What’s On Your End Table?

Talking about books, both good and bad, got me to thinking about the books surrounding me; those I am reading, the books I have yet to read, and the shelves of research books for current projects.

These are the books currently on my end table next to the couch, where I sit every morning, imbibing in coffee from my very large mug. Among the books you will see a devotional from Max Lucado, the Bible, and a Bible study I currently facilitate. There are also two non-fiction books dealing with writing. This stack will vary as I complete one book and start another. As much as I hate to admit it, the truth is that the Bible and the devotional were added to daily reading just since David’s death. Now, I wouldn’t want to begin a day without either. The devotional changes, too, as I complete one and begin another. There will often be a fiction book added to this stack, as well.

The middle row of books on this bookshelf is mostly fiction books on my “to-read” list.:

Then there is a bottom shelf of mostly non-fiction books to read:

Books on the upper shelf of my desk, mostly reference for current works in progress, and/or subjects of interest for a future project.

And one of my favorite shelves of books; signed copies of books from authors I have met:

This is just the tip of the iceberg. There are many more shelves of books in my home, of course, mostly hardcover copies of favorite books. Despite the wide assortment of books available within an arm’s reach, I still can’t stop at a library without picking up yet more books:

Now that you’ve gotten a peek into my book world, please share with me what is on YOUR end table.

A Matter of Perspective

My sister Joan brought some of my mother’s things to my house to be dispersed among siblings. My grandmother Elizabeth’s favorite coffee cup was among those things. I thought it might be appropriate to give to my daughter Elizabeth, who was named after both her father and her mother’s grandmothers. While I was washing it, I set it next to MY favorite coffee cup in comparison.

I can’t imagine imbibing in my morning jolt of caffeine via the tiny receptacle my grandmother favored. I imagine she might have been equally appalled by the mammoth size of my cup.

It’s all a manner of perspective, isn’t it?

This past week the topic of the Bible study I facilitate was “Faithfulness.” I really struggled with this topic, for some reason, and wasn’t sure why. When I contemplated “faithfulness” it was within the confines of a marriage relationship, which I no longer have. Of course, as a facilitator, I feel responsible to serve as an example at each study, and God had certainly been faithful each of the previous weeks in providing one. However, by the last morning of this particular study, I found myself just looking to the heavens and saying, “I got nothing, God. What am I supposed to do?” With my husband’s wise words (just tell the truth) echoing in my head, I admitted as much to the group before we began. Afterwards, someone approached me and thanked me for my honesty, commenting that it had been very refreshing. By the end of the evening I ‘d learned so much from the group’s comments that I thought I had a pretty good grasp of what faithfulness meant outside of a spousal relationship. Faithfulness to God meant I should not stray from the very clear path set for me by his WORD.

I was too tired to write and not bored enough to turn on the television when I got home at 8:30 pm, so I picked up a book a friend had recommended as an example of fine literature. It had arrived in the mail earlier in the day from PaperbackSwap.com and I’d set it on my end table on top of the devotionals I read from each morning. The writing had been compared to Anne Tyler’s, an author I have enjoyed on occasion. Within the first half hour of reading, I was recoiling with revulsion at the character’s choices in their marriage, but I continued reading. Why? Because the book had been recommended to me, and I was certain there had to be some redeeming value to it. Yes, the author’s descriptive qualities and odd characterizations could be compared to Tyler’s, but the resemblance ended there. I greatly disliked all four of the main characters almost immediately, and Tyler’s characters, while eccentric, were at least likable.

Against my better judgment, I continued reading, until I couldn’t stand any more. I began flipping through the end pages, looking for some sort of explanation for their depravity. Increasingly frustrated, I finally concluded that despite this author’s obvious success (several of his books had been made into movies) I’d just wasted several precious reading hours. At midnight,  I trashed the book. Literally.

If good writing is that which stays with you, then by that account this particular book was well-written, because by morning I was still thinking about it. That made me angry. Since my husband’s death, I like to start my day with God. I was angry at myself for reading a book I wouldn’t have chosen myself, angry at my friend for suggesting it, and most definitely angry at an author who chooses to write something that is obviously a thinly-veiled portrayal of his own perverted fantasies.

