As a child I loved to read. I'd spend hours on a Sunday afternoon curled upstairs on the attic floor, outside on top of the "big rock" in the woods or in the car on rainy days laying on the seat with my feet in the window. I traveled many mental miles to Greece, Burma, antebellum southern plantations. I was ten years old when I first developed this insatiable appetite for the printed page reading classics like The Illiad, The Oddessy, The Burma Surgeon, civil war tales of love and slavery. I dreamed of being a foreign correspondent, of traveling the world fighting injustices of the day.
Mildred Green was the Librarian at our school, and she was also a dear family friend. Almost every teacher at that small country school were family/church friends or connected to us personally in some way. Each Friday I'd faithfully go to the library and select my "stack" of weekend reading material guided by the suggestion of Mrs. Green, who had read every book on the library walls. She knew how to stimulate my active imagination, and I was always astounded at her knowledge of any subject matter. She was an amazing lady, and a dear and cherished childhood friend.
I still love to read, although I don't have as much time these days. I have several "old friends" I visit, like old movies I play and replay. Lost in the stories, adventures, imaginations of those who write the tales. Over the years I've made attempts to capture my thoughts on paper, yet the enthusiasm I felt as a child has waned. As I aged life happened, and with the needs of every day survival I have lost the desire to dream.
When my children were younger we read all the time. I encouraged it. I created dramas using the stuffed animals, bringing life to every day adventures. Personalities stuck and as the children grew up and became young adults the memories of the characters has continued to live on in their hearts. Today I am remembering those days at my grandparents' home. The people who touched my life and help to birth the imagination that is now held captive in this adult form. Everyone I knew then has died, and I am left alone to either remain paralyzed and fearful or to make an effort to find and rebirth the excitement and dare to live again.
I am reminded of the story of Moses and the exodus from Egypt. As Joshua is beginning to lead the people of Israel into the Promised Land, Moses reminds them of the faithfulness of God during their 40 year trek through the wilderness. He tells them that God has set before them life and death. Which will they choose?
Today as I listen to the birds singing, the breeze gently blowing, wind chimes ringing I feel energized and able to try again. To embrace life with enthusiasm. Eager to live! Join me, won't you?!
