Blog Archives
Starting Over Is Possible
A Place Called Home invites readers on a deeply personal journey through heartbreak, resilience, and reinvention, tracing your transition from a painful divorce to establishing a unique, welcoming household that becomes a refuge for strangers and a sanctuary for yourself and your daughter. Why was this an important book for you to write?
This book had been living inside me for a long time. The experience of creating a new home and family out of a challenging time stayed with me, and I always had a feeling it might help someone else. After my divorce, I didn’t know how I was going to manage—financially or emotionally. But with faith, creativity, and support from others, I found a way forward. Writing A Place Called Home gave me the chance to reflect on that time and hopefully encourage someone else who might be wondering, “How can I do this?” I may not have all the answers, but I hope my story sparks ideas or comfort for someone who needs it.
What were some ideas that were important for you to share in this book?
More than anything, I wanted to share the feeling of community and the power of opening your heart and home to others. The people who came to live with us were going through transitions of their own. Somehow, in supporting each other, we all found a bit of healing. I wanted to show that even if your family looks different than you expected, it can still be full of trust, love, and faith. You don’t need to have it all figured out. Sometimes, the act of taking a step—of saying yes—can lead to beautiful things.
What was the most challenging part of writing your memoir, and what was the most rewarding?
The most challenging part was simply finding the confidence to begin. I’ve always loved the idea of writing a book, but I wasn’t sure I could do it. Thankfully, my daughter encouraged me to try a writing program, and that helped me learn the basics and find a supportive community. From there, the memories just started to flow. The most rewarding part was seeing my thoughts and feelings take shape on the page—especially when I’d read something back and think, “Yes, that’s exactly how it felt.” That was a wonderful feeling.
What do you hope is one thing readers take away from your story?
I hope they come away with a sense of hope. Life has a way of surprising us, especially during times of transition. It’s not always easy, but starting over is possible—and sometimes it leads to something even better than you imagined. I also hope readers feel inspired to advocate for themselves, to reach out, and to trust that the right people and opportunities can show up when you make space for them.
Author Links: GoodReads | Website
When her twenty-year marriage ends, Sharon prays for a way to provide a stable, loving home for herself and her daughter. And it seems like her prayer is answered when she finds the perfect house: old but grand and close to her daughter’s school. There’s just one problem: with a limited income, the only way to afford it would be to share the expenses. But she doesn’t know anyone looking to share a house, and she can’t simply invite perfect strangers to live with her and her daughter. Or can she?
Gathering together an unlikely cast of real-life characters-including a former vaudeville entertainer, one woman facing a life-threatening illness, and a middle-aged teacher with a penchant for Dove Bars, pedicures, and whirlwind cross-country excursions-Sharon strives to turn a group of strangers into a new family. But can they overcome the demons that have torn each of their lives apart?
Join Sharon and her family in this heartwarming memoir about faith, friendship, and a place to call home.
A Place Called Home: A Memoir
In A Place Called Home, Sharon Grace Smith invites readers into a deeply personal journey through heartbreak, resilience, and reinvention. The memoir traces her transition from a painful divorce to establishing a unique, welcoming household that became a refuge for strangers and a sanctuary for herself and her daughter. Set in a charming but neglected old house in the Pacific Northwest, Smith takes a leap of faith, transforming it into a community-centered home that heals and uplifts. Through letters, storytelling, and candid reflection, she unfolds a narrative of risk, reception, and rejoicing—the three parts that shape her compelling life pivot.
Smith’s voice is warm and grounded. Her writing doesn’t hide behind pretension. Instead, it welcomes you in, like a friend with a cup of tea and a cozy chair. The scene where she first lays eyes on the big old house—watching a young man mow the lawn, uncertain but intrigued—felt like the beginning of something magical, though rooted in the grit of real life. I could feel her anxiety and hope intertwine as she considered if this could be “the place” after losing her home and marriage. She doesn’t dramatize. She tells the truth in a way that aches.
