Meredith Martinez

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Heart Strings
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by Ivy Fairbanks (Goodreads Author)
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Value Sensitive D...
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See all 8 books that Meredith is reading…
Book cover for The Field Guide to Dumb Birds of North America
If you are like me, the observation of birds may well become a lifetime distraction and ultimately provide you with countless hours of profound irritation. If, on the other hand, you are already an experienced bird watcher, I’m sorry.
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Toni Morrison
“Me and you, we got more yesterday than anybody. We need some kind of tomorrow.”
Toni Morrison, Beloved

Russell D. Moore
“I couldn’t help but wonder if the plot twist to the story of American conservative Christianity was that what we thought was the Shire was Mordor all along.”
Russell Moore, Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call for Evangelical America

Russell D. Moore
“Those who can still feel shame, whose consciences are still vulnerable to conviction by the Holy Spirit, will then step back or step away, and the shameless will inherit, if not the earth, then at least the political party leadership or the congregation or the school board or the social media feed.”
Russell Moore, Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call for Evangelical America

J.C. Ryle
“Once sin is allowed to settle in your heart, it will not be turned out at your bidding. Custom becomes second nature, and its chains are not easily broken. The prophet has well said, "Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard its spots? Neither can you do good who are accustomed to doing evil" (Jeremiah 13:23). Habits are like stones rolling down hill--the further they roll, the faster and more ungovernable is their course. Habits, like trees, are strengthened by age. A boy may bend an oak when it is a sapling--a hundred men cannot root it up, when it is a full grown tree. A child can wade over the Thames River at its fountain-head--the largest ship in the world can float in it when it gets near the sea. So it is with habits: the older the stronger--the longer they have held possession, the harder they will be to cast out.”
J.C. Ryle, Thoughts For Young Men

Toni Morrison
“When warm weather came, Baby Suggs, holy, followed by every black man, woman, and child who could make it through, took her great heart to the Clearing--a wide-open place cut deep in the woods nobody knew for what at the end of the path known only to deer and whoever cleared the land in the first place. In the heat of every Saturday afternoon, she sat in the clearing while the people waited among the trees.

After situating herself on a huge flat-sided rock, Baby Suggs bowed her head and prayed silently. The company watched her from the trees. They knew she was ready when she put her stick down. Then she shouted, 'Let the children come!' and they ran from the trees toward her.

Let your mothers hear you laugh,' she told them, and the woods rang. The adults looked on and could not help smiling.

Then 'Let the grown men come,' she shouted. They stepped out one by one from among the ringing trees.

Let your wives and your children see you dance,' she told them, and groundlife shuddered under their feet.

Finally she called the women to her. 'Cry,' she told them. 'For the living and the dead. Just cry.' And without covering their eyes the women let loose.

It started that way: laughing children, dancing men, crying women and then it got mixed up. Women stopped crying and danced; men sat down and cried; children danced, women laughed, children cried until, exhausted and riven, all and each lay about the Clearing damp and gasping for breath. In the silence that followed, Baby Suggs, holy, offered up to them her great big heart.

She did not tell them to clean up their lives or go and sin no more. She did not tell them they were the blessed of the earth, its inheriting meek or its glorybound pure.

She told them that the only grace they could have was the grace they could imagine. That if they could not see it, they would not have it.

Here,' she said, 'in this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard...”
Toni Morrison, Beloved

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