Lynn H. Blackburn

This is the sentence that convinced me that I was holding a must-read book.

“Do I want my headstone to read, ‘Well, on the days she was nice she was really nice. But on the days she wasn’t, rest assured, hell hath no fury like the woman who lies beneath the ground right here’?”

I laughed. But then . . . I wasn’t laughing. I’ve rarely had a book have me in tears so early on, but this one did.

Because I struggle so much with coming completely unglued over the most ridiculous things and then regretting my words and actions. 

With feeling helpless to stop myself from exploding and spewing all over the people I love the most. Because let’s face it, there’s very little chance you’ll see that side of me unless you live in my house—or possibly if you’ve made the very unwise decision to refuse to split the fruit smoothie I just ordered into two cups…but, um, that’s a story for another day.

But speaking of stories, one of the things I admire about Lysa TerKeurst is her willingness to be painfully transparent. She tells things that are shocking. Not because I can’t believe them or have never done anything like them.

They are shocking because I certainly would never admit to them in print!

Maybe you have no issues with coming Unglued. If not, I’m truly happy for you. I don’t believe you, but I’m happy for you.

If, however, you might admit to occasionally losing it when someone decides to eat chocolate ice cream on the couch or run their spaghetti sauce covered face all over your pants…then read on.

What I liked:: I’ve already touched on this, but Unglued is full of very real, very practical, very relatable stories of people coming unglued in a variety of ways. And while no one is saying it’s okay to come unglued, there’s no sense of condemnation. Only a call to imperfect progress.

What I loved:: Unglued isn’t just a book that points out all the many ways we come unglued and then leaves us with a nice “you need to pray about it” platitude. Not that prayer isn’t important, but that’s a Christian-speak bandaid. I wanted to find some specific tools to help me in my unglued moments, and this book delivered.

I’m not saying I haven’t come unglued since I finished reading this book. I think it’s a little less often. I think I’m choosing to extend grace, to change my perspective, to lean into Jesus just a little more often.

It’s imperfect progress, but it’s progress.