Yesterday morning, I found myself missing the oddest thing: not having a laptop.
Let me explain. For more than thirty years, at least one morning in August has found me on the deck at my uncle’s beachfront condo in Wildwood NJ, drinking coffee and watching the sunrise. Yesterday was one of those days. I was resisting the pull of my devices, temporarily keeping at bay the emails to read, the editing to do, the blog post to write. In prayer, I let images of previous years on that deck wash over me, until I settled on a particularly fond memory: vacation mornings when my mom was still alive.
Wildwood Deck, circa ???
I’d rise first, slip out of our room, brew the coffee, head to the deck, pray and/or journal, then get comfortable with whatever novel I was reading at the time. Presently, the sliding door would open and there would be Mom, coffee in one hand, novel in the other. We’d talk a while, then sink into our books until the sun drove us back into the air conditioning.
Mom died in 2007, before everyone was schlepping their MacBooks to the shore, before anyone but the earliest adopters had a smartphone. Unless I brought some thinking to do, there was simply no such thing as working on vacation. What a luxury! Although I appreciate the flexibility of my freelance existence, the danger—as I’m sure you well know—is that work-from-anywhere easily morphs into work-from-everywhere, devouring the very notion of down-time.
That’s why I’m very excited about the week ahead.
Tomorrow, Porter and I fly to Ottawa to begin a bucket-list adventure: traveling across Canada by train. Picture a sleeping compartment, dining car, observation lounge, the works! There will be only one thing missing, I discovered as I read the fine print recently: there is no WIFI on the Canadian. I wasn’t going to be bringing my laptop anyway (in the interest of traveling light), and since international roaming is wicked expensive on my mobile plan, I’m just going to have to pass the time the old-fashioned way.
I’ll confess, I’m equal parts psyched and anxious. I’ve probably packed too many books; for months, I’ve been curating train-worthy paperback novels I can leave behind as I finish. (More, of course, are downloaded on my various book apps.) Should I choose to write instead of read, I have a notebook (the analog variety), plus I’ve saved the last several Sunday Times crossword puzzles. We have a deck of cards. There will be three meals a day, with people to meet across the table at each, and of course there’s the sleeping, but still . . . even if the train runs on time (which we are assured it will not), it’s a 96-hour, four-day journey without WIFI.
I can’t wait to tell you all about it . . . but I must! Stay tuned for stories from the far side.
May your own August days come bearing whatever graces you need.
“Have one of my books reviewed in America Magazine” was something I didn’t even know was on the professional bucket list until it became a possibility.
Several months ago, a friend who occasionally writes for America asked them if she could contribute a review of Finding God Along the Way, only to learn that it had been assigned already—to a stranger! (By which I mean, one of their regular contributors, with whom I happen to be unfamiliar.)
Cue the nail-biting. What would someone who didn’t already know me—who didn’t already like me—have to say about my writing? I’ve seen even bestselling books by well-known authors get taken down a notch by America reviewers. Would this one feel compelled to toss in a few critical observations just to prove her own writerly bona fides?
And when would it appear? I eagerly checked January’s issue (publication month) and February’s (which included IVC’s impressive annual Impact Report—a logical connection). Perhaps it would appear in March, when I was giving so many pilgrimage-themed Lent retreats? When April and May slid by as well, I stopped thinking about it. Maybe the fact that my book was assigned a reviewer was no guarantee said review would appear in print.
Then out of the blue on Friday morning, a text from Lexa Hall, my wonderful marketing contact at Paraclete Press: Did you see the review? Check your email!
Was I thrilled or crushed? Click the image below to read for yourself!
This week, I was thrilled to read Catherine Anne Sullivan’s take on Finding God Along the Way in the Englewood Review of Books. Besides being positive promo, it’s going to bring my book to the attention of people well beyond the reach of my usual target-audience circles.
Catherine’s writing is gorgeous, so enjoy that for its own sake! Click on her name to explore more of her work.
Here’s the review, entitled Reflections Centering on Presence:
I’m grateful to my Jesuit Media Lab friend Alli Bobzien for pitching and writing this beautiful review of Finding God Along the Way, which just posted in Today’s American Catholic. I’ve never had a book reviewed before! Two others may be pending, but props to Alli for being first across the finish line.
