Too Many Books

There they sit, accusingly, on the bookshelf.  A half-dozen or more books that I have acquired over the past several months with the intent of reading them 'some day'.  These are not all the books I have accumulated this year, mind you, just the ones I haven't read, yet.  A row of shame, sitting in front of another row of books on the shelf.  My fellow book-hounds know all about double-parking books when your book-cases reach capacity.  But now I have clearly reached a tipping point, a watershed.  I am acquiring books faster than I can read them.  In earlier days, I would find a book that I was interested in, purchase it, and read it.  Or maybe two.  But now the collection of unread books is well beyond that.  I am somewhat afraid to take an actual inventory to find out just how many there are.

Impulse acquisitions.  I assume everyone makes them.  In the category of "Things we don't need, but…"  

What is it about books that when I see one, I think, 'Oh, that would be REALLY interesting'?  As I stand there at the New Arrivals table in Barnes & Noble hefting this treasure in my hand, do I even consider all the books at home I haven't yet read, that I won't have time to read if I read this one?  Including all those Great Books that are vital to my intellectual and spiritual growth?  I have a vague plan to read more of those, as well.  In the mean time, in spite of the avalanche of new media that threatens to bury traditional books, new volumes come out every year that capture my attention.  Just yesterday, I saw two more books (three, actually) referenced in National Review that I added to my mental wish list.  One thing I can say, is that I no longer read simply out of necessity, or to conquer the 'Great Books' list.  I find myself inclining towards history more and more: stories of real people, whose significance is far more intriguing to me because they walked this planet and breathed this air and lived a life with all its joys and sorrows.  People who should not be forgotten.  And that, more than anything, explains why my library will keep growing.

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving Day is less than three hours away.  A 24-pound turkey just went into the oven for its slow roast until tomorrow.  My daughters and their cousins are dancing in the living room to music by The Piano Guys.  My wife and I share tired, knowing looks across the room.  Both of us would rather they and we be in bed.  But this late-night frivolity is a rare treat for our band of happy girls.  So, we give free rein.

To prepare for Thanksgiving, Karen started wending her way through 1000 Gifts at the beginning of November; recording things she is thankful for each day.  It seems a simple thing, but practicing eucharisteo (New Testament Greek for "be grateful, feel thankful, give thanks") by a daily habit of writing down three thanks results in the accumulation of over 1000 gratitudes in a year.  While there are many, many, many things I am thankful for, I have yet to develop the habit of recording small thanks every day.  

Though I may not come up with another 997 before the end of the year, here are three simple gifts I am grateful for today.

Glasses.  At this point in my life, they are on my face most waking hours.  For many years, it was just a work thing - a necessary token of hours in front of a computer screen.  Now, any task requiring rudimentary visual acuity has me bellowing "Where are my glasses?"  So, I am thankful to have them.

Running.  Last November, I injured a ligament in my left hip.  A month ago I was despairing that I would ever be able to run without aching the rest of the day.  But, about that time, a corner was turned.  While I still have an occasional twinge,  I will celebrate this Thanksgiving with no limp and little thought for the hobbling figure I was last year.

Hot beverages.  I rarely start a workday without a proper "cuppa" tea (PG Tips) and feel the loss if my weekend date with Karen does not include a latte.   The warm mug comforts my chilled, bony fingers and nothing clears the morning fog away like a gentle jolt of caffeine.  

It is easy for me to see the flaws of life I encounter in a fallen world and take for granted the innumerable blessings that surround me.  Today, I choose to recognize the gifts of grace.

It Happened Again

I have noticed something every morning since November 6th.  The sun has come up without fail.  Yes, I was disappointed by the results of our recent election.  A cultural tipping point was reached where people voted for more government and government-defined rights (as opposed to God-given rights).  Here in California, higher taxes were approved.  Elsewhere, voters enshrined a new 'right' of marriage for any couple of any gender combination.  Our re-elected president is truly representative of a changing America.

