I wish I could spend a whole day reading. A whole week would be really magical.
Feet up on the porch. Stretched out on the couch. Curled up with a latte in a Starbucks leather armchair. Just reading.
I love to read.
And I would love to be reading all the great books stacked on top of my printer and the ones in the green bag beside by bed and the ones stuffed in my nightstand and in the back of every deep desk drawer.
I want to start reading The Artist's Daughter, an intriguing memoir and the MOPS theme book of the year. I want to dig into one of the novels my mom passed on to when me I was collecting stuff for our Goodwill fundraising drive. I want to delve deeper into Wild Things so I can learn the art of nurturing boys. I want to soak up every word of One Thousand Gifts and practice eucharisteo till I've been wholly, holy transformed, too. And I want to read my Bible without worrying about the clock. I want God's truth to wash over me all tired body and wearied soul and drink deep the Word of Life.
But opening a book takes time. Putting eyes on pages and digesting each word seen into understanding takes focus.
My time and focus is mostly spent elsewhere.
* * *
...Oh, but am I reading what I do see?
Am I being purposeful to learn my children? To read all their quirks, talents, desires, and fears? Am I understanding all they have to teach me? Am I laughing at and cherishing and relishing in each of their beautiful stories as they unfold before my eyes?
Some days, yes. Yes, a lot of days I do.
But surely too many moments go by with my eyes glazed over and these three remarkable full-of-life stories become a hazy blur of chaos, needs, redundancy, and messes.
And I forget to focus. Forget to stop and appreciate each amazing page of creative, instructive, and inspiring reading material
right.
in.
front.
of me.
I want to start reading The Artist's Daughter, an intriguing memoir and the MOPS theme book of the year. I want to dig into one of the novels my mom passed on to when me I was collecting stuff for our Goodwill fundraising drive. I want to delve deeper into Wild Things so I can learn the art of nurturing boys. I want to soak up every word of One Thousand Gifts and practice eucharisteo till I've been wholly, holy transformed, too. And I want to read my Bible without worrying about the clock. I want God's truth to wash over me all tired body and wearied soul and drink deep the Word of Life.
But opening a book takes time. Putting eyes on pages and digesting each word seen into understanding takes focus.
My time and focus is mostly spent elsewhere.
* * *
...Oh, but am I reading what I do see?
Am I being purposeful to learn my children? To read all their quirks, talents, desires, and fears? Am I understanding all they have to teach me? Am I laughing at and cherishing and relishing in each of their beautiful stories as they unfold before my eyes?
Some days, yes. Yes, a lot of days I do.
But surely too many moments go by with my eyes glazed over and these three remarkable full-of-life stories become a hazy blur of chaos, needs, redundancy, and messes.
And I forget to focus. Forget to stop and appreciate each amazing page of creative, instructive, and inspiring reading material
right.
in.
front.
of me.
No comments:
Post a Comment