When I returned from the Ignatian Camino, my challenge was to transform a personal experience of pilgrimage into a book that could touch the hearts of people who might never be able to walk away from their life for a month. Now that Finding God Along the Way is out in the world, a new challenge has arisen: transforming words on a page into living, interactive retreat experiences.
I can’t think of a more hospitable place to begin than the Cranaleith Spiritual Center, where last Saturday I led a morning retreat called “The Long Pilgrimage to Justice.” Moved by a spectrum of concerns, ten souls braved the cold to gather in a sunny room and ground themselves for the work ahead. Together, we considered how the metaphor of pilgrimage could allow us to keep our goal on the horizon while staying deeply present to what is right in front of us. Drawing on wisdom from the Ignatian Camino, we discussed finding our “one thing,” taking the next step, redefining failure, and equipping ourselves spiritually.
My favorite part came near the end. Thoughout the morning, I’d been sharing snippets that speak to me—Scripture verses, songs, poems, quotes, etc. Finally, I read a passage from Chapter Sixteen of my book, “It’s in There,” and invited people to share what they carry in their own “go-bag” of inspiration.
The responses began as slowly as an afternoon snowfall, but each offering encouraged the next until the room was blanketed by consolation. It was such a joy to hear people ask one another, “Wait, who was that author?” “What was the name of that song ?” “Tell me that website again!” Phones came out so folks could look things up; pens came out so we could write them down.
One gentleman shared a reflection from Unfolding Light that captured the spirit of the day. It began: Hope is not anticipation of a certain outcome, but trusting goodness. Though the world around us abounds in hateful rhetoric right now—with even people on “our side” (whichever side that may be) delighting in mean memes and zinging caricatures—it was refreshing to remember how much goodness dwells in people’s hearts and memory banks.
Hope is not anticipation of a certain outcome, but trusting goodness.
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
It made me realize that, just as January is a month in which many of us return to a healthier diet after the excesses of the holiday season, so is this a time to be careful about our mental consumption. What we read, watch, and listen to has a profound effect on our spiritual health. Let’s resolve to choose wisely!
Can you spot the potassium-rich banana in Betsy’s backpack? What’s in your “go-bag” of inspiration?
Excerpt from Chapter Sixteen, “It’s in There”
“I know we’re supposed to be praying during the first two hours of every walk. Does repeatedly taking the name of the Lord in vain count?”
I cracked this joke at the end of a particularly pressured segment of hiking, but I wasn’t actually swearing my way across Spain. The only truth in that snarky remark was the word “repeatedly.” When the pace or terrain overwhelmed my ability to pray deeply (by which I mean conversationally, meditatively, or imaginatively), I took comfort in repeating words and phrases lodged in my memory.
It began during that long ascent to Arantzazu. Knowing that we were going to “visit” the Blessed Mother, I was thrown back to one of my mom’s favorite prayers, the Memorare. As I grew more exhausted by the climb, I resorted to repeating the last sentence like a mantra, in cadence with my steps: O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in your mercy hear and answer me.
Gradually, other words emerged from the deep. Once upon a time, I’d memorized a few prayers in Spanish, so I was able to pass a satisfying hour trying to drag those beloved lines out of the mental vault. Later, I challenged myself to piece together all four verses of Tagore’s “Friends Whom I Knew Not,” which I’d quoted extensively in my book Finding God Abiding. In both cases, something about the combination of meaningful words and mental exercise sustained me for quite a while.
Various Scripture passages joined the parade of words in my head. Walking through the mountains, I recalled the beginning of Psalm 121: “I will lift up my eyes unto the hills, from whence shall come my help.” On another day, I clung to St. Peter’s incredulous exclamation after Jesus asked if he wanted to jump ship like other faint-hearted followers: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of everlasting life.” Mile after mile, the rhythmic “Lord, to whom shall we go?” reminded me that there was nowhere I’d rather be.
Certain hymns also provided prayerful refuge. Gospel songs such as “Guide My Feet” and “We’ve Come This Far by Faith” encouraged me to press on. The sight of a little dead bird evoked “His Eye is on the Sparrow,” assuring me that I was not alone.Even though such repetitive prayer isn’t ordinarily my style, I’m grateful to have had access to such richness under duress.
