Books, Kindles and Thankfulness

I love to read, as I’m sure you can tell from the background on my blog. I grew up without a TV and with my nose buried in a book. I have no idea how many times I got into trouble for reading when I should have been doing other things (for example, sleeping!).

I clearly remember the first day of school that I ever missed. I was in Pre-Primary and our car broke down on the way to school. I was devastated. I was missing library day! What torture to have to wait a whole extra week to change my library books!

My first introduction to novels came when I was about 6 years old – and I could not have asked for a better one. My mum took the time to read the entire Chronicles of Narnia to me. I loved them then, and I have loved them ever since.

A few years later, I began reading classics such as Treasure Island and Jane Eyre for myself. By the time I was 10 or 11 years old, the number of books I would read each week was limited only by library borrowing restrictions.

To this day, my dream house would include a room specifically designated to be “the library”. It would have a big bay window where I would sit and read, a fireplace (complete with mantelpiece, of course), and walls covered from floor to ceiling with books – real, hard-copy books.

I guess it was this dream that caused me to resist the idea of owning a Kindle for so long. How could an electronic device possibly replace the feel and smell of old, yellowing pages?

My love of reading and the impracticality of dragging an entire library around the world with me conspired together, however, and I finally gave in and got myself a Kindle. I became the reluctant owner of a device that gives me access to more books than any library I have ever set foot in – and so many of them available to me for free!

As I recall these childhood memories and reflect on what I now have in my possession, it occurs to me that my childhood self would have treasured this amazing invention that I now take for granted. I realize that my vision of perfection has blinded me to the blessings that I do actually have. And I ponder: how often is this the case? How often do I allow an ideal in my imagination to steal the joy from that which is real?

Today I find myself challenged to live in reality and to be thankful for what I encounter there.