Posted in Inspiration, Review

The Shack: Part-Time Sunshine’s Review

the shack

Like millions of readers, I enjoyed the bestseller The Shack by William P. Young.  Eight years ago it was a title chosen in my book club. This story profoundly stuck with me since, and I give the book 10/10 Shines.

Yesterday, I went to the movie theater and saw the film version of The Shack directed by Stuart Hazeldine.  I wasn’t sure how the film would live up to the book  (a reader’s constant concern), but I think it did it justice and give the film 9/10 Shines.  The pieces extracted and played out from the book worked for me on the screen.  

With that said, I recommend reading the book before seeing the movie. If you are looking for a better appreciation and comprehension of the multi-riddled, bizarre concepts of faith then this is the starting point.  Please note that this is not true dogma or theology and is a work of fiction. Even though The Shack is made up, I still think it conveys profound life lessons:

To try to be good

To avoid judging

To love all including enemies

To know you’re not alone

To forgive others

To forgive yourself

To have faith and hope

To be open to healing

The main character, Mack suffers the unfathomable loss of his little girl who gets abducted and is brutally murdered. His greatest pain comes from the guilt that he couldn’t protect her.  He is angry at the God he blames for letting this tragedy happen.  In the midst of his relentless grief, Mack ends up having an unexplainable, mystical experience to soften and soothe his darkened heart.

The Shack can be coined as religious, spiritual, hokey or all of the above.  The vision that Mack has can be viewed as a dream, a miracle, or a bump on a head from a tornado blown house (whoops, wrong story, but still another inspirational one.)  My vision of God doesn’t match Mack’s vision, but as a reader and viewer I don’t feel pressured to believe how he does.  

As a Christian, I am captivated by Mack’s journey to confront the haunting permanence of his daughter’s death.  I don’t know what in this mortal world, besides faith in another world–a better world like Heaven–would ever help me personally heal from such a thing.    

As a mother, I can’t imagine this heinous disaster, and the truth is, I’m not sure I could even begin to forgive something like this on my own; I am human and therefore a judge of good and evil.  The story pulls from the Bible and claims that God will judge and deal appropriately with all the wrongdoers.  This is hard to just accept in the face of tragedy, but I believe it is possible.  In this regard (and many others), The Shack could serve others as a resource of hope and fortitude.  

One of my biggest takeaways from The Shack has been the concept of the Holy Spirit as breath and wind.  When I became a runner, I embraced this notion.  I like to think I am out there wrapped up in the Holy Spirit.  

The Shack reiterates the Christian concept of a good God who is omniscient who is everywhere at all times.  Mack’s vision gives him a tangible way to feel and believe in the Trinity which is revealed to him in a multitude of ways: as a man or woman of any age or race; as an amazing garden or weeds of wildflowers; as a perfect meal, as a stick of poison (when alone, it’s deadly, but when combined with something else it heals), as the wind, as feelings, emotions, and knowledge.

Viewing The Shack inspired me to be a more vigilant and active Christian during this Lenten Season. The reminders of how to fight the good fight as a sinner are all there. 

On a personal note, I’d like to add that human beings crave living proof, yet faith is a belief that is not proven.  I think if you are open to accepting it, signs that inspire faith happen.  I have personally experienced God in unconventional ways too.  He has shown up just when I needed him in nature, music, and a plant that should have died ten deaths by now.  If I told you I last saw my father as a black butterfly, you may believe or doubt me, but it doesn’t matter.  This is my miracle which I find great comfort in. I have faith that it’s the most beloved of all the signs I’ve ever had from God.

What miracles have you experienced?  Share and help others shine on!

Posted in Dogs, Inspiration, Running

Thank You, Dear Dog, for Making me a Runner

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On January 18th, 2017, our golden retriever Italia suffered an unexpected and fatal heart attack.  Italia is the reason I became a runner, and three days after her recent death, I ran ten miles in honor of each year I had with her.  On February 18th, one month after she crossed the Rainbow Bridge, I ran another ten miles in tribute to her.  img_8513-version-2

I’m actually shocked I went that far because I have not run double-digit miles in almost two years.  Since my last half-marathon in the spring of 2015, I haven’t gone more than six miles, yet both runs were a breeze.  Italia’s spirit and memory carried me every step. During these ten-milers, Italia joined me in a brand new way, no leash needed.  

The following narrative is an excerpt from a longer piece I composed.  Italia was particularly instrumental in healing my grieving heart after my father passed away, and she continued to bring so much peace and comfort to my family  over the past decade.  Here is the story of how a puppy taught me to run.  NOTE – I edited the tense to reflect the current moment.

From The Reckoning of the Black Butterfly:

I significantly changed my life by improving my: mind, body, heart, and soul when I became a road runner at the age of thirty-three.  I discovered this activity ten years ago and continue to love it.  My first jog (klunk, klunk, almost kerplunk) happened a season after my father’s fatal heart attack.

I was mindlessly eating through my summer grief and earned a six-pack (times four!) Aside from being consumed with calories and sadness, I was queen bee-busy in our new house with my husband, two toddler daughters and a spunky puppy.  Oh how I craved health, happiness, strength, and peace;  I accidentally gained that and more with unplanned runs that were meant to be walks with my golden retriever pup, Italia.  