In the age of smartphones, the ability to “look anything up” is both a gift and a curse. Though vast amounts of information are there at our fingertips, the convenience discourages committing things to memory. But even if I’d had cell service in the Cantabrian mountains, what would I have done—pulled out my phone and said, “Hey Siri: What’s a good prayer, poem, Scripture, or song for when you’ve climbed higher than you would have thought possible but still have an impossible distance to go?” (Okay, I just tried it, and got a link to “30 Prayers to Give You Peace of Mind When You Need It Most,” but there’s no way I could have flipped through them without dropping my phone or dropping out of the pack!)
Back in the late 80s, a series of Prego spaghetti sauce commercials featured the slogan “It’s in there!” (All the ingredients a home cook could want, right in one convenient jar.) Prego is Italian for “You’re welcome,” so perhaps that’s God’s response as I offer thanks for all the heartening words that dwell in my memory banks and offer themselves as needed. “Prego!”
My book is in the wild, so you know what that means . . . It’s podcast season! I’m grateful to my friend Mary Fran Bontempo for being first out of the gate with this fun conversation. Click the image below to listen.
Note: Mary Fran’s latest book, From Broken to Brilliant, made my 2024 list of Books I Love by People I Love. Check it out!
‘Tis the season for curated book lists! Here’s my quirky, second annual contribution, with just two rules: I have to 1) know the author and 2) like the book. (And I can’t just have mentioned it in my Thankful Thursday posts, though there were a lot of great reads in there!)
If you’re shopping online (I’m looking at you, Cyber Monday), I beg of you,get not your books on Amazon. Local independent bookstores need our December dollars! If you don’t have one near you, try Bookshop.org, where you can indicate which local indie your purchase will support, or Barnes & Noble, a bona fide brick-and-mortar chain.
And if you want to gift any of my books for Christmas (including Finding God Along the Way) just email me and I’ll move heaven and earth to get personalized, signed copies to you or your chosen recipients.
Okay, here’s the 2024 edition of Books I Love by People I Love (or at least like and esteem a whole lot), alpha by author:
From Broken to Brilliant: How to Live a Brilliantly Resilient Life, by Mary Fran Bontempo When you are racing to respond to one of life’s many crises, Mary Fran Bontempo has your back. This book—published on Kindle today—is a “go bag” of useful strategies: nuggets culled from her own hard-earned experience and the wisdom of more than two dozen podcast guests. Delivered in her characteristic sassy style (she puts the “smart” in “smart ass”), the book also includes practical reflection questions to help you apply each insight to your own life. It’s a master class in getting a grip while remaining endlessly kind to yourself! GIFT THIS TO anyone at whom life has thrown a serious curveball.
The Mystics Would Like a Word: Six Women Who Met God and Found a Spirituality for Today, by Shannon K. Evans By day, Shannon Evans is the culture and spirituality editor at the National Catholic Reporter; she’s also the author of three books and is one of my Ignatian Creators Summit pals. Here she has taken six mystics whose stories we may only think we know and paired them with searingly honest tales of her own life and our contemporary culture. The result is both riveting and thought-provoking. GIFT THIS TO anyone who likes their spirituality generously seasoned with sass.
Domestic Violence Awareness: Listen for the Whispers of Abuse, by Jennifer Gardella How do you tell the difference between a jerk and an abuser? This is the topic that Dr. Jennifer Gardella tackles in her eye-opening book. Rooted in her own story but determined not to stop there, Jen’s mission is to “empower victims and their support systems to recognize signs of abuse beyond broken bones and bruises, and then learn how to provide support.” GIFT THIS TO anyone who harbors concerns about a loved one but is perplexed about what to do next.
Redeeming Power: Exercising the Gift as God Intended / 12 Lessons for Catholics Who Lead, by Ann Garrido One of the things I often say about Ann Garrido is that she has a keen sense of what needs redeeming (see Redeeming Conflict and Redeeming Administration). In her third book in the series, she addresses the hard reality that leadership confers power, and power can be used hurtfully. As a remedy, Ann gives us a dozen strategies for the healthy and holy use of power, as well as twelve role models to follow. GIFT THIS TO anyone who finds themselves uncomfortably “in charge,” especially in a church setting.
