"Look at the birds" Through the painful days of the pandemic stuck in her home, Courtney Ellis found herself looking down in despair. Soon after, her beloved grandfather died unexpectedly. It was around this same time that Ellis took up watching birds. "Took up" might not be exactly right―as she puts it, "the switch flipped," and she’s been borderline obsessed with birds ever since. Looking Up is a meditation on birding as a practice of hope. Weaving together stories from her own life, including the death of her grandfather, with reflections on birds of many kinds, Ellis invites us to open our eyes to the goodness of God both in the natural world and in our own lives. By "looking up" to the birds, Ellis found the beauty and wonder of these creatures calling her out of her darkness into the light and hope of God's promises.
Author, speaker, and mom of three, Courtney Ellis serves alongside her husband as a pastor in southern California. Born in the northern woods of Wisconsin, she graduated from Wheaton College, Loyola U of Chicago, and Princeton Theological Seminary. Her books include "Uncluttered: Free Your Space, Free Your Schedule, Free Your Soul," "Almost Holy Mama," and "Happy Now: Let Playfulness Lift Your Load and Renew Your Spirit."
Courtney's passions are to find freedom through practicing Christian simplicity, to give and receive hospitality, to play continually, and to live missionally while inviting others to do the same. She also loves candy and hates being told by her dentist that she should eat less candy.
Courtney's words have been featured in Fathom, Christianity Today, MOPS International, (in)courage, The Glorious Table, Huffington Post, The Mighty, Two Peas in a Podcast, Woven, More Than This, and more.
For one thing, I had to write the darned thing for months and months. Do you know what's hard to do while you're writing a book? Go birding. I will never get those rare warbler sightings back. I guess it's okay, though, because writing about warblers is *almost* the same as seeing them? (Who am I kidding.)
I loved this book most of the time. Other times I hated it. That's the thing about writing. It's like your best friend in all the world, until it isn't. And when it isn't, there's nothing to do but eat too many Sour Patch Kids and look out the window remembering all the birds you could be seeing if you weren't 30,000 words behind your deadline.
I give this book five stars and minus sixty-eight rare warblers that went unspotted. A good trade-off? You read it and tell me.
I enjoyed this book quite a lot- especially once I reengaged through the audiobook after buying the paperback several months ago. The bird call sounds, along with Ellis’s own voice sharing about her grief, enhanced the experience.
While her passion for birds is obvious, I felt like the connections made with faith/grief were both fair and accurate. Sometimes I find that very specific topics (like birding) can be chosen as a quirky, catchy theme, but quickly abandoned/stretched to make a faith-focused point, but Looking Up struck a good balance. The three issues of birding, faith, and grief had a strong and consistent interplay throughout. I loved the personal narrative and the choices Ellis made about how to combine and draw each aspect of her story together.
I have minimal interest in birding, but I love nature more generally and read a lot in the areas of faith and grief. This book is one I would recommend to a wide range of folks across different backgrounds and believe it could be enjoyed by most.
My friend Courtney Ellis has both done it again—creating a work of heart and hope—and done it better than ever. This is a book for the birders, no doubt. But it's also a book for people like me, who are not really moved by birds but find expression for grief and hope and doubt and love through their own particular affections. If you care deeply about any one thing, or want to, this is a book for you.
I love birding, and I am in a season of grief, so this book spoke to me in many ways. I appreciated the notes about how birding/being in nature helped her focus and process her grief. It was too preachy/religious for my taste.
“This story is about birds, yes, but even more than that it is about paying attention to grief as an avenue toward hope.” — Courtney Ellis
In her book, Courtney Ellis writes about a spark bird that gets someone into birding. My own bird was that for me. He also recently passed away after 30 years which has brought me into a season of grieving as well.
But I’ve long paid attention to birds and to their songs, or to simple moments seeing them when God seems to grace me with a reminder of His care as one lands on a window sill. The beauty of goldfinches amazes me. And waterfowl at the lake in our town have always captured my heart.
That said, this book is not just for birders. It interweaves birds with real life grief and other experiences, calling the reader to practice paying attention. Maybe something like birding (but not necessarily that) will help you through grief or hopelessness.
