I still remember the sick feeling I had the day I found out Edie’s house burned to the ground. It was 2010, only days before Christmas.
Edie was one of those twenty-first century gifts, the kind we get now that we write online and can meet people from all over who we would never get to meet otherwise. I had read her blog for years, learning from her gift of hospitality and saving her recipe posts to go back to. I especially loved reading about her kitchen re-model.
The night her house burned down, their family (miraculously) got out safely. But the house was a total loss. That afternoon I walked around my own house taking stock of all my pretty things, wondering what it would be like to lose them and the memories they represented.
I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I spent an unreasonable amount of time that day scrolling through her blog, looking at all of her photos of her beautiful home. That sink is gone. That sofa is gone. Those books are gone.
I wondered what else was lost in that fire that cold December night, things that go beyond what our eyes can see and the insurance man can tally up.
I was trying to connect her experience with my reality. I was trying to conceptualize her loss but kept coming up short. Because the truth was, I couldn’t imagine what she was going through.
For the days and weeks after that fire, I prayed specifically that the Lord would wrap Edie and her family up with arms of peace and redemption. I prayed for Fear to run wimpy and small to the hills and for Joy pick up her bright pink skirts and twirl around in their midst.
As it turns out, the fire that night was not the first time Edie’s life had been touched by fire or by tragedy. I no longer wonder what else was lost to her that night, what other losses she was grieving. Because now I know.
Edie is telling her whole story in her first book, a memoir called All the Pretty Things.
“Maybe it was because Mamaw had the barest refrigerator I have ever seen. Or maybe it was because hunger is easier to give voice to than pain. Either way, I was aware that somewhere deep down, I was empty.”
– Edie Wadsworth, All the Pretty Things
This book both broke and healed my heart.
As I read the details of Edie’s life growing up in southern Appalachia, I hung on every loss, every redemption, every connection, and every regret.
She tells her story from her five-year-old perspective all the way up to adulthood. And the whole way through, her words prove that line about how children are great recorders of information but terrible interpreters.
“I could tell by how far away he was that he had one thing on his mind. And it wasn’t me or Sister or my stitches or anything else but finding beer. I was old enough to know the signs and old enough to feel the sting, but I wasn’t yet old enough to know that it wasn’t my fault and there would never be anything I could do to make it right.”
– Edie Wadsworth, All the Pretty Things
Once I started reading, I couldn’t stop. I read in the carpool line, on the airplane, at my kitchen island while the dinner cooked. I stayed up too late and woke up too early just to read this book.
Reading the details of her story, I was transported into her life. And in seeing her life, somehow I saw my own.
I saw everyone from my children and my aunts to my sister and my mom. And though he’s been sober now for over 30 years, I recognized small glimpses of my own dad from years ago in Edie’s alcoholic Daddy. I understood her deep love and affection towards him as well as her misplaced responsibility for him.
Most of all, I saw myself.
“I doubted Daddy would ever really change, and I wondered what that would mean for Sister and me and everybody else who loved him. Maybe the worst part about growing up was being forced to see things like they really were.”
– Edie Wadsworth, All the Pretty Things
And then when I finished the book, I cried because it was over. The heartbreak of Edie’s story is deep, but the hope is deeper still. Her vulnerability and resilience have reconnected me to my own.
I am deeply grateful to Edie for sharing her story with us. This book is one of my favorite books of the year and I hope you’ll add it to your list to read.
I’m honored to share this sponsored post in glad partnership with Tyndale House.
Edie Wadsworth is an old soul. Born and raised in East Tennessee, she has southern Appalachia in her blood. She would say her difficult upbringing has been one of the greatest gifts of her life and she believes with all her heart that everything that happens to us, once redeemed by God, will be the magic—the source and inspiration for our greatest gifts to humanity.
After leaving her medical practice in 2008, she began writing her way through her own struggles and from those struggles she found her voice and her people. Her first book, All the Pretty Things: The Story of a Southern Girl Who Went Through Fire to Find Her Way Home is available now.
Sara Kiiru says
September 20, 2016 at 9:13 AMBeautiful review. This makes me more interested in reading All The Pretty Things than the other reviews I’ve read. Your own summary and the excerpts you’ve cited give a comprehensive look at the topics and tone of the book, and I love your personification of Fear “wimpy and small” and running for the hills, and Joy gathering her colorful skirts. Thanks for this!
Linda Stoll says
September 20, 2016 at 9:33 AMEmily … thank you for introducing us to your friend. Maybe this is one of blogging’s finest gifts … words and images and conversations that weave together to connect us kindred spirits, far and wide.
And somehow, we forge relationships that matter despite the miles.
Jerralea says
September 20, 2016 at 10:12 AMLoved your review, Emily! I, too, could not put Edie’s book down. My husband got frozen pizza for dinner the night I was feasting on her book.
