One chapter in, I knew this book would be life-changing.
For about three years, I have battled with grief and faith as opposing forces. I lost friends in the year of 2019, not all to death. Some to betrayal, some to the unknown, where I do not know if they are dead or alive and may never find out. And Rachel's death was particularly hard for me. I felt ashamed of how devastated I was. I was not her sister, her best friend, her family, what right did I have to grieve for her? My grief was a pebble to the landslide her circle was going through. But I still mourned and I was still furious with God. My last memory of Rachel is asking her to pray for one of my lost friends and her pausing in the midst of signing my book, in the middle of a line that wrapped around the building, to take my hands in prayer and ask God for protection of my friend. How dare God take her away. It wasn't fair. It would never be fair.
And so I developed a bitterness towards God for all that He'd taken from me and from others. Rachel's family didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve it. Where was God?
I never considered grief and faith as a harmony. And that is what Amanda's book achieves, it balances the raw agony of grief into a melody that faith intersects with. God does not battle the grief, He winds his way around it, wraps it into a song that I am still learning to sing.
Unsurprisingly, I cried several times during this book. Amanda's moments of vulnerability that she shares with the courage of a thousand armies, her thoughtful reflections on the myth of the bereaved Mis in the monstrousness of her grief and the love that brought her back to humanity, and perhaps the hardest for me to read--the questions, the peace, and the prayers that I'd so firmly raged against. I was Mis, screaming at the faith I was raised in, tearing any overtures from God to pieces.
This is a book that I will sit with for a long time, that I will return to when grief and death and loss make their inevitable intrusions into my life again and again and again. Rachel Held Evans was the C.S. Lewis of our time, but Amanda's book is the "A Grief Observed" of our time, one of the most important books I've ever read, a book that has rearranged spaces in my soul I thought I'd effectively destroyed.
There is no one answer to Amanda's grief or to mine. But her book reminds us that there can be communion and healing in ritual, in fellowship, in stories, in laughter--there can be life, if we choose to seek it.