Anne Lamott knows herself well enough to tell her story and respects her craft enough to tell the truth. That alone makes this memoir—her thoughts on faith—worth the price of admission.

Lamott has a wicked sense of self-deprecating humor that disarms the reader. More than once, I literally laughed out loud. Those laughs are never superficial or trite, though. Her prose alternates between humor and poignancy at breakneck speed.

Most inspiring in this memoir was how St. Andrew’s church, the community she found there with her young son, revealed Jesus. Her Pastor Veronica told a story that perfectly echoes Lamott’s:

When she was about seven, her best friend got lost one day. The little girl ran up and down the streets of the big town where they lived, but she couldn’t find a single landmark. She was very frightened. Finally a policeman stopped to help her. He put her in the passenger seat of his car, and they drove around until she finally saw her church. She pointed it out to the policeman, and then she told him firmly, “You could let me out now. This is my church, and I can always find my way home from here.” (55)

The western church, pickled in make-your-own-way individualism, has so much to learn from true community. I’m so thankful that Anne Lamott graced us with her experience.

Lamott, Anne. Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith. Pantheon Books, 1999.