Italia was just eight weeks old when we brought her home days before the Fourth of July. This adorable, furry baby had the energy, boom, and attitude of a firecracker.  Although she got a lot of  “oohs and ahhs” she was a painfully hard to keep up with and settle down.  img_1096

When September rolled around, it was time for me to go back to work and teach high school English.  After such a stressful summer, I was exhausted, irritable, and couldn’t fit into anything that zipped or buttoned.  I resorted to elastic waistbands and flowy dresses, and my school yearbook picture that fall revealed a puffier, unrested, joyless me.  

When I would get home from work and release Italia from her kennel, she bounded, bounced, and begged for exercise.  She and I started by strolling our new neighborhood.  It felt great to get outdoors, but she kept pulling on her leash to go faster. Instead of training her to slow down, she trained me to speed up, to see more, to move beyond.

Before I knew it, she and I became a running team.  She could go as far as five miles (and so could I!) Italia was my one true running partner and was my primary motivation for getting out there.  Every run brought us a new scene.      

She got so excited when we were about to wag and whisker through the wind for a journey.  She acted like it was Christmas morning every time I pulled out our running gear: laces and leashes.  I had to keep extra leashes on hand because she would get so pumped-up that she’d bite and tear through them like wrapping paper if she got the chance.  

I never realized how beautiful the natural scenery of Meadville, Pennsylvania, truly is until I perceived and absorbed it as a runner.  There is certainly a magnitude of rural splendor in my own backyard.  My simple Crawford County world frames the mental snapshots of my small town hills, valleys, dirt roads, and meadows.

Running has provided me with the added bonus of pulling up those once stuck zippers and snapping stubborn buttons on my jeans.  I continue to thank God and Mother Nature for joining me and my four-legged love on these journeys.   Italia’s big chocolate eyes have always viewed nature majestically, and I’m forever thankful to her for helping me rediscover a healthy focus in nature and for pushing (and pulling) me further.  May we all go further tomorrow.  

Memory Eternal!


Posted in Inspiration, Storytelling, Writing

Dedicated to my Mother, an Amazing Inspiration for Storytelling


Today, on my mother’s birthday, I wish to share how influential she has been to me as a storyteller.  Ever since I was a little girl, I tuned into her talent for spinning a tale, sharing an anecdote, and captivating her listeners with heartfelt and humorous narratives.  Her stories stick with you like a favorite song you need to hear over and over again.

Her life has been blessed with a variety of experiences that she is more than willing to share with those interested. She is busy, involved, witty, and approachable, so she has a lot to talk about.  Her stories touch and include audiences of all ages, genders, and backgrounds.  Her plots grow out of the seeds of her actions, observations, and conversations which continue to dot her active, golden years.

My mother, a master of the oral storytelling tradition, is not a writer, but is a vibrant speaker.  Her knack for painting pictures with words encouraged me to use my voice as both speaker and writer; I am a high school English teacher with a  passion for storytelling.  I read, write, listen to, and tell stories, and I require my students to do the same.

I got more serious about my writing five years ago and composed a memoir of my life with my beloved father who is deceased.  Aside from writing many non-fiction pieces: personal narratives, essays, and reviews, I wrote one piece of fiction that is being published by The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

It is a novella about a a pencil sharpener, of all things, and my mother inspired my development of the protagonist and plot.  Most of the story is fiction, but it is based off of my mother and what she did on her birthday, exactly four years ago.  Here is how I recapped the situation then:

Happy birthday to my mother Mildred today! She continues to be witty, courageous, outrageous, youthful, and beautiful. She performed quite a stunt this evening when she visited her old Monaca home which she sold over three years ago!

Her mission was to ask the “new” owner if he still had the old heavy duty metal pencil sharpener that my father used to sharpen the tools of his artwork. I recently told her I regretted not dismounting that from the basement closet where it eternally hung. Tonight, she knocked on our old Washington Avenue door, reintroduced herself to John, the buyer/homeowner, and inquired about the piece of nostalgia, the sharpener I wished for my own classroom. John graciously unscrewed it from the cellar closet and gave it to her.

Wow! I’m not sentimental about “things,” but I truly can’t wait to get to polish dull pencils with that old powerhouse of a device. As a teacher, I know the value of having a strong writing tool, and although we put iPads into every student and teacher’s hands at my high school this year, I still embrace the reliable, old school pencil/paper method.

My mother continues to be as bold and beautiful on this birthday as on the few others she’s had. I’m excited and thankful that she retrieved such a mechanically symbolic tool that my father’s hands turned so often.

I’m thrilled we get to continue to exalt my mother in this world. A little touch of heaven poured into her hands full of #2 pencil shavings tonight. Each spin and point will keep my father’s Memory Eternal. Blessings and memories abound around precious birthday candles. May God grant her Many Years!


Her retrieval of this treasure is the entry point of The Pencil Sharpener.  This piece is in the final stages of edits and will be available for purchase as an eBook when complete.  This will be my first published work, and I dedicate it to my mother, an amazing inspiration for storytelling.

Happy birthday, Mother!  Have a day you dreamed of!  xoxo