The Dry Cleaner’s Three Stories, by Betsy Hudson I’ve never had a comic book on my list before, and I may never again, but this is too sweet not to share. Betsy’s a fellow pilgrim from the Ignatian Camino. Her delightful little book tells the true story of her husband’s long flight delay spent—quite unexpectedly—in the company of their dry cleaner, Max, and the profound lessons Charlie encountered in the three true stories Max shared. “Because you never know when someone will tell you something that captivates, entertains, and maybe even changes you.” GIFT THIS TO anyone who enjoys a meaningful bit of cross-cultural whimsy.
MicroShifts: Transforming Your Life One Step at a Time, by Gary Jansen Gary Jansen is an award-winning author, speaker, and editor (Loyola Press), but I know him best as someone I was fortunate to connect with during the last Ignatian Creators Summit. In this gem of a book, he explores the topic of personal transformation: why it’s so difficult, how we get in our own way, and things we can do to (gradually, sustainably) create the changes we desire. GIFT THIS TO: Anyone who could use a dose of practical inspiration in their stocking.
This Little Light: Lessons in Living from Sister Thea Bowman, by Bro. Mickey McGrath OSFS With his usual flair for storytelling, artist Mickey McGrath illuminates the life of Servant of God Thea Bowman (one of the “Saintly Six” Black Catholics whose cause for canonization is under consideration). Through twelve paintings, he weaves her story of faith and hope with his unfolding personal and artistic growth, giving us all a little more light to see by. GIFT THIS TO anyone who needs to remember, “It doesn’t matter if you’re scared; just keep on steppin’!”
The End of Ending, by Josh Noem Another Ignatian Creators Summit friend, Josh Noem is Editorial Director at Ave Maria Press whose other hats include blogger and novelist. The End of Ending is one of those rare novels that treats religion as a normal part of everyday life (true for so many people, but rarely seen in fiction). When I complemented him on that, Josh said that he wanted the book to be about “the lived experience of confronting despair, grief, injustice—and experiencing something gratuitous on the other side.” GIFT THIS TO fans of belief,beer, baseball or—better yet—all three!
Homework Success for Children with ADHD: A Family-School Intervention Program, by Thomas J. Power, James L. Karustis, and Dina F. Habboushe Okay, you caught me. I have not read this book—because this is not a topic I’ve ever had to think about. But Jim Karustis played a brief but pivotal role in my journey from shy English major to campus ministry-immersed theology major, so I owe him a lot! And apparently this is a very good book and I did actually purchase it, so if anyone would like it please let me know and I’ll pop it in the mail. GIFT THIS TO any educator or parent of young children for whom “homework has become a frustrating battle nobody wins.”
The Missing, by Ben Tanzer The Missing is narrated in the alternating voices of parents whose teenage daughter has vanished. Through this technique, Ben Tanzer deftly weaves the characters’ paths together even as their emotional trajectories are spinning apart. Ben was the publicist for my first two books; I know that he’s a good guy and a great dad. But here’s the writing challenge he set for himself: explore a crisis in which the protagonists make decisions he NEVER would make. I spent a lot of time yelling “Nooooo!” as I read, but ended up applauding Ben’s swell writing chops, and the creative leap required to get inside the heads of characters who keep taking dead wrong turns in their relationship. GIFT THIS TO anyone who’d enjoy a literary deep dive into some truly dark stuff.
When I was a sophomore in high school, I attended forensics nationals in NYC and fell in love with the place. I began dreaming of going to Fordham, whose Lincoln Center campus had hosted some of the events. After four years as a communications major in the Big Apple, I figured, I’d snag a job as an editor and pursue my own writing after hours.
All it took to derail that dream was my mother’s discovery that the Fordham campus where I’d be living and studying was in the Bronx. (Cue scary music.) Whatever she was picturing there did not include her only daughter. Mom put her foot down, and I followed a different path.
Two decades later, a Massachusetts gal had a similar dream—and a more accommodating mother. Jen Sawyer is a Fordham alum holding a degree in communication with a concentration in American Catholic studies. After graduation, she deployed her storytelling talents in some fascinating venues, working for “The Martha Stewart Show,” and “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire,” as well as the Cooking Channel and Yahoo. As a freelance writer, she has contributed to “Good Morning America,” Metro, the NY Post, Fordham Magazine, America, and more. She and her husband lived the dream in a tiny apartment in New York before finding a home in New Jersey, where they now live with their 2-year-old daughter, Nora.
