waving a gun around:  No doubt that criminal would have more than a few barrels pointed back at him/her.  Problem solved.....  I know what you're thinking-- What about mass shootings?  I certainly don't mean to make these tragedies out to be less ...well... tragic than they are/were.  The loss of any life is remorseful.  Did you know, though, that more people are killed by drunk drivers every year than by guns?  (Again, I'll leave you to do the research.)  Yet we're not rallying together to outlaw alcohol or cars....  Think about it.  Taking away guns would only serve to treat the symptoms of a much larger issue, all while taking firearms away from responsible owners... and pissing off everyone from Montana down to Texas.
• Guns protect us from animals:  Living out here, one can expect to run into all sorts of critters.  We're not talking about going up to the mountains for the weekend (although that is an option).  We're talking about seeing elk, deer, antelope, coyotes, foxes, and badgers on the way to work.  Ever been nose to nose with an angry moose?  My dad has.  You never know when a ridiculously aggressive rattle snake or mountain lion is going to pay a visit to your backyard to play with your dog.  Or your kid.  (Yes, there are parts of the country still like this.  Many of us call it home.)  "But that's not safe!" you say?  "Why would you choose to live in a place like that?" you wonder.  Where else would we go?  Chicago?  Detroit?....  No thanks.  I'll take the grizzly on my front porch.
• Guns are a symbol of our independent "western" spirit:  My ancestors were some of the first to settle in America, because they sought freedom.  Tired of persecution and regulations, they came to a land where they could live and let live.  They supported the 2nd amendment, because they knew what it was like to live under a tyrannous government.  Generations later, other ancestors-- again tired of persecution and regulations-- sought freedom again, this time out west.  They established themselves.  (Let's not get into American Indian rights.  That's another blog for another time.)  Generations later, you have me.  You have my family.  You have my friends.  You have thousands of us.  And we're not the types to give in to persecution and regulations.  (Imagine that.)  If a tyrannous government were to demand our guns today, it would be an insult to our identities and everything our ancestors fought to establish.  That's why we won't give it up.  Are we stubborn?  Yes.  Are we right to stand up for rights?  Yes.  Don't like it?  Fine.  Don't move here.

That, my friends, is why I would rather die than live in a world without my AK.

Books

If you're anything like me, resolutions for a new year don't really amount to much.  I'd rather pursue (or, realistically, not pursue) my goals all year long.  One of my ongoing goals has always been to learn as much as I can about... everything.  That's probably why libraries and museums are my favorite places to visit.

Anyway, in my endeavors to seek learning/understanding, I've spent more hours than I care to admit on reading.  If you happen to have resolutions to read more this year (or make your kids read more), then let me suggest a few of my favorites:

Fiction Books for Kids:

• Ella Enchanted:  A book for girls, about a 5th or 6th grade reading level.  I first read Ella Enchanted when I was in 4th grade.  I think it's the reason why I'm so obsessed with fairy tales.  Ella is a heroine worth looking up to as well.  She's both brave and kind-- with a whole lot of loyalty and integrity mixed in.  By far, the best version of Cinderella I've read, and I've read a lot.
• Island and Dive series:  These series books are good for girls, but especially interesting for boys.  About a 5th grade reading level.  Gordon Korman, the author, does an incredible job at researching and constructing believable stories where kids come out the heroes.  These books have been essential in getting my reluctant students to get into reading for the sake of reading.
• Shadow Castle:  About a 3rd or 4th grade reading level.  I grew up on this one.  It's an older story, but certainly timeless in its whimsy.  It's one that left me hoping I would stumble onto a magic castle whenever I went to play outside.  While girls are more drawn to the story for its fairy tale qualities, I find that boys are interested in the story as well (though they pretend not to be).
• Key to the Treasure:  About a 3rd grade reading level.  A great story for boys and girls.  In this story, three children visit their grandparents and discover a treasure map.  Through the course of the story, they piece together the puzzles of the map and discover a whole lot about their grandparents' land in the process.  Perfect for kids who like solving mysteries.
• Coraline:  About a 4th or 5th grade reading level.  Good for girls and boys.  This is the story I give to kids when they tell me they want to read something scary.  It is definitely eerie-- not for the faint of heart, especially if your kids are prone to nightmares.  The book, in this case, is leaps and bounds better than the movie.
• The Westing Game:  About a 6th or 7th grade reading level.  This is the ultimate story for kids who love the mystery genre.  Throughout the narrative, we follow an eclectic group of characters, all involved in the solving of Mr. Westing's murder.  The winner receives the multi-million dollar inheritance.
• Son:  About a 6th or 7th grade reading level.  Have you ever heard of The Giver?  Son is the final book in the Giver series.  (The second and third books in the series are Gathering Blue and Messenger.  I recommend all books of the series.)  In Son, we get to meet Claire, a girl who's stuck living in the community introduced in The Giver.  While the story is written at a junior high level, I find that its themes are more mature.  The driving force in the story is a mother's love to find and care for her child, in spite of the natural and sociological obstacles that would keep her from her son.
• Harry Potter series:  Does this one even need an explanation?  I'm still certain that my acceptance letter to Hogwartz got lost in the mail.  That, or the owl carrying the letter gave up once he had to fly against that Wyoming wind....  Thanks a lot, owl.
• The Chronicles of Narnia:  We've seen the movies.  The books are a lot simpler in plot, but they're a lot more complex in metaphor.