“Looking Up” is beautifully written and will keep you up at night to finish chapter after chapter. And it might just get you into birding or at least fascinate you with interesting bird facts in the midst of bringing you hope in your grief.
Total: 4.5 stars
Readability: 5 Impact: 5 Content: 4 Enjoyment: 4
TW: Occasional cuss words, which disappointed me but did not detract from what I gleaned from the book.
Highlights:
“Tuning in to the beauty and wonder of nature means we will also not escape its horrors.”
“That, too, is part of the grief: we all want to help, to save everyone in this room from the anguish that is to come, but there is nothing more anyone can do. Being present in pain is all we have.”
“Grief unmoors us. It throws us off balance. It crumbles away what we once thought was certain. It can push us to the edge of who we are until we topple over into the chasm beyond.”
“The aching reality is that the battle lines of violence and fear, suspicion and bitterness, death and destruction are not just out there. They run right through the center of each beating human heart. Through mine. Through yours. Through our lowest impulses and our secret sins as we choose who we will serve, this day and every day As we choose, much more often than we should, to serve and honor our idols.”
“Grief can turn us inward, and I can't tell whether its selfishness or survival. Maybe it's both.”
Thank you NetGalley, for allowing me to listen to the audio version of this audiobook!
As a bird enthusiast, I LOVED this book. The author did such a great job narrating. The book cover is STUNNING. It was so fun to have the bird song recordings from Cornell woven throughout as well!
While I thoroughly enjoyed parts of this book, I found other sections to be a bit naive and far too saccharine. For example—perhaps if you’ve been spared from experiencing too much grief close to home, you have the privilege of shielding your young ones from learning about the brokenness of the world at a young age—but that’s just not an option for everyone.
Also—prior to listening to this book, it never occurred to me that something as sweet as birding could be tied to politics, but this book managed to do just that.
While I don’t share all the same beliefs and certainly cannot relate to all the life experiences of Ellis, I still enjoyed many parts of this book. I can’t recommend this to everyone, but there are many who will get a lot out of this book
From the moment I heard about this book, I was thrilled. The combo of a shepherding, pastoral heart, with a growing passion for birding feels like the best of different worlds. It reads of kindness, of hope, of walking with a friend. An excellent gift for someone who's walking through a difficult season.
I already listen to Courtney Ellis' podcast, The Thing with Feathers and could not wait to read this book. While reading it, I could hear the same tone of positivity and hope and, of course, wonderment about birds that she regularly delivers. The book is so much about hope and it contains so many facts about birds that are woven seamlessly into things in life that pertain to all of us. The book is an open look into a family and into community. It gives great food for thought about what the natural world provides for all of us and how we can connect and employ what lessons nature has for us.
Thanks to the author, publisher, and NetGalley for the ARC.
Dreadful things occurred during the Covid pandemic. A marvelous thing also happened that continues to flourish. Millions of people are discovering nature - forests, rivers, lakes, mountains. There is a significant worldwide increase in birdwatching. Moreover, according to an essay in Scientific Reports, “everyday encounters with birdlife were associated with time-lasting improvements in mental well-being.” When asked why birds bring such delight, scientists say that listening and looking at them releases some level of wonder that calms the mind and lifts the spirit. As a life-long birder who can recall my “spark bird,” I agree. I’ve also been a pastor for half my life. These two realities drew me to this book.
Courtney Ellis, a pastor and a new birder, recounts her experience falling in love with birds. She shares her delight with birding, weaving particular knowledge of birds into a memoir of grief, attending her beloved dying grandfather. It’s a rare book that combines the threads of pastoral theology and practice, personal grief and a knowledge of birds that provides a doorway into a wider world of God’s creation. Testifying to her wonder, Ellis gushes, “The more I fall in love with birds, the more I grow to love the whole of creation, standing in awe of the one who spun it all into being.” Effortlessly, the reader moves along with the author as she discusses the pressures of preparing for Holy Week while grieving, seamlessly guiding us into a discussion of the behavior of birds that sheds fresh insight on caring for those grieving. Discussing the Laysan Albatross, who mate for life, she says, “every person is grieving. Every person in our pews. To live is to experience loss. To love is to experience it all the more. Sometimes I wish grief was a visible as an albatross-around-the-neck, like a necklace. It would makes us kinder.”
