So, for as long as I can remember…pretty much my whole life, I’ve loved books and reading and writing. When I was younger, it didn’t matter if I was going to the grocery store with my mom or we were going on vacation, I had to take SOMETHING to read with me. It may have been a book, a magazine, but it had to be something. As I grew older, around 14-15 I was still doing the same thing and my parents would tell me I would never learn my way around town because I never paid attention – I was always reading something in the car. Thank goodness for small towns? haha. I do distinctly remember one summer after working as a counselor all week driving up to Fort Fairfield (or maybe Fort Kent) in Maine to meet up with other counselors for a fourth of July thing and I was driving myself in the Cappucino Mobile (an old volvo station wagon we had). After everything, I had followed people up there, but had to get home myself. I knew the “general” direction I needed to go in… haha. I somehow managed to end up in Easton completely around Presque Isle on the opposite side I lived on. Very amusing. Did I learn my lesson? No. Perhaps this is why I am always obsessive about getting directions before going anywhere, even if they’re general, I need more specific. I have a relatively good sense of direction in areas I know well and can find my way around fairly if I know the general direction of several landmarks (ie. if you’re in the mountains, 105, 221, 321, and 421 will all lead you somewhere near Boone).
Anyway, let’s just call me a person addicted to books. I briefly considered teaching Reading. I remember most of the books we read in class in high school and middle school. I loved it. In college I could still do some reading for pleasure. In the summers it was easy to do. Since strating to teach, a lot of time is reading things professionally for enrichment or for enhancement and encouragement in character, such as the books we read in small group or when I mentioned reading Eleven by Len Sweet or In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day by Mark Batterson. I think all of these books surfaced at a perfect time for me. It’s been a great while since I’ve really read a good fiction book just because and had time to read it start to finish within a relatively continuous amount of time (ie. within a few days…or hours as the case may be).
In the last couple of weeks I’ve been able to really feed this addiction, happily. I pulled myself away from several other books and forced myself to pick up a fiction book for pleasure. Hence, I ended up with the first book in Francine Rivers’ Mark of the Lion series. I already wrote about that and how it ruined me. I got the second book last Friday night and finished it yesterday. Yet again, it continued the process of ruining me and wrecking me. If anyone hasn’t read these books, you’re missing something special. The way she writes the books as a fictional history of the times of the Roman empire and how one girl lived out her faith…man, it pulls at your heart. It may be fictional, but it really taught me a lot about myself, about faith, promises we have in the Lord, and challenged me spiritually. That is a good, worthwhile fiction book.
I’ve gotten another book I’m in the process of reading. I’m about half way through. I started it yesterday when I picked it up. I think my favorite thing about all of this time I’m getting to read and the quality of the reading (and writing) is that for once…they’re more than about 25 pages, in English (though I’d gladly read another novel in Spanish, done it before for school and pleasure), and all 3 of the most recent books…have been over 400 pages. I seriously get swept up into another world. Having not read a fiction book so consistently in the most recent months, nice to know I still have it… haha. I can still read with the best of them at my favorite pace…consistent, continuous, and fast.