The more ways you spread The Year of Small Things love, the more likely you are to come out a winner. Literally.
Join us for Saturday’s book signing at Barnes and Noble to pick up a copy (or two) of the book and have it signed by Sarah Arthur and Erin Wasinger. As a thank you for stopping by, we local authors will be giving away TWO $10 Barnes and Noble gift cards!
To enter to win, complete any or all of the prompts listed below. The more you do, the better chance you have for walking out with that gift card!
Saturday’s small things, should you accept:
Bring a friend (you both get an entry!)
Sign up at our table to receive our blog (or put down your email anyway if you already subscribe)
Take a selfie with Erin or Sarah and/ or the book, inside the store (sorry, Mom, you can’t just post my old school photos)
Show us that you posted the photo to Facebook or Instagram with the hashtag #yearofsmallthings
Let us video record you answering this question: “What one small thing are you doing this month?”
We’ll do the drawing at 2:55 PM-ish, and you don’t have to be present to win.
The details you’ll need:
What: Year of Small Things book signing
When: Saturday (March 11) from 1 PM to 3 PM
Where: Barnes and Noble (in the Lansing Mall), 5132 W Saginaw Hwy, Lansing
Cost: Free. Books will be available to purchase. (Makes a great gift or an Easter basket surprise. See: Chapter 5, on Stuff. Books don’t count as stuff to Erin.)
The Year of Small Things is at its essence a church story. The Arthurs and the Wasingers, who committed to a year of small things, don’t operate independent of Sycamore Creek Church. Our prayers and other spiritual disciplines don’t replace worshiping with our people in Lansing and Potterville. So, you can imagine the energy fueling our five-week series.
Fun part: the energy didn’t come from having me and Sarah preach each message. (We didn’t.) Our fellow Sycamore Creek-ers love us, but they are not impressed by us. They’ve seen us trip over a minuscule patch of ice in the parking lot. Spill our coffee. They’ve heard us sing off-key. We have zero celebrity cred.
The energy fueling the series came from a group of people — small groups of people — who are together reading the book and meeting to talk about the small things they’d like to see in their own lives. Imaginations are quicker to spark when discussions are happening in community.
The book makes a great study or series because of its community-oriented nature. So — interested in plugging in a sermon series? Here are the nuts and bolts: The Year of Small Things series is a five-week study of the themes of the book by the same name (we chose covenantal friendship, hospitality, vows, kid monasticism, and self-care). Because our churches are wonderfully diverse (and most don’t know what new monasticism is), we centered our sermons around Hebrews 13, which touches on just about every theme.
Welcome to the world, The Year of Small Things: Radical Faith for the Rest of Us!
Sarah Arthur and Erin F. Wasinger are proud to announce that The Year of Small Things (Brazos Press) is in stores/ online today! The bundle of new monastic, love-your-neighbor, follow-Jesus-right-where-you-are joy could be in your hands now.
The Year of Small Things: Radical Faith for the Rest of Us — releasing Jan. 31, 2017 — is almost here! Want the book in your hand or on your Kindle when it releases? Preorder your copy from a favorite retailer and The Year of Small Things will be yours on the same day it’s released into the wild.
Preorders also make great Christmas gifts — and to give someone something to unwrap on Christmas morning, we’re offering an incentive.
BONUS: Those who already have or will preorder our book receive in January a free download for a printable, artistic-quality calendar! Simply fill out the form with your purchase information below.
Consider the calendar our invitation for you to embark on your own Year of Small Things in 2017!
(At right is a “conceptual preview,” meaning the image and typography might be slightly different.)
Watch our book trailer above to hear more about the authors’ year of small things — and start imagining what God might have in mind for your small things!
I (Sarah) pitched an idea to our two families: what if we all took some of the “radical” Christian practices touted by folks like Shane Claiborne and his community The Simple Way and spent a year growing into them? Can downward mobility for Jesus actually happen with debt and diapers and dishes–in suburbia?
During my husband Tom’s final year (my first) in seminary at Duke Divinity School, he sent out an email to our ethics class. We knew that once I graduated we would be leaving Isaiah House of Hospitality and everything we had learned in community; Tom would become a United Methodist pastor in Michigan, where we came from. Within Methodism’s appointment system, we would not get to choose our zip code, much less our community. And we could be moved annually thereafter.
So Tom’s email was both a question and an invitation.
The question: How do we live out a vision for community, downward mobility, and radical hospitality within the itinerant (and sometimes subtly upwardly mobile) system of mainline denominations?
Innocuous enough, and yet life-changing for the Arthurs. I won’t go into how we fell in love with not only the household but the vision, how we prayed, and talked, and came over for more meals. Suffice it to say, by fall semester we did not renew our lease on the one-bedroom near Duke.
We moved into the ‘hood–and stayed. For three years we shared a household with other community members committed to simplicity, hospitality, sustainability, and reconciliation—as well as with women and children in transition out of homelessness.
You know that feeling of regional vertigo, when you’ve been traveling so long that when you climb out of the car or step off the plane you can barely remember your own name, much less what state or country you’re in?
Maybe you’re hungry, and you think, “I’ll just grab a burrito from Cosmic Cantina on the way to the hotel,” and then you realize that Cosmic Cantina is roughly 867 miles away, and you haven’t a clue where to get food around here. Yeah, that. In addition to the bodily weirdness of traveling so far, there’s now a mini existential crisis, a spiritual displacement, as if your very identity, including the God you worship, is now up for grabs.
All because you walk on unfamiliar ground. Which is another way of saying that place matters.
“I think we’re almost there,” I (Sarah) said, hands at ten and two on the wheel of the moving truck we had called home for the past thirty hours. As we eased down the suburban-country road south of Lansing, Michigan that Memorial Day morning seven years ago, our rusty Subaru trailering behind us, Tom and I gazed with interest out the truck windows. A newish subdivision, a church or two. Two farm stands (hooray!), followed by a barn with pygmy goats, and then more subdivisions. Garage sale signs by the dozens. Bus stops. Most properties well-manicured, even picturesque. And then–unexpectedly–a trailer park, across from which we read the sign for yet another subdivision, “English Meadows.”