Those yearning to deepen their experience with creation will be delighted by Ellis’ capacity to learn from her birding adventures. She writes “I love that birding is an exercise in delight, wonder and gratitude.” Echoing Mary Oliver and Simone Weil, “[Birding] teaches me to pay attention, and attention, I think is at the very heart of what it is to be a person.” That is what this book is ultimately about: becoming a person fully alive; present to creation and present to other human beings, particularly those who are suffering. Once you are capable of paying attention in a particular way, it strengthens the capacity to pay attention to life - and death. Encouraging her readers mired in struggle, she quotes Wendell Berry: “be joyful, though we’ve considered all the facts.”
Ellis made a creative narrative structure for her blend of theology, ornithology, pastoral practice and relationships. The chapters feature thirteen birds, some common to everyone like the blue jay, mockingbird, and sparrows, others not so much like quail, warblers or albatrosses. Each chapter weaves knowledge of the species into reflections on compassionate care and personal grieving. The knowledge is a doorway to her experiences with grief and hope. This is a birder-pastor at the height of her skills. Read this book for the birds. Read it for the memoir. Read it that you may flourish in God’s creation.
Ellis is relatively new at birdwatching, but has been a part of ministering to people for a number of years in various ways. Her first forays into birding were a source of great humor in Twitter. Ellis was very open about the difficulty of balancing parenting, ministry and long distance grieving. And running to see a bird rare in California -- where a kind stranger let her hang out to see a particular specimen drawing people in to the neighborhood from all over California.
At her encouragement, several us took up a Lenten practice of pausing for a few minutes to listen and look for birds. In my case, squirrels were about all that showed up some days. Being still, however, translated well whether the birds showed up.
Looking Up is a series of essays that look at the characteristics of a particular bird. The lessons are part science, part therapy, part grief negotiation.
Perhaps the highest praise I can provide is that my bookmark is a palm frond. It's a rare distinction in my personal library. It marks a book that I will return to often for strength in that day, in that hour, in that moment. I view the book as a part of my cancer recovery journey.
A year ago, I was starting my radiation treatment. A source suggested seeking out beauty to connect the mind, body and soul during the cancer process. Sight unseen, I went to a park near the Center. Walking in, I saw a warning sign for Red-winged Blackbirds that were being very fierce about their territory. I took a few pictures. I would have ignored them prior to Ellis' Tweets.
Knowing more after reading, I plan to stop by as a part of my upcoming Cancerversary. I learned a lot more than facts from Ellis. I learned about hope.
Thanks so much to Netgalley for allowing me an ARC of this book in exchange for my honest review!
Unfortunately, I decided to DNF this book. 😅 I was initially drawn in by the title of the book… ironically, the phrase “Looking Up” has held much significance to me, and I was intrigued by how the author describes joining bird watching with grief, hope and her journey through that. I personally am not a bird watcher, but do enjoy nature and animals. But the bird watching knowledge just felt very foreign to me; and therefore it made it very difficult for me to feel invested in this book. But I think any bird watcher would be interested in this book! We all deal with grief, and I do wish I read a little more on that in the portion of the book I did read. I hope to maybe revisit this book sometime down the road, but it just wasn’t for me during this season of life.
This book is a tender, funny, and wise companion on the journey of grief and life. I personally adore books that make me both laugh and cry - and this book did that. I love Ellis' sense of humor and the weaving in of stories, anecdotes, and information about birds among her own stories in the book, particularly the story of her relationship with her grandfather and grieving that loss. The author shows up as herself and I felt like I was conversing with a friend. I am a better person for having read this book-and I learned more about birds.
I am not a huge fan of christian books, but I have to say that I absolutely LOVED this one. I could relate with many things: being a birder, christian and also a pastor kid (which makes me familiar with the pastoral work). I really enjoyed reading it and I had highlighted so many parts. I think is interesting how the pastoral job is described (joyful yet hard) because I heard so many comments about the hard part and burned out pastor that reading Courtney’s perspective made me see something easily covered by the bad things. Not to mention all the relatable birding content. I am bird enthusiast, now I am even more if thats possible. I recommend this book to everyone even to non birders.
