There is something so graceful and neighborly about Katrina Kenison's writing that while reading this memoir, I often fell into thinking that I wouldn't mind living her life. When I snapped to, I realized, of course, that was sheer delusion: I didn't want to be the mother of two teenage sons; I didn't want to be suddenly fired; I didn't want to live with my husband's parents; and so on. What I did want to do was to live at the sane, perceptive pace of Kenison; to find a nesting place where troubles no longer distract me from being the person I can be. This sequel to Mitten Strings for God has a feel best understood perhaps by people who know first-hand what a changing experience mid-life can be.
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