From Heather King...

I sent an email to Heather King, introducing her to our group and letting her know that we are currently reading her book on her year with St. Therese, Shirt of Flame.

She wrote back! Here is her response:

"I am thrilled to know you all are reading Shirt of Flame in College Station, Texas! I want you to know I have driven across Texas twice, stopping over in such lovely towns as Austin, Ozona and Junction; getting to meet Fr. Ron Rolheiser in San Antonio; and doing a 40-day retreat on the Gulf Coast a couple of years ago...so this is a lovely connection and more to the point, I am always happy to meet a friend, or in this case friends of Therese. 

We all want to make a mark and it's such a consolation to remember that Christ will do that for us: in his time, in his way...

I love the C.S. Lewis quote. Books do that and so, in the end, does Church....

Thanks gals!

All best wishes,

Heather "

Introduction to Heather King

Heather King:
"My work is both Catholic and catholic, which is to say universal, all-inclusive: a thirst for communion, a pondering of the questions: Why are we here? Where did we come from? Where are we going?

Someone once asked me, "How could you become a Catholic in L.A.?" My answer is "How could you not become a Catholic in L.A.?" What better backdrop for reflection than the paradoxes of wealth and the poverty, beauty and broken dreams, the power and the glory of the City of Angels? What better place for the maddening, every-absorbing task of making my way as a human being and a writer than this fractured city of nine million other shining souls?

I'm a graduate of the University of New Hampshire and Suffolk Law School. Born and raised on the New Hampshire seacoast, I did a 10-year stint in Boston and moved to L.A. in 1990. Following a disastrous 4-year run as a Beverly Hills attorney, I quit my job, converted to Catholicism, and began writing. My commentaries have been aired on NPR's "All Things Considered"; my essays published, among other places, in The Los Angeles Times Magaizne, The Utne Reader, Commonweal, Notre Dame Magazine, Portland Magazine, and The Sun; and my work anthologized in the Best Spiritual Writing series 2002, 2005, and 2008. (click on dates for links).

I've received fellowships from the Djerassi Foundation, the Dorland Mountain Arts Colony, the Helene Wurlitzer Foundation, and the Ucross Foundation, and am a communicant at St. Basil's and St. Thomas the Apostle chruches in Koreatown, L.A." 

~ from heather-king.com

• Click here to view her professional site. 
• I've just finished listening to this podcast interview with Heather King regarding Shirt of Flame at 'Among Women'.  If you want to start at the Heather King interview, move along to around minute 26:00.
• And then, finally, you must read this article she wrote for Patheos.com on Ash Wednesday of last year.

"If you are lonely enough, and spiritually hungry enough, and desperate enough, you will eventually see a cross with a body on it, stop in your tracks and realize: That is me. " ~ Heather King

Lizzie's War Character Reflection: Fr. Zeke

“All things are interesting, in that sense. If you’re paying attention. That’s just the reality of the incarnation.” (p. 62)

Fr. Zeke is my favorite character. His struggle sums up the all of the ‘wars’ that take place throughout the story. Interestingly, Tim Farrington originally named the book "Careers of Faith". And, while I'm glad that title didn't stick, it makes clear what the book is about. Maybe too clear, and thus the title change. The book is about vocation. About embracing your 'war'. And letting it go. Fr. Zeke Germaine seems to be just that, distilled. No question. Warring with himself, his past, his suffering, his desires and his vocation to love.

(from just after he was wounded in the war, pg. 148. Italics are mine.)

"He was terrified but strangely calm, as he often was under intense fire. Combat was the world, and he was in the world but not of it. There was even an exhilaration to the experience; he'd never felt so free, so true and so real. The blazing adrenaline made him simple as a flame, all radiance and quiet heat, a lit place where everything was clear and all he could see, in perfect focus, was the next man in front of him in need of care and comfort. He didn't think much about dying himself. Death came, in such a place, or it didn't. That was in God's hands."

These two scenes captivated me: The Pastoral Care meeting at Priscilla Starkey's parlor and the Bingo game at St. Jude's.  Fr. Zeke travels between the base reality of the present: who should receive which leftover altar flowers and who's cheating at bingo, to the deep love of a priest acting "in personal Christi" and loving his flock. Remembering the death of a good man, Mr. Condotti and his compassion for hard-of-hearing old Mrs. Malewich in her wheelchair who just wants to win one durn bingo game. And, interestingly, Mrs. Starkey is the instigator in both scenes, as dull and uninspired as her weak coffee.  What beautiful, delicate contrast. How real. Hasn't every priest been here? And, do they pray the words of St. Peter, too? 

Baby Anna and Fr. Zeke share a birthday. This really didn't stand out at me until reading the book again, this third time through. Is it stretching too much to think there is some connection there, with the birth and death of this little innocent baby and Fr. Zeke's ability to find "what it takes to make a human being into a priest"?  In a way, it is because of Anna that Fr. Zeke finds freedom from his feelings for Liz.  Our last view of him is at the front door of Lizzie's house, saying good-bye, no longer full of craving and dread. " 'I might come by on Saturday,' he said.  'The lawn could use mowing'... Germaine smiled. He still wanted to kiss her. He probably always would. The only difference now was that he knew it would never happen. Something had changed between them, in that hospital room. He was, forever, the man who had given last rites to her daughter. And soon enough he would be the man who had sent the pictures of her dead baby to her husband. And he thought, So this is what it takes to make a human being into a priest. 'Okay, then,' he said. 'I'll see you Saturday.' "

One last Fr. Zeke moment. Liz and Fr. Zeke start talking about the weather (p. 104):

Fr. Zeke: “ ‘I’m ready for some real fall, to tell you the truth. I don’t do well in the heat.'

'That must have made Vietnam tough for you.'

'That, and all those young men dying.'

So much for talking about the weather, Liz thought. Conversation with Germaine was like hiking on a glacier; things had a way of falling through the covering of small talk into dauntingly deep crevasses."

Lizzie's War

I'm interested to hear your thoughts about the book, Lizzie's War by Tim Farrington.

Who is, in your opinion, the most interesting character, and why?

(post answers in comments)

Don't mind me, I'm moving to Virginia...

Check it OUT!

Class: Introduction to Fiction Writing with Tim Farrington

"We all have stories to tell, whether we are aiming for short stories or novels, and in this class we will begin to explore both the fundamentals of craft and the even more crucial challenge of carving out a space for yourself as an artist. We will work at every level with your stories, from the mystery of the creative impulse itself to the logistics of getting a character from one end of the room to another. We will study excerpts from the fiction masters to see what we can learn and what we can copy. With any luck, we'll also have some fun getting to know each other and ourselves along the way. Come join us! Your instructor will make every effort to tailor the submission schedule to your goals."

Mondays, 10 a.m.-12:30 p.m.
an 8 week session beginning February 6

From Catholicism, to Hinduism and back home again...

This snippet of an interview with Tim Farrington gives us a glimpse into the part of him that made Lizzie's War come to life:

"I was raised Catholic, the oldest of four children. My father was a Marine Corps officer who served in Korea and Vietnam, and my mother was an actress and drama teacher, so I had plenty to reconcile right from the start. I had several years of Catholic school in the classic Catholic experience, including a good dose of the terror of hell and sin, and nuns with sticks, but I was also blessed in having an aunt who was a nun, and I spent a lot of happy hours at her convent and got to know the human and fun-loving side of religious vocation as well.

I was an altar boy right around the time the mass switched from Latin to English after Vatican II, and thought about being a priest for a while when I was a kid. In my teens, though, I got into Buddhism, philosophy, and literature, and went through a long period of alienation from Christianity. But I was definitely looking hard for meaning.

In my twenties, I entered an ashram in Oakland, CA, where the prevailing philosophy was Hindu, Kashmir Shaivism. Strangely enough, it was during my two years there, while I was chanting to Kali and Krishna, meditating to an Om Namah Shivaya mantra, and chopping tons of vegetables in the ashram kitchen, that I discovered the profundity of the classic Christian mystics, beginning with The Cloud of Unknowing, and began to heal my alienation from that tradition. By the early ’90s I had come full circle, had discovered the bottomless wisdom of John of the Cross, and had embraced a centering prayer practice after meeting Fr. Thomas Keating."

If you'd like, you can read the entire interview here.

Lizzie's War

"Farrington's resolve is physically embodied by his two-inch-thick file, dating back 18 years, of ideas, sketches, notes, and quotations (there's one at the beginning of each chapter) for Lizzie's War. '[The book] felt enormous to me ... it covered a bigger canvas, and I consciously committed to it. It's so close to my heart, the theme of sacred vocation, of finding your calling in the world.' "  Linda M. Castellitto and Tim Farrington on Lizzie's War

 Are you reading Lizzie's War yet? I hope so.

It's an interesting book. Probably one of the easiest reads we have on the list. Easy in terms of reading level, sentence complexity, etc...

