I think it's safe to say that Andrew Peterson's The Wingfeather Saga changed my life forever.

The first time I finished the series, I snapped the book shut, chucked it across the room, and stared at the wall for about thirty minutes.

When those thirty minutes were over, I picked it up gingerly, apologized for throwing it, and cracked it open again.

That couldn't be the end.

That couldn't be the end.

That couldn't…be… the end.

There had to be another page. Another chapter. Another book.

Tears streamed down my face. I couldn't make them stop. My heart hurt. Everything hurt. I couldn't believe what I had just read.

Then, somehow, I smiled.

I closed the book.

And I thought,

That is the greatest story I have ever heard.

And I have never changed that belief.

The Wingfeather Saga reminded me that joy is stronger than despair, that love is worth every sacrifice, and that hope has the final word. It made me laugh harder than almost any book I've ever read, cry more than I thought possible, and love more deeply than I knew a story could teach me to love.

Andrew Peterson didn't just write a story I enjoyed.

He gave me one that became part of who I am.