Young, eager ears and wise words

mother and child baby daughter reading magic book in dark
family mother and child baby daughter reading magic book in the dark

Welcome to my inter-most thoughts and discoveries as I journey here in the dirt like all of you.  The only leg up I have over a great many of you out there is that I know who speaks the wise WORDS of life!  Besides that, I’m just like you.  I’m just trying to keep my path as straight as possible.

In trying to reach back into the dark recesses of my memory for some coherent beginning, I find myself in my bed ready for sleep.  I’m not sure how old I was.  I know I was young.  As I fight the weight of slumber,  my mother would read to me.  It was a simple thing.  Doesn’t take a great deal of talent or training, but we parents miss the simple power of our position, some times.

It was during this transitional time between the running around and dreaming up adventures to the winding down and fading off to sleep, that, as much as I wanted to fight it, my young ears were eager for the words my mother spoke so softly to me.  Probably the first stories that pumped life into my adventurous imagination were from a set of books that she would read to me religiously.  Odd that I would use that word.  For the books were stories from the Bible itself.

stock-photo-70518427-father-and-daughter-reading-book-at-bedtime(Fathers can do it too!)

I’m not sure if understood even a tidbit of the significance of the good Book where these stories came from.  All I remember was my awe at the illustrations and my wonder at the amazing stories of arks and giants, prophets and priests and of men and God.  Before I gained my fascination for Greek mythology or mythology of any type, for that matter, I learned as a foundation about the all powerful, ever present, completely knowing God of the Old and New Testaments.

Was it here I gained my amazement for the power kept in the words and pages of this mysterious book?  Could this be where my gift for discernment and my thirst for the very real stories that I’ve come to know and respect in adulthood?

I’m not sure.

All I know is that I would not be who I am and would not feel how I feel about the scriptures if those stories were never read to me.  So, I salute all parents who take the time to open the Word to their little ones.  Those of you who take the time to pour the love from the Bible onto these little ones lives are now among my personal heroes.  I’m afraid of the many things that I failed at in my short time here on earth, my failure to pass on my love for the WORD of GOD is, sadly, high on the list.

So, my admiration for those who take the time is coupled with a warning to those who don’t.  It’s never too late.  Don’t waste the time.

And to my mother who so faithfully read to me, I am in deep appreciation.

Thank you, Mom.


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