True Love

A dear friend of mine bought me this coffee mug a while back. I assured my husband that it's only partially true. I do love him, too. Really I do. But books. What can I say? I pretty much have an insatiable appetite for them. I laugh at myself - and the evidence of my ADD - because I often have multiple books going at any given time. They pile up on my nightstand. Fiction, non-fiction, memoirs, you name it.

But just to be clear, I haven't always been a lover of the written word. As a child, I much preferred climbing trees, roller skating, and hopping around on my Pogo Stick to laying around with my nose in a book. In fact, it wasn't until high school before I realized I actually quite enjoyed a quite Saturday afternoon with a Danielle Steele novel or something of the like.

Up until then, I avoided reading at all costs. I even have a confession. When I was in the 5th grade, I once cheated on an oral book report. Okay, maybe I cheated more than once. Mrs. K regularly made us get up in front of the class and give a summary of the books we'd read. One time, I got up and talked about the book Sounder, by William H. Armstrong. Pretty sure I skimmed the back of the book and made it all up. Things were going just fine, until Mrs. K asked what I thought of the ending.

"It was good," I said. "They all lived happily ever after." Later, on the playground, a friend who actually read the book told me I was full of crap. Thankfully, Mrs. K didn't call me out on it publicly or embarrass me. She is a sweet soul. Probably in her 80's by now; I'll never forget her. Anyway, my friend told me that the dog, Sounder, died at the end of the story. Well, that changes everything, doesn't it?

Not sure what I was thinking - or that I was really thinking at all. When I look back on my childhood, I realize how much I cheated myself by not giving books their deserved attention. Thankfully, I've made up for lost time. Not only have I gobbled up most of the children's and young adults classics, I got to dive into literature in college and spend some time swimming in everything from Shakespeare to Jane Austin, English Romantic poets, American literature, and everything in between. Be still my heart.

Needless to say, Amazon is a very, very good friend, as well as the public library. Last week my pile was getting a little out of hand. For book club, I finished I'll Push You, by Patrick Gray and Justin Skeesuck. A very inspiring true story about two best friends, one with a degenerative neurological disease; the other who pushed him in a wheelchair across the Camino de Santiago, a 500-mile trek through Spain. I also read Traveling Mercies, by Anne Lamott. I'd heard of her, but never had the chance to pick up one of her books. Her transparency and humor had me transfixed. Still another in my pile was The Day The World Came To Town, by Him Defede. It was a perfect read for the anniversary week of 9/11, since it's about the town of Gander, Newfoundland, and how this small Canadian town lovingly played host to over 6000 people for four days after U.S. airspace was shut down.

Two other books are still in progress: A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss, by Jerry Sittser (Oh my gosh! This book is so good, I've been savoring it slowly.) And Understanding Your Suicide Grief: Ten Essential Touchstones for Finding Hope and Healing in Your Heart, by Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD. I'm reading through this one chapter by chapter with my grief support group.

So what's the point of all this book talk? You ask. Only to say that the only way I'm going to get through my grief journey is to keep feeding my mind with positive thoughts and words. I'm grateful to the people who have shared their stories through the written word, because they inspire me to keep going. I hope and pray that someday, I'll have some wisdom and insight to share as well.

For now, it's time to snuggle up with my mug, a blanket, and one of my books.