Reading

June 20, 2019

What do a biography of Julia Grant, wife of U.S. Grant, the instructions for a fancy espresso maker, passages from the Bible, and a sign on the wall of a zoo enclosure have in common? Well, for starters, they were all a part of my day today, starting with the Scriptures. The signs were part of a day’s outing with littlest granddaughter Gemma, a wondrous privilege I had accompanying her and her best friend Olivia on their last school field trip of the year. The instruction manual was for the espresso machine Linda bought me for Father’s Day, (a gift I like and appreciate more than I thought I would), and the biography for pleasure. 

Every one of these pieces of my day were possible courtesy of my ability to read. I was raised with books, taught to love and respect them almost from the cradle. One of my earliest memories is of reading from the old Dick and Jane readers. “Look, Dick, look. See Sally run. Run, Sally, run.” On this particular day in first grade as we took turn reading aloud, I stumbled over the word “said.” I had missed the previous day of school when that word was taught, and had to slowly sound it out. Learning how to sound out words was the key that unlocked an entirely new world to me, taking me from elementary readers to graduate level theology. Along the way, I wandered oceans in a pirate ship, scaled mountains in Switzerland, fought alongside Bluecoats at Gettysburg, and discovered new worlds in microbiology—all because I could read.

Words—squiggles of ink on paper—became a constant companion, to the point where I receive threats of bodily harm if I bring home another book without first divesting myself of one already lurking about the house or garage. They became my life’s work, writing sermons, articles, and perhaps someday, a book or two. This one single gift has enriched me with wisdom from ancient bards, laughter from modern humorists, perspective from other cultures, tender words of love from my wife. I am so very thankful tonight for this wondrous, amazing ability to read.