Sharing Edie’s quote about feeling responsible for her dad’s drinking really hit me because I lived that same story. But thankfully, like your dad, mine got sober, too, and spent the last 17 years of his life alcohol free.
However, even if there is no alcoholism in a person’s family, I think everyone can relate to Edie’s story … because as she said, she burned her own life down, and I believe there’s someone in everyone’s family who has done the same.
Plus, I just love Edie!
Betsy Gordon says
September 20, 2016 at 10:16 AMEmily,
What a beautiful post about Edie and her memoir.
I just loved the book and hung on every word. Such honesty and pure Grace poured through every page. Tears flowed from my eyes and I cheered her on from the sidelines.
I know that this book will heal others and be used in amazing ways to help others know that we’re all broken in some way, longing for our heavenly father.
Thank you for sharing.
Betsy Gordon
Brandi says
September 20, 2016 at 10:25 AMI’m going to have to add this book to my never ending “to read” list..sounds wonderful. On a personal note, if you don’t mind my asking, what kind of booties are you wearing in that picture? Love the color and wedge heel!
Amanda Massingill says
September 20, 2016 at 10:46 AMI had the privilege of being part of Edie’s book launch team for “All the Pretty Things” and it was more than I could have ever expected. She has become someone who feels like a true friend, but we’ve never even met. Reading this book allowed me to open parts of my past I have allowed to be hidden for far too long. She reminds us Hope does exist and God is always the answer. Anyone who reads this book will be truly blessed!
Jacque Watkins says
September 20, 2016 at 11:56 AMOh Emily. Yes. Yes. Yes! I feel the same way. You have articulated how I absolutely feel about this book and am SO grateful for Edie and her beautiful heart. Praying her words meet many hearts and bring the hope of redemption that God is working in each of our stories..always redeeming…even when we don’t understand or can’t see how in the moment. Just beautiful..xo
Susan Ruffalo says
September 20, 2016 at 1:04 PMGrowing up in a home with an alcoholic father I never realized that we weren’t the “normal” until I grew up. It sounds like this book would help feed my soul. The young soul that was starving for attention that it never got growing up!
Allison says
September 20, 2016 at 2:30 PMIt arrived in the mailbox yesterday but as I have been furiously writing a paper for my PhD program, I couldn’t pick it up. HOWEVER! As soon as I get home tonight I am settling in and unwrapping the envelope. I can’t wait, especially now after hearing your review. Thank you!
Kristin S says
September 20, 2016 at 9:23 PMIsn’t it just so good? It has been an honor to be on her launch team. She’s done it differently from any other I’ve been on. She had weekly book club and we discussed chapters. Thank you Facebook Live. She elaborated on so much that had been edited out. She took us to the football field. SEESTER was there for the chats. I’ve read her blog since the day of the fire but feel like now I’ve heard so much more with holes filled in. It’s just so beautiful. A true memoir.
Ketrah Schreifels says
September 20, 2016 at 9:58 PMWhat a perfect and beautiful job you have done talking about Edie’s story. I actually started reading her blog when the fire happened. I have so enjoyed everything Edie has shared over the past few years and have learned so much from her but I always wanted more….. I would talk to my sisters about this. ” what’s the rest of her story?!”
We are missing something. The book has given all of us that and a whole lot more.. A beautiful story of what happens when we let God direct our paths!
Edie has given the gift of her personal life As a platform for me to share Christ many times over.
Devi says
September 21, 2016 at 6:47 AMI couldn’t put the book down. I think I read it in one afternoon while my three-year-old climbed all over me.
Shannan martin says
September 21, 2016 at 10:21 PMI feel like we lived a similar experience here. I remember that email, remember scrolling through the archives, remember poking around the bruise as if it were my own, and feeling both grateful and weirdly ashamed that it wasnt. I love her book so much. It felt like meeting her again for the first time, and for really-real, so, score.
Beautiful post, Emily.
Paula Tisch says
September 22, 2016 at 1:55 PMSo many of us have pain and loss in our history, I’m encouraged and excited to read Edie’s book. We can always use more hope and it sounds like that is what this book gives. Thank you for writing this review!
Beth williams says
September 22, 2016 at 5:32 PMEmily,
I can relate some to Emily. I, too, understand her deep love and affection towards her dad as well as her misplaced responsibility for him. Now I find myself unemployed and looking after my aging dad. I get the loss of more than “stuff” when fires hit your home. You lose your sense of security and purpose!
Blessings 🙂
beth lehman says
September 26, 2016 at 10:39 AMi distinctly remember that day, too… we were away for christmas when i came across the news of the fire. i have chills thinking about it now. your description of her memoir reminds me of pat conroy or other great southern writers, i can’t wait to read it.