Beginner's Grace

Kate Braestrup is one of my favorite writers and, consequently, I regularly stalk check her website, hoping that she might be speaking in public within a five or six-hour drive from me. My favorite writers tend to be ones who have spoken to me at a time in my life when I needed to hear them. If I'd read them earlier or later, they might not have made the cut. Other writers, who by all accounts are incredible, don't make the cut simply because their special message wasn't special to me, right then. The same is true of music and songs.

"Here If You Need Me," by Braestrup, came out in August of 2007, at a time when I needed to hear her. It is a memoir of her journey of grief after her husband was killed and she eventually found herself becoming a Unitarian-Universalist minister and chaplain for the Maine Warden Service. She doesn't work with prisoners, whe works with the Warden Service on search and rescues, which often don't end well, offering counsel and prayer to the survivors.

I read "Here If You Need Me," right after my sweet sister-in-law, Katie, was killed, and I took great comfort in Braestrup's book. I was already grieving my father, who had died the year before, and read plenty in the grief genre for a while -- Joan Didion's "The Year of Magical Thinking," Rob Sheffield's "Love is a Mix Tape: Love and Loss, One Song at a Time," Elizabeth McCracken's "An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination."

Last night, I discovered that Braestrup has a new book, "Beginner's Grace: Bringing Prayer to Life." I also found that she had cancelled several appearances -- her grandson, who was born on October 22, had died. My oldest was born on October 22 as well. I remember her birth, I was scared (I was scared for each of them), and it was complicated. Every time I pushed, her heartrate nearly disappeared. The doctor asked us if she could "go after her." We didn't even know what she meant, but of course said "yes." The doctor quickly yanked her out with foreceps, unwrapped the cord three times from her tiny neck, and pronounced her fine. As I read, my daughter practiced her cello, a sweet sad accompaniment to this tragic news.

Braestrup's grandson, named for his deceased grandfather, died on October 27 from complications from birth. October 27 was Katie's birthday. Words can offer great comfort and grace and sometimes still not be enough.