I love Micha Boyett’s words. She is one of those people who can make me pause, really pause, for a moment, re-reading and thinking about the weaving of metaphor, the telling of story. I expected to love her book, Found. I expected to revel in the language and that it would be a book I would return to.
I did not expect that the Micha in this book would wrap an arm around my shoulder, look deeply into my eyes and tell me that I am enough. But she did.
Though I am not married, or a mother, I know what it is to lose prayer in my own life, like a sock, or a library book. I know what it is to think that it is too late for me to try to pick it back up again, and to think that God must not miss me much.
This book is Micha’s story, but I found myself in it, just as she is found. I found the worry and the anxiety and the hope.
This book is the best kind of love story. There is the joyous, simple love she feels for her son, and which her son shows her. There is the patient, passionate love she describes between her husband and herself (some of those parts made my heart swell and almost ache), the unexpected, spring sunshine of love between friends and the realization of the undergirding, life-giving love of God. Love pours from this book like wine.
Micha is one of the best storytellers I know. When I got to the last page, I wanted to know what happens next in her family, in her heart. I got lost in the narrative, as I do in a good story, forgetting to notice the passing of time.
It is also worth noting that Micha is a poet. There is something about the prose of a poet that captures my heart, and this book is no exception. It is clear that each word is chosen with care, cupped in gentle hands, like a bird, and presented like a gift.
This book is not about how to pray. It is not “DIY” or “self-help.” But as I read, I couldn’t help writing down a note or two, steps I want to take in my own life, questions I want to ask myself. I find such beauty in the kind of memoir where the author motions for me to come further in, to take her story, such as I find it, and resonate. Micha shares her story, in more ways than one, allowing me to try it on and cry when I see myself reflected in her mirror.
I cried a lot while reading this book.
I cried when she talked about feeling lonely while she wasn’t praying, or caught at snatches of prayer in moments of exhaustion. I cried with her as she sat in her spiritual director’s office, fell in love with her husband and invited a group of women into her home, as much for herself as for them.
When I wasn’t crying, I was writing down quotes and names of other books to hunt down.
My liturgical heart quickened a little as I walked through the church year and the prayers of the hours. Structure matters, and Micha’s grounds her book in holy rhythm of two kinds, offering a beautiful picture of the way that life can flourish within boundaries.
There are so many quotes that I found myself saving in my memory, writing down or pondering before I went on. I leave you with this one (of many) which will not let me go:
“The spiritual life is never just a forward climb. It is more of a plunging breathlessly under the waters and a being rescued again and again.”
For those of you who are breathless, in need of rescue or suspended in questions, this book is for you. For those of you who have struggled with feeling too much or not enough, wondered if your life matters, or had difficulty with hope, it is for you as well.
I hope that you’ll curl up with these words and savor them, making room in them to live for a while, and letting them find a home in you.
You can purchase Found here.
I received a pre-release copy of this book because I asked very nicely. Every word in this review represents my honest feelings.