I usually don’t write book reviews… Actually, I’ve never written a book review. But maybe I should from time to time. When a story hits you between the eyes it’s hard not to think about it. Talk about it. Write about it. Every mother should read this book.

But many won’t.

And here’s why: this is every mother’s nightmare come true.

But I found great comfort in this story because God was there. Hope was there. Love was there. It makes this book well worth reading. It’s a masterpiece on motherhood. Every mom I know will relate to this story.

In one day, I consumed it. A day I stayed on the couch because I didn’t feel good. Gave myself permission to be still and read. Something else I never do, read all day, but I’m trying to give myself grace. I want to grow in gentleness, not only with others, but with me.

Being a mother of boys does not feel gentle. It’s a rough and tumble, dirty, thankless job. On my hands and knees beside the toilet wiping up pee ten times a day. I think the toilet got its name from the word: toil. Boys are a lot of work. A lot of blow ’em up, tear ’em up, fart ’em up free-for-alls, but after reading Rare Bird, I pulled my sons closer, held them longer, loved them better. Because I have no guarantee I get to keep ’em.

The writer of Rare Bird lost her boy in a flash flood.

Not in Indonesia or India where mothers probably lose their children to monsoon weather, but in a suburban backyard in Virginia. Where my best friend from high school lives. My sister-in-law lives. Not far from the White House lawn. My point is, this was a freak accident in a safe neighborhood. Anna, the author of Rare Bird was a careful mother.

Control is an illusion, she says in her story, mothers really aren’t in control.

As moms we don’t want to hear this. We fight for control. Every. Damn. Day. I use this curse to prepare you for some of Anna’s curse words, but you won’t begrudge her these. Her story is real and raw and redemptive. About being a mother, a wife, a Christian. Anna’s like many of us, she goes to church, follows the rules, and expects her good, godly choices to keep her safe. Keep her family safe. But instead she finds herself forced to see God in a way she’s never seen Him before.

God’s bigger than Anna’s box.

Like control is an illusion, God is bigger than the boxes we try to keep Him in, Anna learns for herself and for us.

What I loved about Anna is she opens herself to meeting God on his terms, instead of hers. How many of us insist that God must be a certain way? That we must be a certain way? That our kids must be a certain way? Control, control, control, when what we really feel is fear, fear, fear.

We fear what God might do.

What we might do.

What our kids might do.

“I never wanted to run away from home until I became a mom,” a friend told me awhile back. We both laughed, but I think she was serious. Being a mother can be frightening, and in response to this unending anxiety, we long to run. Instead we run our kids and ourselves into the ground keeping everybody busy doing safe things. “She’s a helicopter mom,” I’ve heard time and time again, but what really hovers is fear.

Fear.

As a woman, as a mother, this has been my biggest battle. My child gets nosebleeds and I wonder if he has cancer. My boys climb trees and I yell, “Get down!” Thunder booms in the distance and I want to run onto the soccer field and tell the ref to cancel the game. I don’t know one person who’s been hit by lightening in California, but it can happen.

Lightening happens.

Just ask Anna. I thought her book would scare me more. But it didn’t. It eased my mother fear. Somehow she weaves a story of courage, grace, and God’s faithfulness. For all mothers. For all families. It’s a brave book. If you’re a mother embattled by fear, I urge you to read it.

Buy her book now: