"As a little girl, when my dad told me to hoe the garden, I was profoundly insulted that he would ask such a thing. I was mad too. So I cried as I hoed. Then I took a handful of dirt and rubbed it all over my face. I wanted to prove how hard I'd worked, how much I'd perspired, and how dirty I'd become by labor. Surely his pity would rescue me from further hoeing. It didn't."
Linda Anderson
The Too-Busy Book
Waterbrook Press 2004
p. 180
The truth doesn't always hurt; sometimes it makes me laugh.
Mom and I used to share books. She didn't mind that I underlined in them--in fact, she rather liked my markings. However . . . it dawned on me, one day, that those underlines might tell more about me and my life than I wanted her to know. I suspect my note cards could do the same.
So, when I pulled this anecdote from my collection, I smiled. That's telling, I thought. I could definitely see myself in that little girl. I could also see that I'd changed. To God be the glory.
Hmmm . . . Take a look at your bookshelf. What does your collection tell about you?
EverGrowing With His Help,
Lonnie
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