Back-to-back emails is so not my jam, and with Thursday Things tomorrow, I thought about scheduling this one out. But—for those who missed joining the Author Chat this week due to other commitments, I don’t want to keep you waiting on the replay! Here it is, for whenever is convenient for you. See you soon (tomorrow) with the usual randomness.
I honestly could not plan this out if I tried. From our author chats:
“Hope plays the long game.” (June)
“Hope is not a liar.” (August)
“We hold onto hope, even in the darkest of dark. Not because it erases our pain, but because it points to a better end, not the bitter end.” (October)
“Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.” (February)
And then this week, the thread of both hope and han (it’s right there, the title of chapter 8 in Tell Me the Dream Again) still woven throughout… not bypassing or glossing over the difficult, the not-okay, the broken, the loneliness… but instead daring to look again—around us and in the bathroom mirror—and choose hope and kindness, even when that takes courage. To be a person of welcome to others and to our own self.
Hope seems to be the understory and the refrain, a gentle reminder to remember, remember, remember.
Hope will not let us go. Goodness is going to chase us down.
Some of the things we talked about on our April call:
(First things first, the hard-hitting topic of whether or not we each remove the book jacket while reading a hardcover book.)
The power of memoir to connect us even when our stories differ
What it was like to not only write a generational story down, but to release it into the world for friends and strangers alike to read
The unexpected 20-years-later full-circle of fiction tucked in TMTDA
Thoughts on how to know when you’re ready/it’s time to share a more personal, vulnerable story
The kindness and gentleness within He called my bluff in this quote at the start: “There was only so long I could offer Jesus the outer rooms of my heart and pretend that’s all there was to me. There was only so long I could fool myself by telling him that he could have everything while I was unwilling to embrace everything… Finally, he called my bluff.”
“There’s more love for you here. You’re not [yet] receiving it all.”
Community, true unity and the Trinity all together
The gift of choosing curiosity, not only when listening to others but also within your own story
Holding the tension of embracing your belovedness while experiencing the pain of rejection or loneliness when it becomes clear that you don’t/no longer belong in a space
The universal longing to belong and being a person of welcome → “We carry belonging within us and the more that we realize that, the more that we can offer that out and create other spaces of belonging.”
The joy, the hard work, the ordinariness, and the sadness woven into creating a community like the one she longed for
The love language of food + the nourishment and care of “how are you doing, let me feed you”
Of all the things Jesus could have done after His resurrection, He made a meal for His friends → “Despite the shock and awe of his death-conquering deity, he made a meal.”
This truth: We are not the saviors of our families, nor are we the ones meant to carry the full weight of their broken branches. We are those whose desperation for Jesus in the midst of our families’ brokenness creates paths of healing.
What Tasha imagines her little-girl-self would say/feel about Tell Me the Dream Again
We ran out of time to cover half the underlined portions of Tell Me the Dream Again, but I hope you’ll slowly savor the story shared and be refreshed through the Zoom conversation replay if you weren’t able to join live.
(FWIW, I shared this quote + in-process thoughts + a maybe-somewhat-sassy response to Shame in our private IG account. There are several things from the live call I’ll be thinking about for a while, but this quote… well, like I wrote the other day, I just keep coming back to it to simply—sit with. Reflect on. Wonder. Consider. Like I’m picturing the word ‘shame’ in my left hand and ‘shalom’ in my right, staring at how similar the words appear while recognizing the great chasm between. Thank God for the glimpse, the taste, and the countdown clock.)
A may-you blessing for your today…
May you talk to yourself and think about yourself with kindness.
May you be tender toward the broken places and storylines that are still being written.
May you be surprised and delighted by a welcoming space.
May you rest well and rest assured that you already—and always—belong with the One who made you just as you are, on purpose and with purpose.
May you know it beyond a shadow of a doubt: your identity is secure and you are not an outsider to God.
May you receive a fresh dose of new hope to carry through into tomorrow.
More good words from Tasha:
If you aren’t already, you can follow Tasha on Instagram and here on Substack (
) for “notes on living shalmonsick… learning to live towards home with hope and ache.” This month specifically, Tasha is highlighting several Asian American voices with guest posts in celebration of AANHPI/APIDA month. 💛