For the Warriors. And By That, I Mean All of Us

Some years ago, I started following Glennon Melton, the creator of momastery.com. I fell in love with her rawness, her frankness, her here-is-my-dirty-laundry-and-feel-free-to-show-me-yours-too approach. When I found out she was doing a signing for her book, Carry On Warrior, at the Barnes & Noble near my home in the D.C. suburbs, I told E he was on his own for dinner, packed up L, and headed to the mall.

If a B&N could ever be described as full of screaming fans, this one was. Except they weren’t screaming. You could just tell they wanted to. Glennon, or G, as she affectionately signs all her posts, is sort of the literary equivalent of Jon Bon Jovi (ok, her average fan’s age is probably mid- to late thirties and early forties, so the metaphor is appropriate).

Since I had L with me, I wended my way through the crowd to a spot between the aisles of books, where I could see and hear G from the side. Next to me was a very pretty, very pregnant young woman with a toddler close to L’s age in tow. I watched as she tried to shush him for a few minutes, and then eventually, the older woman next to her whisked him away. The pretty mom turned to me and commented admiringly on how L was sitting so nicely in her stroller – a rare moment of docility, I assured her. We chatted a bit, about the challenges of raising toddlers, her pregnancy, where we lived and what we did. She was charming. Unfortunately, she lived a bit far away, or I might have asked for her email and suggested coffee (with D.C. traffic the way it is, friendships with people who live more than 10 miles away present a unique challenge).

Then, G began to speak. And we turned to listen. There were many laughs of the kind and volume you don’t expect in a bookstore. At the end, G said some thank-yous, and invited her mother, sister, and daughter to join her at the front. To my surprise, the pretty woman at my side stepped out from the aisle.

Pretty mom was G’s sister.

It felt surreal – after all, G writes about “Sister” a great deal, and she figures largely in Carry On, Warrior.

I managed to say goodbye to Sister amidst the crush of book signing that followed (as usual, L stole the show a bit when we got our book signed) and wished her well with her pregnancy. I spent the next month watching G’s Facebook feed for a glimpse of her new niece’s birth, feeling like I’d had a warm, sweet glimpse into the sister she loves so much – which in turn reminded me how deep my connection is to my own sister, how unconditional and loving our friendship is. I was glad I’d been the one woman at the signing who was content with a side aisle view, because I got a little something extra out of it.

And today, many months later, I finally finished the last page of Carry On, Warrior. I’m sad that it’s finally over. I’ve savored it for months, one essay at a time.

Friends, this is an incredible book. Both memoir and call to change, you don’t have to be a recovering addict for G’s words to resonate. All you have to be is human – broken and imperfect.

There is more of the real Jesus in Carry On, Warrior than in a lot of “Christian” books. It made me think. It made me cry. It challenged me.

Thanks, G, for this book. And for making Sister come to that book signing at Tysons. It was a joy to meet you both.