There are some books that call out to you from the shelf. Maybe you're perusing a thrift shop, look up to the dusty top shelf, and see it smiling down at you. Maybe you just walked into your local branch of a big store chain, you know exactly which book you want, but you leave with four or five because you just can't leave friends behind!

I was shelving books in the poetry section at work this summer when it happened. Working my way backwards from Whitman to Emerson, somewhere in the middle my eyes stopped on a simple black book - and I am so glad they did! I'm sure you've heard the phrase, "Don't judge a book by its cover," but honestly - that is my first means of deciding whether or not a book is worth my time. (Probably best to only apply that principle to the judging of humans rather than actual books, then.) Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur passed the test, and its elegant and minimalist design sold me.

My last day working at the bookstore was uneventful, except for the canvas bag of books that I carried out of the store. Milk and Honey was resting on top of the stack, and a day later - as my family drove to Lake Michigan in our little van - I was wrapped up in Kaur's poetic world.

The book itself is what you would call an "easy read"; I managed to finish the whole thing within two hours. But do not mistake this to mean that it is a common or lesser book - in fact, take it to mean the opposite: a book of poetry that can be read in two hours, yet still strikes the soul on every page is anything but common.

As the car took to the vast stretch between Eastern Iowa and Southern Illinois, I read through the sections of Kaur's artistic story. As the waves lapped up on the beach of Lake Michigan, I soaked in the words like they were from the mouth of someone whom I knew loved me completely as I am. Milk and Honey is broken into four sections, each one reaching out to its reader and saying calmly, "You are not alone, I've been in this place too. This dark place, this bright place. I've felt this pain before, I'm feeling this love now. We're together and that's what matters."

Through the sections, "The Hurting", "The Loving", "The Breaking", and "The Healing", my heart grew a little. Themes of the bonds of womanhood, beauty throughout cultures, love in compromising circumstances, and overcoming abuse radiate through Kaur's statement like phrasing.

Looking up from the last page, I looked out over the waves. My family was scattered along the beach, either dipping their toes in the water or shivering a bit from the wind as they stayed far away from the chilly lake. The soft air shifted around me like a hug, and I flipped back several pages to one specific poem:

"you deserve to be
completely found
in your surroundings
not lost within them"
- Rupi Kaur

And in that moment, with those waves, with those people, with those words ringing in my heart, I knew she was right. See, words have the power to inspire, to comfort, to change. And Rupi Kaur's Milk and Honey does all three.

So, if you're in need of a friend this week - stop by Steven's #5. I've got a black-bound book that just might be what you're looking for.