I like books. A lot.
My goal is to read 50 this year.
That’s a lot.
But not nearly as much as one of my favorite pastors and authors, Mark Batterson, who read hundreds in one year. Maybe I could do that if I quit my job and locked myself in my bedroom for a year.
It would be fun, but not practical.
I finished a book yesterday and when that happens, I am excited to pick out my next book. I have so many to read and I like to switch things up by reading a new book and an old book, at the same time, a suggestion from Batterson.
Also, I enjoy reading fiction (or a memoir that reads like fiction) and non-fiction simultaneously. Today I decided to start “God Help the Child” by Toni Morrison (it has been on my shelf for YEARS, waiting to be read) and “The Screwtape Letters” by C.S. Lewis (a newer addition to my collection).
All of this talking about books led me to more talking about books, this time in a conversation with my husband, Ric, today.
Years ago, I was a reading tutor at Omar D. Blair, a charter school in Denver. In addition to helping kids who struggled with reading, I read to a group of kids daily. On one such occasion I was reading “Shiloh” to them. The memory is vague, but I had heard something about the author, Phyliss Reynolds Naylor, giving free autographed copies of the book away to students. Somehow, some way, I reached out to her and got free copies, and I pulled out my copy today to show my husband.
I started describing to him how, when I read to the kids oftentimes, I would tear up on certain parts. It’s just an Erin thing to do. After some time, the kids would look at me, expectantly, waiting for the tears. They began to realize that any book worth reading produced tears in me. A litmus test, so to speak. I even quizzed them, from time to time, asking them what made a great book, according to me. “If you cry,” they exclaimed, without hesitation.
As I told this story to Ric today, it got me thinking about expectancy, so I told him I was going to write about it. He told me to do it. So here I am.
The expectancy that came to mind immediately is one of praying and waiting for the answer. David said in Psalm 5:3 “In the morning, LORD, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.”
This got me thinking of those kids and how they would wait, looking for my tears, with an expression of almost longing for it to happen. Jesus spoke of childlike faith and letting the children come to Him. There is something to be said for that. Their faith that I would cry during a really great read led me to think of my own belief. Or lack thereof. When I pray, how often do I sit, with a look of childlike expectancy on my face? Is that my posture or do I pray with doubt, not expecting an answer?
The next thing I thought of, when selecting the title of this story, is this Advent season, which is the time of year we wait for the King, our Messiah, to come. As they waited for him in ancient Israel, we wait for His return now. Is there room for Him in the busy-ness of my Christmas planning? Is He the centerpiece? Do I have the same look on my face that my students had as I read to them all those decades ago?
My desire is to have this expectancy. But desire and reality do not always co-exist, at least in my life. What about yours? Perhaps this year will be when they do, for those of us who believe.
Merry Christmas!