I LOVED this book. So much I bought it! It will be a great book to pass around. It is very faith focused, so if you aren’t into that, heads up. Even though it is mostly about the authors loss of a grandparent, it is so much more. Lots of places I wanted to highlight-and I couldn’t in my library copy. It might be a yearly read for me. You don’t have to be in a season of intense grief to read or enjoy it.
I laughed, I cried and I learned so much about birds. And Jesus. And what it means to have hope in grief. I appreciated the author's format on reflecting on the life, loss and grief associated with her grandfather, mixed with her own faith/life reflections, facts about a variety of birds, and reflections on loss. I am looking forward to checking out her podcast!
Looking Up is one of those books that you keep reading in spite of yourself, because you know you’re going to finish it quickly but you don’t want it to end. It is a joy to read. Listeners to Pastor Ellis’ podcast, “The Thing with Feathers,” will hear her voice as they read.
This book is about birds. It is about grief. It’s about hope. But it is also an invitation into a slower life, one that embraces both the beauty and the suck, because it is in these places that we discover God is with us. (And has been. We just don’t always notice.)
I enjoyed learning about many different kinds of birds, and I found Courtney’s delight contagious. I hope you will read this book. It is a gift!
I love birds. And analogies. And I'm grieving. But I guess I'm not a big memoir person. So the pieces didn't quite fit for me as I had hoped they would.
Courtney Ellis weaves a series of birds into a grander narrative of hope and grief on the occasion of her grandfather's death. Along the way, that story draws in other childhood memories, life adventures, and tales from the pastorate, each chapter linked through the metaphors of bird. The result is stirring; she lets the reader wrestle with grief but — at the same time — encourages them to look up.
There's a lot going on in this book, and some great faith footholds whether you're "into birds" or not. Grateful to discover a fellow Presbyterian pastor birder writer!
Summary: A birder’s guide to hope through grief consists of reflections on various birds as the author grieves a grandfather’s death.
Birders speak of “spark birds” that first turned them on to birding. For Courtney Ellis, it was a phoebe, perched on her backyard string lights. A friend identified it. She writes:
“What I did know, in those very first moments, was that this little bird had unexpectedly captivated me. For a moment the volume turned down on my shouting to-do list and clamoring young children and creaky house projects and pinging work emails, and it was just me and this bird. A moment in time. A breath. Delight.
“In that moment, I looked up.”
She joined birding groups, bought binoculars and guides and downloaded apps. She learned the patience required of birding…and the wonder. These were lessons in attentiveness that spilled over into the rest of life as a pastor and parent. As acquainted with the griefs of others as she was as a pastor, she did not realize how important the lessons of looking up at the birds would become when the news came that her grandfather was dying.
In this book, Ellis takes us through her process of grief as she rushes home to spend time with her grandfather, only to find him sinking much faster than expected. While gathering with family, she remembers her grandfather, including many incidents of her childhood. An outdoorsman, he shaped her love of the natural world. As many of us do, she reckons with both his admirable and less than admirable qualities. She parts hours before his death to partake in Easter services. Then she grieves. Coming out of COVID, the church grants her and her husband sabbatical. During this time she had lost her voice. And, drawing on an idea from John Stott, another avid birder, the birds become her teachers.
In each chapter, Ellis interleaves her journey with reflections upon a particular kind of bird. Vultures symbolize death and they are the janitors of the natural world. Yet there is marvel in a physiology that allows them to ingest rotting carrion without being sickened. Then sparrows, so commonplace and ubiquitous, remind her of how much of life is lived in ordinary time, that it is often in the commonplace that we meet God. She reflects: “Blue Jays may not be good to other birds, but they are very good at being themselves. And this is its own kind of beauty.” As she thinks of her grandfather, she sees that he had his own kind of beauty as well.
In addition to these birds, we are introduced to mockingbirds, owls, house finches, hummingbirds, warblers, albatrosses, wrens, doves, pelicans, and quail. In her grief journey she learns that “looking up” doesn’t remove the hurt of grief but points us to the one who cares for the birds, and notes the falling of even one sparrow.
