Friday, November 6, 2015

The book that made her cry

One of the things I wrestled with over the topsy-turvy summer was the bombardment of all things that wanted the spotlight in my life--and the sadness and realization that the one thing that repeatedly got the best of me was the one thing that never even cared about me (or my family).

It's been great having Lanie at home this year. She loves it. I love it. And still I struggle at holding that thing at bay as it pulls and grabs at me to make it number one. I push it back to its side of the line.

So many times Lanie had said to me over these years, little hints and insights into her heart: a favorite song, activity or book. I was too distracted to give her my full attention. She had a favorite story or two, Treasures in the Snow (it took me over a year to get around to reading it) coming first to mind, I knew I had to make the time for this small slice of life. When my (once) elementary girl would tell me about her favorite story, I had to read it. And my (now) middle school teenage girl tells me there was a book that made her cry, I had to read it too.

Found Things, by Marilyn Hilton (not paid or compensated to share my thoughts or even read the book--unless you call the rich treasure of sharing a story with my daughter payment/compensation), reads across the back of its hard cover: Wishes are powerful things.

An ancients reading list of history and literature, keeping up with Erin's science-history-literature readings as well as grammar and math and geography, Lanie's own courses and, let us not forget home/yard/laundry/church/interests, I was finding it hard to get to this story. And something in me knew I had to do it ... now into a week of no extra renewals at the library and growing late fees. Last night I buckled down at the skating rink and read as much as I could, head nodding and bobbing from a 3 a.m. wake-up.

I finished it just now.

I finished the book that made Lanie cry. She was sweeping in the kitchen when I looked up with tears in my own eyes.

"Did you finish it?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, refusing to let tears fall and blinking them back quickly.

"Did you love it?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. Because I love her--and the story was good too. One of love and sacrifice and forgiveness and hope and children welcome to the fold. I asked her, "What part made you cry?"

Though I thought I knew, and she confirmed it. But for me? It would come at the very end of the book, in the acknowledgments:

"And to God who makes all things possible, all things new."


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