Friday, February 7, 2014

The Fault In Our Stars


Sadness. Humor. Despair. More Humor. Devastation. Sobbing. Gut-wrenching, shoulder-jerking sobs. Hope. Happiness. More Sadness. Laugh. Cry. Laugh. Cry.

emotionally. exhausted.

Here's what I can tell you. Don't read the book while sitting in the chair at the beauty salon unless you are fully comfortable with baring your soul to not only your hairdresser, but also the complete strangers who will not begin to understand why tears are flowing down your cheeks and your shoulders are shaking uncontrollably.

Don't read the book in bed late at night if you happen to have a loft bedroom without any doors (really, who builds a bedroom with no door?) and two teenage sons downstairs who will be overly concerned about their mother, who was fine an hour ago, sobbing and using up all the tissues in the middle of the night.

Here is the thing. The book is about cancer. KIDS with cancer, no less. I have been blessed to have two healthy sons and to be healthy myself. It is entirely possible that some life-shattering disease will strike one of us at some point in our lives, but I prefer not to consider that. The fact that we are a healthy family made it possible for me to get through this book and enjoy it, even the devastating parts. If I had a child with cancer, I'm just not sure. I'm not sure if this book would help or hurt. I can't make that judgment. I pray that I never can.

But it is certainly one of those books that should be on your list. And not just because it's set in my home state or because it references Rik Smits.

Just make sure you have plenty of tissues handy. Probably more than one box.

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