While I had the time yesterday, I started packing. I stuffed five boxes full of books. As I saw the titles, I couldn't help but wish for time to dive into the pages of some, while others allowed remember the joy that sprung from the pages. It seems as though each book checked off my list is replaced by ten others that I feel the need to read. Up next: Northanger Abbey. It is difficult for me to find a balance between Classic novels, Christian novels, and Christian informational books. I love The Last Sin Eater by Rivers, chuckle at Moliere's Tartuffe, and adore Jane Austen and Elizabeth Barrett Browning. The list only grew last spring as I found myself consumed with Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451. As I sit here thinking, I can't seem to think of a book that I have not enjoyed. There are numerous books that I could criticize, but in the end, so many redeem their faults with the literary merit they hold.
I didn't intend for this to become a book review, but I was astonished today when my classes went to the library to select their outside reading books. So many could not seem to find a book that they wanted to read, while I stood there surrounded by hours of enjoyment and endless possibilities. Fortunately, I have a good number of students who love to read and made recommendation after recommendation to their peers.
The snow is beautiful and the pups enjoy it-- Here's to my new attitude toward the glorious season that is a Michigan winter...
Blessings!
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