Then it hit me: I knew, without a doubt, that by continuing to read that book, I had not been faithful to God. The message was clear and unmistakable. The example from our Bible study’s DVD came to mind; If our spouse came to us, elated that they had been 98% faithful, would we be satisfied?  Of course not. If we live a Godly life 98% of the time and stray off the righteous path only occasionally, does it really matter?From my perspective in trying to live as an example of Christ, yes, it does.

Yes, it did occur to me as I pulled the book out of the garbage, tore it in half and took a match to it over my sink, that perhaps I was over-reacting with my righteous anger of Biblical proportions. And maybe it was not a good idea to start a fire, however small, inside my own house.

Or maybe it was perfectly understandable, considering I have over fifty specimens of quality literature already on my “to-read” shelves. Maybe my attitude was completely justified, considering the Bible study I’d attended the night before, the marriage relationship I’d taken seriously for nearly 33 years, and my commitment to remain faithful to the fire of faith inside my heart. Maybe all of that warranted my reaction and a blog posting.

It was just a book, I imagine some of my readers might be thinking about now. It’s not like you were living the life depicted within its pages.

I guess it just depends upon your perspective.

From mine, reading about it is nearly the same thing. And I am appalled.

Mother’s Day Musings…and drawing winner!

It is Mother’s Day; my third without my mother, and my second without my husband. All over the Internet and Facebook I view postings about lessons we have learned from our mothers. While I learned much about mothering, faith, and creativity from my own mother, for some reason this morning it is the lessons I learned from my husband that are uppermost in my mind. The truth is, David will always be a part of me, and since his death, I find myself repeating some of his phrases and contemplating our relationship. Live with someone for nearly 33 years and you are bound to learn something from them. I am lucky to have had such a wonderful man in my life, a man whose wise words now echo inside my head.

Life is short. David appreciated life. He’d survived a serious car accident at age 19 and cancer in 2006. When he was going to turn 60, I’d asked him if that birthday ending in zero bothered him, and he’d quickly replied, “No. Think of the alternative.”

David had dreams. There were things he’d talked about doing “someday”: visiting Alaska, flying in an airplane, learning to do some carpentry, traveling with me when the kids were gone. There were many things we never got to experience together, but he would be the first to advise me to live life to the fullest. I am certain he would have said; “If there is something you’ve always wanted to do, do it. If you have a chance at love or if there’s something you’ve been afraid to try, don’t wait. Whatever it is, go for it. Don’t worry about what other people will think or hesitate to follow your heart. Life is short and the only way to avoid failure is to never try.”

Tell the truth. I don’t know how many times in our marriage David watched me worry and fret about how I was going to explain something or wriggle my way out of an uncomfortable situation. He would naively suggest that maybe I could just tell the truth. I’d usually shrug away his innocent, well-intended advice. Like that would even work, I would think. But when I began following his sage advice he just smiled as I was amazed by the results. Now, when I am not sure how to handle a delicate or distressing situation, I remind myself of that advice and simply tell the truth. Go figure. Who would have thought; truth works.

Slow down. David hated seeing me worry or become anxious about keeping up with my responsibilities. “Can’t you just slow down?” he’d lament at the frenetic pace I kept.  I will never forget that last Sunday before he died, when he paused on the steps and asked if I would come upstairs to lie down with him, and I replied, “I’m sorry. I have too much to do.” That is one of my biggest regrets today; I didn’t take the time to lay next to him and hold his hand as he rested. I would never have that opportunity again. Now, when I have a long to-do list and there is half a dozen things I need to get done, I think about how stressed I can get if I let myself. Instead of frantically multi-tasking, I consciously slow down. I make lists and prioritize. I start each day with quiet time and prayer and face one task at a time. And lo and behold, I still get stuff done, and without that constant anxious feeling.

As for my Mother’s Day drawing, congratulations to Mona R. who won the two books and the $20 Walmart gift card. Thank you to all who entered. Mona, please e-mail your address so I can mail you your prize~

Happy Mother’s Day!