invisible

It is a great book for women. It is: honest, raw, sweet, sad, happy, inspiring, powerful, creative, truthful, heavy, light, challenging, and the adjectives keep on flowing....oh, yeah - flowing.

I came upon the chapter on Our Mothers and had to put the book down when I read Joyce’s second paragraph about wanting to feel and smell your mother. I knew right then I had to step away from the book for a while if I wanted to keep my composure. Since losing my mother 5 years ago, sometimes the rawness of it still lingers on the hairs of my body, so to speak. So, I knew I had to stroke and calm myself before I could read on. l did eventually read it and was ready.

The chapters elicit such deep responses on so many levels - emotional, mental, spiritual and sometimes physical - depending on the subject matter and how the reader might take the information in and how the body might respond. At times, my heart fluttered from joy and sometimes it knotted rom the feelings of sadness until the flow continued and washed the knots away.

Of course, being a grandmother, I loved the chapter on Leaving Normalcy Behind. When I read Joyce’s entry I thought about how much her life was lived around such deep convictions for so many causes. It reminded me of myself in the 70's. It also showed me how deep Joyce’s convictions are now and how she will choose, when the grandkids come, to let them be themselves and not lavish them with all that she has done in the past but let them know she, as the person who stands in the world now - and even deeper as a grandmother who has nothing more sacred to do with her time and love but love the children into themselves, letting their sweet souls dictate who that will be for them.

As I write the last sentence, I realize that the book and each entry from Renee and Jean does just that for the reader. You give us your story and ask us to find our own, to own it and cherish it, change it, add to it, extract from it, sculpt it or leave it according to our own soul's path. There is no judgment - just a deep sharing that continues to create a deep sharing with those who read your words.

It is timely. Women need to realize that our stories are just that. Stories. We write them, live them, rewrite them, relive them, and share them with others. We are all unique and when we accept ourselves as such we will see all of our faces, minds, bodies and spirits as such. I feel it is really time that women begin to hold their stories dear and near and then be willing to let them fade and fly into a new chapter. We all write books in our souls. It has always been so.

You have much to be proud about with this book.

Jahn
Baltimore, MD

I wanted to tell you how much something you wrote means to me. In the very beginning of your book, you talk about how when your friend Miki died, you began seeing growing older as a joy rather than a burden.

I know this sounds silly, but I have been a little upset about turning 29 this year. It just feels scary to have 30 right around the corner.

Well when I read what you wrote I decided I would stop thinking that.

My friend Lauren passed away from cancer at the heartbreaking age of 24. After reading what you wrote about celebrating each year for your friend Miki who didn't get the chance, I decided I am going to start being happy about each day, each week, each month, and each year that I get to live.

I will see it as an honor, a joy and a celebration because I am getting to live so much more than Lauren got. It is wrong to complain about getting older when there are so many people who would have given anything to have had the chance, like Lauren.

I am excited to turn 29, and will celebrate my birthday both for me, and for Lauren, who never got the chance.

Becky, age 29
Richmond, VA