Fiction Books for Adults:

• Les Miserables:  I have not yet come against a version of this story that I do not like.  The book, though, is the best.  I find it refreshing to read of a character who has every right to curse God and humanity but then chooses not to do so.  Likewise, it shows the power of forgiveness.
• Lost Horizon:  I didn't originally have this on the list, but my dad reminded me of it just now.  It raises some interesting points about what is to be valued in life and society.  Shangri-La.
• To Kill a Mockingbird:  Atticus Finch.  Probably one of the greatest protagonists I've ever had the pleasure of "meeting," even if he is a fictional character.
• Hard Times:  I love reading Dickens.  Maybe I like depressing things?  I don't know.  At any rate, this is my favorite of Dickens' works.  It begs to answer the question-- is life all about living by rigid facts?  Or do we enrich our lives with more?  Which is to be valued more:  a wealthy man of learning, or a humble man of hope?
• A Dog's Purpose and A Dog's Journey:  This one is a must for dogs lovers.  It's told from the dog's perspective and offers insight into why our fur-babies behave as they do.  While reading the narrative of this particular dog's life, I was touched with the dog's insightful commentary of the human condition and his understanding of what it means to loyally love another.  It ends happily too, to the point where I was crying.  I don't cry that often.
• The Way of Kings:  This is the best, best, BEST, BEST book ever in my life EVER!!!  It's a fantasy that, by far, surpasses any other book I've read in the genre.  It's better, dare I say, than Lord of the Rings.  It's the first of 10 books (the second comes out in March).  The storyline is complex and compelling.  The characters, though, make the book.  Sanderson masterfully creates his characters with such depth that a reader can't help but feel invested in their stories.  The characters, Kaladin in particular, in spite of all of the wickedness around them, strive to maintain righteousness where it would, otherwise, not exist.  Throughout the story, a reader is challenged to question their own set of values and to question their own motives.  Seriously.  Read this one.

Nonfiction Book for Adults:

• Mere Christianity:  Sometimes I feel like we throw the term "Christian" around as a cutesy, cover-all definition for someone who went to church with their parents on Easter Sunday when they were little.  I appreciate C.S. Lewis for "laying down the law," so to speak in setting forth what it truly means to be a Christian.
• Jesus the Christ:  This is my favorite nonfiction book.  Other than through scripture, this book has helped me to understand Christ more than any other book.  Unlike the New Testament, this book takes a chronological and biographical look at the life of Jesus Christ.  It educates the reader on the cultures and customs into which Christ was born, which clarifies many of His teachings and actions.  It not only speaks of Christ's divinity, but also lends the reader understanding into who Jesus of Nazareth was as a man.
• The Book of Mormon:  Yeah.  Had to throw this one in there.

PS-- I'm a self-proclaimed expert at matching kids with books they'll enjoy reading.  If you have a kid in mind, feel free to message/comment on their grade and interests.  I should be able to recommend a book that they'll actually want to spend time with.  You're welcome.  :)