Confessions of a Former Reader

{image credit here}

I used to be an avid reader. I devoured books. Inhaled them. I would stay up all hours of the night to finish just one more chapter, which, in actuality turned into reading the entire book in one sitting. I loved books. When I was a little girl, my mom would take me to the library, and I'd max out my library card on Nancy Drew mysteries and Sweet Valley Twins volumes. In high school, my obsession with Mary Higgins Clark novels led me to read every single book she ever wrote. In college, I read anything and everything I could get my hands on.

Then I went to seminary, and my days of reading for pleasure ended abruptly. I had no time to read for pleasure after I finished reading for class. And let me tell you: there was lots of reading for class. We read books and wrote reviews to sharpen our critical thinking skills, and apparently those skills needed lots of sharpening, because I read hundreds of books and thousands of pages for my classes.

During each semester, I compiled a list of books that I would like to read, if only I had the time. But I never had the time. I always imagined that after graduation I would pick up where I left off in my love affair with books.

But it seems that books and I are still taking a break in our relationship. I honestly do not remember the last book I read from cover to cover, and that's a shame, because we really did have a good thing going back in the day.

I'm trying to repair our broken relationship, but it's not easy. My attention span just isn't what it used to be, and sometimes taking a nap is a lot more appealing than opening a book. But I'm trying. I started by purchasing one of the books on my wish list: The God I Don't Understand, by Christopher Wright. And I'm making progress. Just last night I turned the page on chapter five.

In addition to actually purchasing a book, I have also signed up as a reviewer for Book Sneeze, a book review program offered by Thomas Nelson. Basically, I receive free books in exchange for blogging book reviews. I like free books. Don't you? I should be receiving my first book soon. Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it later.

Reading is a discipline that I have neglected lately, but it's a discipline that's absolutely necessary for any writer. All good writers are voracious readers. That's just how it is. You cannot be a good writer unless you are first a good reader. I'm afraid that the drought in my writing life is directly tied to the drought in my reading life. Reading introduces me to fresh ideas and even sharpens my critical thinking skills.

I guess the professors knew what they were doing when they forced us to read.

But I will never forgive a certain church history professor for making me read all 736 pages of Creeds of the Churches. Never. I'm just saying.

All of this thought about books has made me wonder what everyone else is reading these days. What's on your nightstand? What should I add to my reading list? Go on and tell me. I want to know!

Until next time, grace and peace.

It's the Little Things

My baby girl turned 10 months old Saturday. As she gets older and starts looking more like a little girl and less like a baby, it's the little things I want to remember.

Like these chubby little legs.

This excitable nature.

And this sweet little spot on the back of her neck.

This innocent delight.

And, of course, these bright blue eyes and two tiny teeth.

I could go on and on. At 10 months old, Micah has a fearlessness that I envy and a mischievousness that gets her in trouble. She plays peek-a-boo with us, crinkles up her little nose and snorts at us, follows us, and climbs all over us. She's on the verge of walking and takes every opportunity to practice standing up. Though she started out as a picky eater, now she'll eat anything we put in front of her, but she has a fondness for Cheerios and bananas that can't be beat. She's sweet and funny and easy-going and happy and as delightful as a little girl can be.

As she grows up before my eyes, It's the little things I want to savor and remember. Soon her mouth will be filled with lots of tiny little teeth. That sweet spot on the back of her neck will be covered with blonde curls, and the chub will fall off her little legs. But her eyes will always be bright blue. And I pray that she'll keep her innocent delight and sense of adventure. Right now, the little things are the precious things in our lives.

Until next time, grace and peace.

Rufus the Immovable Turtle

I grew up eating watermelon and shooting fireworks on the Fourth of July, but when I married Dennis, I was introduced to another brand of Independence Day festivities. What could be more exciting than watermelon and fireworks, you ask? Catfish and turtle races. Every year, the fine people at the church Dennis grew up in host a catfish fry and turtle race to celebrate the Fourth of July. It's always an event to remember. Not only is the catfish amazing {so I hear, I'm not a catfish connoisseur}, the turtle race is also a source of delight for both kids and adults.

The hunt for turtles begins weeks before the race. In years past, my father-in-law has been known to drag the pond to catch a slew of turtles. For a couple of years, the Jones family supplied many a kid in Cato with a turtle to enter in the race. We always had a winner, since we held a couple of practice rounds in the yard before we headed off to the race.

That's not cheating, is it??

But this year, there was no pond dragging. Micah and her cousins had one turtle to share between them. Lauren (my niece) dubbed him Rufus. We painted his name on his back, loaded him in a bucket, and headed off to church, sure that he would give the other turtles a run for their money.

Not so. Rufus didn't move. At all. The race began, and other turtles scurried to the edge of the circle. But not Rufus. He stayed put. Never moved a muscle.

So much for our winning streak.

There's always next year, right??

Until next time, grace and peace.