Thanks to Jen’s Jesuit education, one question pursued her through the whirlwind of writing, editing, and producing: “Am I doing the most good that I can in my job?” That question led her to combine her skills and passions at Busted Halo, an online platform that presents “a more joyful and meaningful experience of Catholicism” through articles, videos, podcasts, radio, and more. She began as Digital Content Producer; by the time we met in Jonathan Malesic’s spiritual nonfiction class, she was Editor-in-Chief.
One question pursued her through the whirlwind of writing, editing, and producing: “Am I doing the most good that I can in my job?”
As the culminating exercise of the class, we had to pitch an article. I crafted a pitch for Busted Halo, then actually pitched it. Jen and I bounced some ideas around. I wrote the piece. She made it better. In December, BH published “This Advent, Let’s Pray with Our Foremothers in the Faith.” Throughout the process, Jen was a delight to work with. Half a year later, she and I had the joy of participating in the Ignatian Creators Summit together, along with Jon Malesic and several other members of the class.
I so enjoyed getting to know Jen personally in the “temporary alternative space” that the good folks at the Jesuit Media Lab created for us. From taking risks in small-group sharing to swapping stories on the bus ride home from Camden Yards (Let’s go, O’s!), we were at ease in one another’s company. Jen has a great smile. She’s funny, friendly, and fully engaged in the work of helping others connect life and faith in meaningful ways. The world is lucky to have her.
Here’s what she had to say about Finding God Along the Way: Readers don’t have to trek 300 miles across Spain to appreciate the wisdom gleaned from Christine Eberle’s time walking in the footsteps of St. Ignatius of Loyola. With profound insight, vulnerability, and humor, Eberle invites readers to journey alongside her as she reflects on the modern-day relevance of Ignatius’ life and teachings. “Finding God Along the Way” is a must-read for those curious about Ignatian Spirituality and its capability—like pilgrimage—to transform our hearts, our minds, and our perspectives.
For the opportunity to cross paths with the road not taken—and to admire it wholeheartedly yet without regret—I am truly grateful.
“Wait, you knowPaula D’Arcy?” I’ve loved Paula’s writing for decades; my Camino buddy Jane Lafave might as well have told me she’d been hanging out in Ann Patchett’s kitchen! Jane explained that she’d known the author for many years, since going on a pilgrimage she led to Notre Dame (Paris) as part of her grief ministry.
Paula D’Arcy
The ability to write or speak authentically about loss is hard earned, and Paula D’Arcy paid a terrible entrance price to the world of grief ministers. When she was a young mother, pregnant with her second child, her family was struck by a drunk driver. She awoke in the hospital, alone except for the child in her womb. Her beloved husband and twenty-one-month-old daughter were gone.
That she built a beautiful life in the wake of such tragedy is a testimony to the power of resurrection. I first encountered the story in her 2004 book Sacred Threshold: Crossing the Inner Barrier to a Deeper Love. When my mother died a few years later, I clung to D’Arcy’s next book, When People Grieve. It is full of sanity-saving wisdom and practical advice about the physical, mental, and emotional aftermath of a profound loss. I owe much of my patience with the slow course of grief to her gentle guidance.
D’Arcy’s devastating accident was almost fifty years ago. What defines her life now is not the tragedy, but her consequent commitment to helping others keep the doors of their hearts propped open, even in the midst of grief. She is the founder of the Red Bird Foundation, whose mission is to assist others in the transformation of pain and the restoration of hope.
What defines her life is not the tragedy, but her consequent commitment to helping others keep the doors of their hearts propped open . . .”
I am thrilled to announce that Paula soon will be offering a retreat via Zoom through the SSJ Center for Spirituality in Ocean Grove, NJ. Mark your calendars for Thursday, February 13 from 6-8 p.m. for “Beauty Beyond Loss: Finding Your Way Through the Mystery of Grief and Gratitude.” I just signed up; you can learn more and register here.
Knowing that pilgrimage has been a meaningful part of Paula D’Arcy’s life, I asked my friend Jane if she could reach out to her on my behalf. Paula read my manuscript, then swiftly responded with these lovely words: Finding God Along the Way is equal parts adventure and strong spiritual experience; I felt like I was being given a private retreat as I read along. In this beautifully written book, Eberle encourages readers to risk what it means to step into the unknown each day, putting the Camino experience within every person’s reach.
