i spent a great deal of my formative years reading.  sometimes in the summer i would read for thirteen hours straight.  at the time that seemed normal to me, now it seems a little sad.  but the books did their work, perhaps too well.  it seems to me that i could not have survived without the finches or narnia, Yoknapatawpha or middle earth but heroes in books, characters in general, are different than “real life.”  what happens if aragorn just wants to stay home and build up the kingdom’s infrastructure or if atticus decides he just doesn’t feel like getting the cold shoulder at the country club?  how bout if the world does most severely adhere to faulkner after all?  the loutish brother dominates the family, abuse goes unchecked, and even i don’t have the heart to talk about miss emily.

i am inclined to negative hyperbole but i have to be honest.  there are enough kind and brave and funny and generous people out there who remind me that God loves me and is writing beautiful stories in my life and theirs.  if you have been a part of those beautiful stories, thank you.  you give me hope.

Malachi 3:16