The Grace of a Good Book

I have an addiction.  I simply can't walk out of a public library without at least one book in my hand.  I love to read.  When my to-do list is crossed off and I know I can sit in my comfy chair and ottoman with a book, I feel a silly sense of glee. It is then that I can toss aside my cares, my thoughts, my planning and my worries and crawl into the pages of a good book where I'm taken to faraway lands, immersed with people from another time and exposed to ideas I had never contemplated before. I can't be without a book.  Lately, my good friend Donna gave me a book about grace. I wasn't sure if she gave it to me because there was a lifelike illustration of a dragonfly on the cover and she knows I am attracted to dragonflies or if there was something in the book's pages that she felt I needed to read.  As it turns out, I believe it may be a little of both, but certainly the latter. After plowing through one mystery book after another from the library, this slim book emerged at the top of my reading pile beside my comfy chair. And just as I believe we are given signs of grace every day in myriad of ways, I found that this book about grace was yet another sign of unearned blessings in my life.  I'm grateful to my good husband, good family and friends, good books and the many graces I receive. They comprise the riches of my life.

Bookin' It

For the past three months, I have busied myself during the cold, wintery weekends with lots of writing and public relations projects.  I have plunked myself in front of my laptop for a portion of every Saturday and Sunday to write news releases, feature stories, interview questions, video scripts and the like.  The days have flown by, but I haven't given myself sufficient time to lollygag in my comfy leather reading chair and ottoman for some serious reading.  I've given myself time to read, for sure, but not prolonged periods of time when nothing on my to-do list beckoned loud enough to pull me out of my comfortable surroundings.  One recent afternoon, I found that my list had been completed and there were no writing or PR projects reminding me to be done, so I sat down in my chair, allowed myself to sink deeply into it and I read from the stack of three library books beside it.  At first, I had a sense of guilt. Shouldn't I be doing something constructive?  Then, I realized, I was doing something constructive.  I was giving my mind, body and spirit a break, a respite from the hectic workday pace and the weekends at my laptop.  It was sheer bliss, something I will do from here on out on a regular basis as a gift to myself.

Book in Hand

I love to read.  If I don't have at least one book around me, I feel restless, as if something is dreadfully wrong.  Recently, a friend told me of a 90-year-old man who reportedly reads a book a day and has done so for years.  I can't compete with his prolific reading abilities, but a book is my great companion every day.  Now that we've gotten beyond the Memorial Day weekend, that unofficial start to summer, I will find every opportunity to read in the sun porch, at the beach, in my big comfy chair, in bed, at the kitchen table, on the couch.  My summer reading list has been started and my list of holds at the local public library is ever-growing.  The long, lovely season of summer is just made for quiet reading time, time to ponder and time to simply be.

Literary Dreams

My good friend Kitty made me a quilt that she calls "Literary Dreams." When she gave me the beautiful masterpiece, she explained the quilt's name by suggesting that I use it while resting in my chair, snuggled up with a good book.  Made of botanical-theme fabrics (because of my love of nature), "Literary Dreams" is exactly where I'm transcended when cuddled up with that lovely quilt and a good mystery or a P.G. Wodehouse romp or a magazine. The quilt sits on my chair's ottoman, ready for me whenever I'm ready for a restful time.  This afternoon's bleak sky gave me permission to take a break from my self-imposed busyness.  It was as if the sky was telling me to relax a bit.  As always, I had a to-do list at home.  Despite the laundry beckoning me and the dust rag chiding me for not bringing it out, my quilt's whispers were louder in my ear.  Instead of succumbing to my household chores, I snoozed happily with my "Literary Dreams."