There is an understated beauty beneath the attentive observation of the birds and the unvarnished account of her grief. While pointing us toward healing and hope, there are no sappy assurances or sweet nostrums. But there is the wonder of the birds in all their variety, (And there is even an appendix for those who for whom this book is a kind of “spark bird” to take up birding.) Most of all, we have the chance to listen to one who has not only looked outward at the human condition and inward at the darkness of her her own grief. We also accompany her as she looks upward, not only at the birds but at the God who made them.
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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.
This unique memoir combines the author's love of birding with her reflections on grief and loss, and even though it sounds like an incredibly niche book, it deals with universal topics in a way that can appeal to a broad audience. During the pandemic, Courtney Ellis began noticing the birds that had always been in her family's backyard, and she began birding as a way to connect with nature and God during such a difficult time. This became a full-blown obsession, and she shares her passion and enthusiasm for birds throughout this book without overdoing it for non-birders. Each chapter covers a different bird variety, and she intersperses nonfiction information about this bird with her personal narratives, drawing out metaphorical connections between that bird and the human experience.
The book is somewhat non-linear, moving back and forth between birds and different chapters of Ellis's life. The primary focus is her grief over losing her grandfather during the pandemic, and she writes about her experience traveling home to say goodbye and dealing with this loss. She also includes stories from her childhood and young adult years, and she shares narratives and life lessons from her experiences as a pastor, particularly since her profession involves so much proximity to death and the dying. Ellis draws out powerful spiritual truths in every chapter, and writes in a way that is heartfelt and honest, exploring hard things in a disarming way.
Looking Up: A Birder's Guide to Hope Through Grief is powerful and moving, and I deeply enjoyed it. I wasn't sure what to expect from this, since my interest in birds is fairly middling, but I found the bird sections fascinating. Also, even though I sometimes felt confused about where we were in the timeline, since Ellis would often weave in and out of stories from different stages of her life, I really appreciated the heartfelt stories she shared. Her writing really resonated with me, and even with the occasional cases where I disagreed with some of her thoughts, I enjoyed her beautiful reflections on so many different ideas, experiences, and struggles. I don't reread books as often as I used to, since I always have so many new things to read, but this is something that I expect to return to in the future, and I definitely recommend it.
I received an ARC from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
It wasn't until I cracked open this book, traveling at Ellis's side on this journey of grief and restoration, that I understood "Looking Up" to be a pun. For a bird book that's not really (or not just) a bird book, it is remarkably well-sourced and loaded with ornithological trivia: an extraordinary amount of looking-up went into the development of this book. Yet none of the trivia comes off as triviAL. A tribute to Ellis's skill as an author, the avian insights on not merely tacked on, they are woven in –– go ahead and try to find the seams. And they are indeed real insights on behavior that blend our best understanding from the ornithological literature with the author's own experience of brooding vultures or plucky chickadees.
The writing is intensely personal as Ellis describes the joys and struggles of a busy, modern, American life as a working woman who is simultaneously mother, wife, daughter, granddaughter, sister, friend, counselor, and pastor to an entire community of people. Each of those relationships is explored with humor and grace. We are all different things to different people. We all have loved ones; we all experience loss. The specific anecdotes are events in the author's life, but she masterfully writes about us through the lenses of her own eyes.
For secular readers who might be hesitant that Looking Up is "too religious", it's not. Scriptural references abound, but all are presented with just enough exposition for the point to be appreciated no matter one's familiarity with the referenced text. Even the inside baseball of *green as the color of Ordinary Time* is developed and explained, unfurling like a new leaf for any uninitiated reader. Ellis is at no point preachy; she is uncommonly good at this, y'all.
The main thread of Looking Up chronicles a panoply of emotions surrounding the death of the author's beloved grandfather. For every one, there is a bird. They're not shoehorned into the story, they are vignettes of observations that can tether us when we feel adrift. I feel that. At every point in my life at which I've faced a challenge of death or loss or uncertainty, I've sought birds. I didn't become a lifelong birder for the purpose of relieving stress or clearing my head or helping me endure difficult times, but that's what has happened. Birds don't exist to make us happier, or wiser, or more fulfilled, but they do. In this lovely book, Courtney Ellis illustrates and explores that phenomenon, and it's wonderful.