Despite the views of critics, I watched Eat, Pray, Love at the movie theater because I have a soft spot for romantic stories and lush scenery. Not to mention my movie buddy and I needed something to watch for our quarterly trip to the movies together. This was the most promising flick at the time. We both agreed after watching the movie that it was o.k. Not great, but o.k. And, maybe a little bit too much sweetness and light.
The movie, and ensuing critical reaction intrigued me enough to read the book. It was a head trip. My husband is REALLY glad that it is over. And I gave myself The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins as a reward (which is a really, really good book).Interestingly enough, I wrote this blog on the middle section of a church bulletin. Yes, I wrote it during church. I wrote it there because what was going on in my mind as I read this book was far more fascinating to me than what was going on in the book. Frankly, I am disturbed by this book. I went to church and sat for an hour with God trying to figure out why.
At the time, I was only part-way through Italy. I've talked to friends who stopped after reading Italy, unable to proceed. I eventually finished Italy, drug my eyeballs through the unyielding, suffocating sand of India (only out of respect for Richard from Texas) and swam through Bali like a boat wreck victim desperately trying to reach the shore. I read my words after I finished the book and they still apply. Here they are (with a few edits):
First of all, I have to give creedence and kudos to a woman who lays her heart out there for people. One of the biggest fears in life is to be exposed, naked showing all your warts, scars and imperfections. Because people look at them, comment on them, judge them. Marian Write Edelman once said, "If you're afraid of criticism, don't say anything, don't do anything, and don't be anything." God bless this woman for not being afraid.
And God, as the author has learned, isn't human. He is, as the author states, magnificent. "Oh Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!" writes the psalmist. (Psalm 8:1) And I can only say, "Amen" to that.
This book is about a journey, the author's journey. Some journeys are harder than others. None of them are insignificant. Books like this remind me of the journey we are on, the road we are all 
walking. Pastor Hathoway, in today's sermon, calls it the Repentence Road; a great name. The "turning from sin" road. Such a long, dusty road it is, too.
walking. Pastor Hathoway, in today's sermon, calls it the Repentence Road; a great name. The "turning from sin" road. Such a long, dusty road it is, too.I think about this book. I think about what the words say. I think carefully about what the words mean to me. I look at the reactions they illicit from inside of me. I examine myself as I read it, like a person studying herself through a two-way mirror.
I realize this heart that has been laid bare is on the journey with me in this life. And it is not my job to compare where we are on that road. It is not my job to chastise another for their experience on the journey. She doesn't need that. She needs me to love her. She needs me to pray that God continues to work in her life to keep her moving forward on the road. I ask you God what words, if any, I can say to help.
What I realize, again, while thinking about this book is that this author and I are still on the journey. Neither of us have arrived, even when we think we might have. And perhaps that is the point.
I ponder again a phrase that has been with me since the trip to the Grand Canyon. I don't know who said it originally. Google research has been unsuccessful. But someone earlier than me has stated that "....the journey is the destination."
The Redemption Road, slow and painful though it may be, brings us in touch with one another, with our humanness, with our ugly places. If we can lift our head up from focusing on ourselves and look around, out the window are some really lovely things to see.
Lord, Jesus Christ, give me the courage to bare my heart and to share the Road with my fellow man.