On the other hand, it might be one of the most difficult to read emotionally. At least, I think so. Even this being my third reading of the novel, I find myself both dreading to pick it up and dreading to put it down.

So real, and raw. 'True' is a good word to describe the book. Nothing happens for shock value. It's just the story of these very real people. And it's hard to believe that they aren't really alive somewhere right now. Could they really be made up? Fictitious? Can Liz not come over for coffee tomorrow morning? Did they really all come out of Tim Farrington's imagination? And how does this guy know so very well what goes on in the mind and soul of a woman. HOW!??

After I gave this book to a friend a few years ago, I called her up a few days later with an apology. "I'm sorry for all the cussing. I forgot about that."  She wasn't fazed by it. I'm not going to apologize now. Not that I go around my house in secret swearing like a sailor. I don't. I don't like cussing at all. But in reference to this book, and to the character of Mike in particular, I think it would be dishonest to portray him in any other way. If you were a man fighting in Vietnam in the 60's, you used bad language. To have him speak in any other way would be outside his character. And such a character he is... don't let his f-bombs keep you from loving him!

And, I won't apologize for Liz's attitude toward her pregnancy in the beginning of the book (no spoilers here). While it might not be the 'text book' response that we as Catholic women would want to hear from a friend, I think it is a very honest emotion, and probably an emotion that has been felt by millions of women in the past.

It all comes around. It does. Don't worry.

So, enjoy! Can't wait to meet up soon!

If you want to comment on your thoughts and have a bit of a spoiler, just place above the revealing paragraph <SPOILER>.

Fire

When it comes to lists, I am late to that of the bucket variety.   I do, however, have a Fire List.   I suppose it's no more morbid than a list that centers around the certainty of death.   As I show people various keepsakes in my home, I will often describe things as being on the list of things that, in the event of a fire, I would attempt to save.   There is a presumption here that this would only occur after every person is safely out of the house.

The criteria for the list is necessarily simple and rooted in sentiment, not a surprise for those who know me.   Items must be small/light enough to carry out easily and they must be of significant meaning in my life.   A certain antique box filled with original family photos of stern-looking pioneers, pleated-skirt & saddle-oxford-clad girls, and baby images of those who are now grandparents.   A hand-stitched beaded sampler that took my friend, Amber, a year to complete.   And my set of Little House on the Prairie books, a Christmas present when I was seven-years-old.

Worn and faded, they thrill my heart and prompt a slight caress as I pass my bookshelf.   For me, they contain the wonder of words, a child's discovery of transportation possible without moving.   They are comfort, as they were for me throughout my childhood--another world of love and order in the midst of our own family's dysfunction, the nobility of work and the beauty of the hidden--in deed and thought.   They are respect for children in the way they are written.   They are pride in and a link to my own pioneer ancestors and beauty in the ordinary.   They are portraits of recognizable people and recorded images of cozy quilts, food prepared with love, and hospitality.    They are my secret aspirations as a daughter, wife, mother, friend, and citizen.

I spent countless hours returning to these books between the new ones I read.   When I can't sleep at night because of worry or just exhaustion,  I still turn to these familiar pages instead of my current read, and I find myself calmed for sleep.    I list many novels as favorites, influential, life-changing and I love them as dear friends.   They are all real in my life, their characters' influence traceable in my thoughts and actions.   They aren't all on my Fire List though, because for me, any copy of them will do.   In the case of my Little House set, it is the volumes themselves, not just what they contain, which have concrete meaning for me.

As I think about it, though, this set of books also represents solitude for me.   Life as almost an only child, with a sister ten years my senior, a room to myself instead of one shared with a sibling and quiet, with only my own thoughts to consider.   I longed for the activity and noise of the family reflected on the pages of these books and I now have all the noise and action for which any only or near-only child could hope.   The solitary aspect of literature is not enough.   We were made for communion and fellowship--with God and each other.    We each have special viewpoints and contributions.

So, I look forward to this book club.   It is an amazing group of women for whom reading is necessity and succor.   These kindred spirits are a miracle to me.    I rejoice in their love of the written word, their understanding of truth to be found in the most ordinary of places, and their fearlessness when it comes to art and the world--a fearlessness grounded in faith.

My child's heart finds comfort in well-worn volumes of pioneer tales.  I need this book club as a time specially set aside for my mature heart to regularly find meaning and comfort through the insights and reflections of a collection of women, each with her own faith, story, and unique purpose.   From Fire List to a flame lit--to kindle pondering, fellowship, and lofty thoughts that bring our minds to God and transform our deceptively simple-looking lives with His reality.