According to the Talmud, every blade of grass has an angel bending over it, whispering “Grow, grow, grow!” For every angel on earth who whispers hope into the hearts of grieving people, I am truly grateful.
There’s an almost thirty-year gap in the story of my friendship with Dave Burns. I have clear (ish) memories of our time together as undergrads at Saint Joe’s: arguing in honors seminars, collaborating on SEARCH retreats, that sort of thing. When the Challenger exploded, Dave and his girlfriend (now wife) Kate and I watched the coverage together in Xavier Hall. There’s a fun cap-and-gown picture of us in front of the student center in 1987, and then . . . I was forty-nine, walking into church for my father’s funeral, trying to figure out who that vaguely familiar middle-aged man was, smiling at me kindly from a back pew.
Cultivating the “Man of Mystery” look!
Since I reconnected with Dave ten years ago, our shared passion for writing has helped us make up for lost time. He sent me an unpublished draft of a fun romp in which his protagonist was a fast-talking, wise-cracking, self-deprecating Gorgon (yup—snakes for hair, paralyzing death-gaze). Then he confessed to having also written a six volume post-apocalyptic series with some surprisingly Biblical turns. I asked for the manuscripts one at a time, and thoroughly enjoyed the ride.
Dave’s writing chops garnered some attention in 2019 when his excellent short story “Night Surf” won a Writer’s Digest grand prize. (You can read the story and an interview about it here.) And in 2022, he entered a Pitch Week competition at When Words Count—the writers’ retreat in Vermont that opened the door to my first published book—and swept all the categories, winning the top prize with that little Gorgon tale, now out in the world as Heart of Stone: Book One of The Medusa Chronicles. (Keep writing, Dave; we want to know what’s next for Kyra!)
Besides being a prolific writer, Dave is a New Jersey trial attorney. What do world-building in a fantasy novel and making a persuasive case to a jury have in common? They both rely on his gift for storytelling. In the Writer’s Digest interview, he says that’s the aspect of trial work he enjoys most: “having the opportunity to tell what I hope is a true story to a jury and then letting them weigh in on what they think of it.”
I haven’t seen Dave in the courtroom, but as a fan of his fiction, I believe that the truth at the core of each of his stories is what makes them so good. His characters wrestle with eternal, relatable themes of meaning and purpose, even when they’re battling mythological assassins or defending a citadel from vampire attacks.
His characters wrestle with eternal, relatable themes of meaning and purpose, even when they’re battling mythological assassins or defending a citadel from vampire attacks.”
Dave was one of the early readers for Finding God Along the Way, andI can picture exactly where I was when he called to tell me he had finished reading it. I was giving a retreat in Hampton Bays NY, out for a long walk after dinner when my cell phone rang. “I remember finishing the last Lord of the Rings book as a kid,” Dave said, “and bursting into tears because I knew it was over and there wouldn’t be any more. Not since then have I been so sorry to reach the end of a book!”
Here’s what he had to say in writing: “Do you want to go for a walk with me?” With this deceptively simple question, author Christine M. Eberle launches us on a journey that is both physical and spiritual as she recounts her month-long, 300-mile trek through northern Spain with a group of fellow pilgrims to visit the key sites in the life of Ignatius of Loyola. In Finding God Along the Way: Wisdom from the Ignatian Camino for Life at Home, Eberle shares the perils and pitfalls of each stage of her travels, as well as the moments of sublime grace and beauty she encountered, while recreating each wild and wide vista of the Ignatian Camino trail—from the formidable heights of its mountains to the fragrant vineyards and arid deserts of its lowlands.
With her trademark tongue-in-cheek wit and relentless honesty, Eberle crafts both an entertaining and accessible memoir and a guidebook for meditating life’s most important questions. At turns harrowing and joyous, this is a book that lets the reader inhabit each step of an uplifting and transformative odyssey few will get to experience firsthand. By the time the author reaches the pinnacle of her journey and arrives at the monastery at Montserrat, the reader will feel an undeniable sense of accomplishment and triumph.
For new iterations of old friendships, I am truly grateful.
Christine Marie Eberle 