The reasons I haven’t been blogging much are twofold. Primarily, it’s because of school. Not that I can’t find a moment to jot down a few words, but because the nature of the studies and the desire I have to swallow them whole is making it difficult to imagine little bite-sized reflections on, say, whether or not I think Augustine or Pelagius or John Cassian got it right on original sin and good works. Or whether Constantine did more harm than good to the church, then and now. Or the beauty of icons and the sad human truth of schisms over what feels nothing like idolatry and everything like sacred art. At least to me. Since, as I progress in my theology studies, I tend to see things differently from week to week, and find myself forming ideas that the month before I didn’t even have the words to imagine, I think it’s best not to go on record with every passing thought. At least not yet.
The writer/actress/comedienne Susan Isaacs posted a great quote by Frederick Buechner yesterday:”Faith is different from theology because theology is reasoned, systematic, and orderly, whereas faith is disorderly, intermittent, and full of surprises… Faith is homesickness. Faith is a lump in the throat. Faith is less a position on than a movement toward, less a sure thing than a hunch. Faith is waiting.”
Which brings me to my second reason for being a preoccupied blogger lately. I was given a lovely gift a few weeks back in the form of an epiphany. Seven years ago I wrote a novel called The Pitcher’s Mom, based on all the years I’d spent around the game watching my son, Graham, and coming to understand the larger picture of what it is we hope for for our kids, and what it is they’re really meant to be and do, and how, as mothers, we help to navigate all that. It’s not a “true” story in the sense that it’s not my story, but it is a book that I believe will ring true to every mother who’s ever washed a Little League uniform. And perhaps, give us each a little peace as we envision all big dreams over the arc of a lifetime.
At the time, publishers—despite their fondness for it—wouldn’t take the risk. The numbers didn’t support it. Women, I was told, don’t buy books about baseball. Well maybe, I said, that’s because no one ever publishes baseball books from the woman’s point of view.
So now we have. Today you can click on the link above and read a sample chapter from The Pitcher’s Mom. By tomorrow, you can go to that same link and buy the actual eBook on Amazon for your Kindle. If you don’t own a Kindle you can download an app that will allow you to read it. You can also buy a copy and gift it to any baseball-loving moms in your life. I sure hope you do.
Until then, we continue our journey to Easter (and Opening Day), where each of us is given a clean slate and the promise of new life.
Heather Choate Davis 