I tend to side with the Ron Paul.  Just give me liberty as evidenced by a much smaller, less-intrusive government.  But whether renewal of liberty ever happens in the United States of America, the future is as much in the hands of Providence as it has ever been.  If we are called to live our faith in more difficult times, we are in good company.  Whenever I am inclined to pessimism (which is often), I re-read these words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer on January 1, 1943, less than four months before he would be imprisoned by a Nazi regime that would execute him two years later:

"...some Christians think it impious for anyone to hope and prepare for a better earthly future.  They think that the meaning of the present events is chaos, disorder, and catastrophe; and in resignation or pious escapism they surrender all responsibility for reconstruction and for future generations.  It may be that the day of judgement will dawn tomorrow; in that case, we will gladly stop working for a better future.  But not before."  (Letters & Papers From Prison)

Bathroom Trauma at Grandma Gene's

Bathroom competency is a key developmental marker of early childhood.  Parents dream of the day when they no longer have to worry about an 'accident'.  In the child's mind, two concerns are uppermost with regards to the bathroom: getting there on time and a toilet that works. Truth be told, even adults fret over those same things.  The quantity of emotional capital invested by both parents and progeny trying to avoid bathroom failure no doubt explains why the following events are so clear in my mind.

Our trailer park years were spent without a television.  The lack of an 'idiot box', as my Mom occasionally referred to T.V., contributed to my being an avid reader.  It also made the hour or so of television rationed to us at Grandma Gene's a coveted treat.  There were two afternoon programs I remember distinctly: Dialing for Dollars at 3:00, and a kids program hosted by Johnny Downs 30 minutes later.  One particular afternoon, Phil was napping as the time for the Johnny Downs show approached, having already slept through Dialing For Dollars.  Anticipating how grumpy he would be if he missed the entire afternoon's allotment of television, I rushed in to get him from the bedroom.  Not wanting to miss any of the program myself, I half-drug Philip out to the living room, where we stopped and stood watching just as the show started.  On the oval rug in front of us was the the Gardner's old dachshund ‘Snitzer’.  While dachshunds can be small, hyper and annoying, Snitzer was larger, older, and mostly quiet.  His favorite place was the large oval rug in the center of the living room which also happened to be directly in front of the television.

As we stood watching the black and white screen, events took a dramatic turn.  Snitzer yelped and darted for the kitchen.  I looked down and saw a stream of liquid arcing from Phil to the oval rug on the floor.  In horror I yelled, "What are you doing?"

The next thing I knew, Grandma Gene, alerted by the commotion, appeared in the doorway.  I cannot imagine how the two of us looked, standing rather stupidly by a large wet spot on the rug.  The rug went out in short order, reappearing some days later, presumably after a trip to the dry cleaners.  From then on, I made sure Philip hit the bathroom any time I decided to get him up from a nap.

On another afternoon when I was in 3rd or 4th grade, I meandered over to Grandma Gene’s after school as usual.  It was one of those warm, bright days common to Fallbrook in the late spring.  As was our practice, I entered the house by the back door which opened to the kitchen.  Oddly, no-one seemed to be there.  I called out.  No answer.  I walked through the house and went out to the garage.  Nobody.  The chinchilla side of it was locked.  I walked completely around the house and the garage.  Deserted.  Then, with a chill of fear like I’d never known, it hit me: the Rapture had taken place and I’d been Left Behind.  Though reasonably confident in my child-like faith, I had a lingering fear that due to some misunderstanding, I might be left out when Jesus returned.  Now, it seemed I had been.  Why else would the house be empty with the door unlocked?  I wandered around for a few more minutes pondering my fate.  I decided my only option was to walk home and find out if any of my family remained.  Which would not be so good for them, but at least I could share this dire destiny with someone I knew.  Before setting out on the trek for home, I desperately needed to go to the bathroom.  Though it felt odd to be using the facilities without permission, I reasoned that the place was now abandoned.  Who would care?  But, when I flushed, the toilet started to back up!  To my relief, the rising water stopped just short of running over.  Not knowing what to do and with no-one around to ask, I left things in that precarious state and trudged home.

When I arrived in something less than an hour, I found out that my sisters and brother had not been raptured either.  When Mom came home a bit later, she reminded me that I had been told to take the school bus home because Grandma Gene was out of town that day.  The next morning, we were dropped off at Grandma Gene's as usual.  Before Mom left, to my embarrassment, I heard a wry remark about how I’d left my ‘calling card’.  Still, that was a minor inconvenience in the context of my relief at knowing I did not have to face the Tribulation.