Losing myself

I have always always loved to read. I can remember being in elementary school and reading books that for middle school students. I can remember sitting at the dinner table and reading instead of having a conversation with my family. I can remember books being my playground and sometimes even my friends.

Somewhere along the way I forgot that I loved to read. I forgot how I enjoyed curling up with a good book and a cup of coffee and losing myself in the story. The last time I really remember doing that was my junior year in college. I can remember the book, "The Shofar Blew" and how when I read that book my mind was challenged, my thoughts wandered and my heart was moved.

This month I have re-discovered this great love. I have read 8 books this past month. Some easy reads some harder. Some took a couple of days some took a day. I have read about a young black boy growing up in a time that was filled with hate because of his skin color, I have read about a young girls struggle with war in Iraq and what it was like to fall asleep to missiles in the air. I read about a girls life in Cuba before Castro invaded and I read about a man who loved the Lord and came up with the best chicken sand which this side of the USA. I read about women who fought and fight daily for freedom in Afghanistan and endure enormous amounts of pain through unnecessary beatings and torture. I read about a dead girl who watched her family fall apart from heaven and about a young boy who was weak in courage and let a friend succumb to the evil nature of bullying.

It has been SO addicting. I have learned so so so much about different countries and cultures and my mind just is hungry for more. I am so thankful that I was taught how to read, that my life was valued enough in this country so that sending me to school wasn't even a question. I am so thankful for teachers who cared and encouraged this gift in me.