A Crunch-Munch Experience!

So, the doorbell rings while I'm unloading the dishwasher. [Yes, I actually do know how to do that. And I can load it back up, too!] I open the door to find Mailman Rich walking back down my driveway, and a big box from Amazon on my doorstep, along with some mail.

[If your mail is like mine, the vast majority is junk. Please note that's not Rich's fault.]

[As a side note: were you aware that a land mass approximately the size of California is clear cut every day to produce those all-important privacy notices, credit-card solicitations, and political advertisements?]

[Okay, I just made that statistic up. Don't quote me or I'll send you a privacy notice. But back to the point . . .]

So, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a big box from Amazon. "Doris, did you order anything from Amazon? No? Neither did I. What's this?"

"Open it," she says. So I did. And oh, my, my my!

Someone saw my Facebook post about having exhausted my Crunch Munch supply--some wonderful, merciful, generous person. [And I really don't know who!]

[Honest, I didn't order it for myself!]

Here's the best part: it came with strict instructions printed on the case. Instructions I intend to fully comply with:

 Inside the carton was this wonderful sight:

Twelve boxes! Let's see, if my calculations are correct, in order to fully comply with the strict instructions, I'll be needing to eat a box a week in order to finish them by December 1.

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!

But how do you know they're not for Doris?, you ask.  Ha! Easy answer. My name was on the shipping label. But I will share. Thankfully, she's not quite the fan I am. [Oops. Did I really say that?]

This wonderful gift might require me to start running a little more faithfully each week, lest I begin wearing the stuff around my waist.

To my unknown benefactor: many, many thanks! This is going to fuel many late nights writing Outlander Chronicles: Icarus! [With coffee, of course.]

[Hmm. Wonder if I can work Crunch Munch into the story?]

Book Review: Zach Eswine's Spurgeon's Sorrows: Realistic Hope for those who Suffer from Depression

This is cherry-picking Spurgeon at his very best!

The term “cherry-picking” is often used pejoratively—I don’t use it that way here. Zach Eswine has mined Spurgeon’s sermons with the sort of care for detail a private investigator might employ in evaluating a target’s email. Spurgeon was both a sufferer of depression as well as a comforter of the depressed: he knows well of what he speaks. As Eswine demonstrates, the nineteenth-century “prince of preachers” provided a treasure-trove of wisdom regarding depression.

Like Spurgeon’s own experience of depression, Eswine’s book is for two audiences: counselors and the depressed, as is made clear from its organization. Part One has to do with understanding the dark pit of depression. Sufferers will find that they are reading an author who understands their despair. Eswine’s use of metaphor and his commentary on the Scripture’s use of metaphor turns his writing into a thing of sensitive beauty, although counselors might itch for him to get from description to prescription (an impatience the author warns us about).

Part Two, “Learning How to Help Those Who Suffer from Depression,” contains almost as many cautions for those seeking to help the depressed as it does positive directions for soul care. Chapter 7, “Helps that Harm” illustrates things not to do when caring for the depressed.

Eswine provides good advice for weary souls who find themselves in the black night of despair in Part Three: “Learning Helps to Daily Cope with Depression.” In his chapter “Natural Helps” the author makes a case for the judicious use of medicine, as well as other remedies such as laughter and times of rest. His chapter on suicide is gentle but firm.

This is an eminently usable volume: it is accessible to the average reader, it is full of excellent advice, heavily footnoted for those who wish to do extra study, and it’s brief (only 143 pages). It’s the sort of thing you can give a counselee or read yourself as a counselor. Eswine has done the world of Biblical Counseling a favor with this book; I recommend it highly. Five stars.

Review of Winston Groom's The Aviators

It takes a very skilled writer to accomplish what Winston Groom has done in The Aviators. He weaves the tales of Rickenbacker, Doolittle, and Lindbergh into seamless whole.

It’s a great book, filled with fascinating stories of perhaps the three most fascinating characters in the history of aviation, outside of the Wright brothers themselves. Groom tracks all three characters in a fairly tight chronology, writing a virtual biography of each man. The most confusing feature of the book for me will probably be the favorite feature for other readers: the accounts of the three are intertwined at the chapter level. This chapter might be devoted (wholly) to Lindbergh, the next chapter to Doolittle, and so on. It definitely holds your interest. But the net effect for me as a reader was that—other than the single major event that defined their lives (Rickenbacker: WWI ace; Lindbergh: first cross-Atlantic flight; Doolittle: the 1942 raid on Tokyo)—I became confused as to who did what. The three tales converge in World War 2, as each man has something of significance to contribute to the war effort.

Groom’s writing style is excellent. Rather than projecting the cold distance of the academician, the writing is warm and accessible, more of a story-telling format. The book is meticulously footnoted, and Groom does an good job of presenting both sides of points that are in dispute among historians. He’s not afraid to render his own ideas on the matter, even when disputing a majority opinion.

In a nice touch Groom takes each man’s story all the way to their death, and then writes a clear-eyed retrospective on their lives.

If you are researching the early days of aviation, or are merely fascinated by its history, this book is a must-read. Five stars.