Deciding to read Same Kind of Different As Me was perfect timing. For me, books are like snacks with blank packaging: I know I’m in the mood for a certain type of book, but I can’t tell if it hits the spot until I’ve chewed through a bit. 

I was looking for a story that I would get involved in, something that would grip my attention. I had a stack of books I had started that just didn’t hold my interest because they were too easy to forget about after a week of not reading.

Both friends and strangers said it was a great book, but when I picked it up off my shelf last week, I had no idea what it was about.

I love reading. I go through a lot of books. When I read a really good one, I’ll write convincing reviews to convince/coerce you to go buy your own copy. Or maybe borrow my copy if you promise to treat it well.

The story reminds me of my own story in small ways. It’s a story of two unrelated, disconnected strangers with no likely chance of ever being part of the same story. The only reason the “happy ending”  unfolds is because one person had faith, and God was weaving a thread to stitch the whole disaster together. That happy ending was a miracle, but it carried the weight of grief and sacrifice.

Two men living in the same country, and eventually the same city, but whose lives could not be more opposite.

A lukewarm, “don’t give til it hurts” Christian man who enjoys making and spending big money.

A devoted, stubborn woman who isn’t scared to look infidelity in the eye and admit her role in her husband’s affair.

The coldest, meanest, homeless drifter in Fort Worth, Texas.

All the pieces combine to create a story that proves that dreams and visions can come true.

I believe that I can make my dreams into a reality. Some of my greatest blessings have been laced with grief and sacrifice, just like the one I read about in Same Kind of Different. Just like Deb Hall, I have visions of Rochester and what it would be like if God connected people and softened hearts and rewarded unwavering faith.

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