Quaker Summer

A couple of years ago I was in Sam's Club. There was this huge can of hot chocolate, which cost almost $10. It was definitely something my family didn't need. It was also something I could not afford.

But I bought it.

Guilt not withstanding.

That day I talked to a good friend who lives out of state. We discussed our tendency to buy stuff we don't need, stuff not in the budget. She'd just done the same thing. For her it wasn't a $10 can of hot chocolate. It was a new sweater that cost closer to $100. She had a friend who purchased beyond her budget as well--only for that friend it was a new sofa, in the $1000 range.

As we talked, I realized the amount of the splurge didn't matter. That $10 I spent was no less a sin than the $1000 the sofa lady spent. The point is all three of us tried to fill a hole inside with something that didn't satisfy.

(Before you think I shouldn't feel badly about my $10 purchase, that I'm being hard on myself to call it a sin, I must tell you that I can nickel and dime my family to death, buying small purchases that are unnecessary and, believe me, they add up! The hot chocolate can is only one tiny example of my splurges.)

I tell you this story because Quaker Summer by Lisa Samson probes these issues and more. I didn't especially enjoy all the conviction I felt as I read, but I kept going because I believe it is an important book. It made me think about things I'd rather ignore--like my consumerism and tendency to fill my life with stuff instead of with Christ.

Like the plight of the poor and needy and how often I turn my head and heart from them because it's easier to bury my compassion than to act upon it.

Like how it's easier to write a check to World Vision than it is to get my hands dirty.

I usually devour novels in a sitting or two. This book took me a long time to read. I'm not sure of all the reasons. Perhaps I could only handle a little at a time because it dealt with hard issues that I would prefer not to dwell on. (Interestingly, my pastor has been preaching on similar issues for the past few months. *sigh*)

From a literary standpoint, Quaker Summer was filled with what I'll call Lisaisms--those little phrases or sentences groups that say something so well you have to pause, a bit breathless, and re-read them just for how they are written and the depth they explore. Lisaisms done as only Lisa Samson can write them.

Here's an example: "She leaves the bedroom, her pain tucked somewhere inside, her love shimmering on the surface like water beads after a summertime rain. A soft hint of her perfume lingers in the air around me. I press it down into my clothing."

Another: "The trees and their gnarled roots slide by, our boat lubricated by the water and the silence of Jolly, who's thinking about Helen, and Grandy, who'd thinking about his childhood, I suppose. I'm thinking about how the years go by so quickly and we sail right by so much, failing to recognize the intricate glory of it all.

"Sometimes we fail to notice a shadow darting through trees and jumping over the river just out of our gaze, until one day, we realize how precious these years are, how more precious the next ones will be, and how we'd better confront the shadow if we want to live in peace."

And another: "And then he left. And I swear, when he walked out that door, the delicate planes of his face hardened into concrete."

I can't resist one more: "The sounds of the Glenn Miller Orchestra and "Little Brown Jug" enliven the space, the piano's bass launching the piece, the throaty trombones grabbing the melody, the trumpets lying down on top for a breezy ride . . .

(Then two elderly sisters begin to dance)

"Their blue eyes sparkle, the notes settling upon their features like dew, their smiles stretching their faces young . . . I want to weep in the presence of these lives well lived. I'm witnessing the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I know it."

Lisa's metaphors, her way of painting a picture in my heart, take any story and crystallize it, capturing word beauty in a way I can only hunger to do.

That said, the first half of the book moves a little slowly, perhaps a necessary evil when painting broad strokes of a life lived skimming the surface and ignoring the depths. We had to see the main character as she was to appreciate who she becomes. The book is also a novel that has an obvious mission and on occasion its message feels a little blatant, but neither of these issues nullifies the story's beauty or importance. I know it is a book that will slip to the forefront of my mind over and over in the coming weeks. I don't think I can not begin a process of change after having been confronted by its truths.

Quaker Summer has both literary grace and spiritual candor. It belongs on every Christian readers "must read" list.