One of the most powerful themes in the book is community—how it can be built from scratch, from strangers, even from chaos. When Smith writes about interviewing boarders, I held my breath. This could’ve gone so wrong. But the people who arrive—Eva, Margaret, Jacob, even Jack Daniels are layered, quirky, and full of surprise. Jacob, a logger down on his luck, becomes a kind of handyman guardian, removing forty wheelbarrows of dirt from the basement and lovingly maintaining the old riding lawnmower. These aren’t perfect people. They come with baggage. But Sharon doesn’t ask for perfection. She offers space, and something beautiful grows in return.
What I appreciated most was how the book carries spiritual undertones without preaching. There’s a gentleness in how Smith talks about prayer, intuition, and the presence of angels. It’s not religious—it’s heartfelt. You can feel her trembling hope as she whispers affirmations to herself at night, reminding herself, “I am not alone. I am worthy. I can do this.” It’s not always dramatic. It’s quiet. It’s real. That honesty, that vulnerability, is what made me tear up more than once. Especially when she lets us into her fears—not just of being alone, but of being responsible for everything, again.
A Place Called Home is a memoir for anyone who’s ever lost something big and had to rebuild. It’s for people who believe in second chances, even if they’re scared to take the first step. If you love stories that are tender, thoughtful, and infused with quiet bravery, this book is a must-read. It reminds you that home isn’t a structure. It’s the people, the effort, and the courage to open the door and let the light in.
Pages: 152 | ASIN : B0BC6VW59D
What’s So Bad About Being Poor? Our Lives in the Shadows of the Poverty Experts
Deborah M. Foster’s What’s So Bad About Being Poor? is a gripping exploration of poverty and mental illness through the lens of her own tumultuous family history. Spanning multiple generations, the book deftly intertwines personal memoir with societal critique, offering a candid, often raw account of the struggles her family faced. Foster’s storytelling blends vivid memories, poignant observations, and biting commentary, making it both a heartfelt narrative and a call to action against systemic inequities.
What struck me most was Foster’s ability to illuminate the deep scars poverty leaves, not just on finances but on the human spirit. The opening chapters introduce us to her father, grappling with schizophrenia, and her mother, struggling with bipolar disorder. These challenges, compounded by the weight of economic instability, create an almost suffocating sense of inevitability that permeates the family’s life. One particularly haunting moment involves Foster’s father’s psychotic episode while serving in the Air Force, a turning point that sets the stage for the family’s challenges with mental health and stigma. These moments are rendered with a stark honesty that makes them both heartbreaking and relatable.
Foster’s critique of societal attitudes toward poverty is both personal and razor-sharp. She targets the toxic ideologies of figures like Charles Murray, whose dismissal of poverty as “not so bad” fuels her lifelong determination to counter such views. The book cleverly juxtaposes Murray’s theoretical musings with Foster’s lived reality, exposing the absurdity of detached policymaking. Yet, the book isn’t all gloom. Foster finds moments of resilience and even humor in her family’s chaos. Her descriptions of her mother’s encounters with eccentric faith healers or her father’s UFO theories add a surreal, almost darkly comedic layer to the narrative. These anecdotes, while strange, serve as a reminder of the lengths people will go to find meaning and hope in desperate circumstances. Foster’s ability to weave these lighter threads into her otherwise heavy tale is a testament to her skill as a writer.
What’s So Bad About Being Poor? is as much a memoir as it is a rallying cry. Foster’s journey from a poor, marginalized child to an academic fighting against the very systems that oppressed her family is inspiring. This book is for anyone who wants to understand the lived experience of poverty beyond the numbers and policies. It’s for those who appreciate a narrative that is as fiercely intelligent as it is deeply personal. For me, it was a stark reminder of the resilience of the human spirit, even in the face of unimaginable hardship. Highly recommended.
Pages: 418 | ASIN : B0CQJ3K8SH
