I am enthralled by
libraries. Especially aesthetically pleasing ones. I am pleased by the fact
that there are still so many patrons in an electronic world that will peruse
and check out books—especially the book-end ages—the youngsters and the
elderly. I like the smells of books and the wealth of knowledge, creativity and
experience that is at ones fingertips each time you step foot in the large
doors and are greeted by a librarian.
I especially like
libraries with windows, so you can see inside and outside—light can pour in,
you can see your surroundings and delve in to whatever world a book or magazine
has to offer. I like that they are community locations; a stable part of
shifting civics and a place where events of all kinds can be held.
One thing about libraries,
though, is that I think they represent how I feel about a lot of life right
now. Frozen to my spot and nearly unable to move or make a decision. The
opportunity surrounding me is vast, but I have yet to taste any of it and have
no idea of where to begin and am saddened by the fact that I’ll have to miss
some. That’s overwhelming. It’s not that I’ll make the wrong choice, per say. I
know there are things I absolutely won’t try and I know that any choice I make
will probably be delightful—I have a propensity to enjoy new and different and
learn from just about anything. Even if it’s not, I know I can stop and choose
something else and theoretically that’s just fine. Or is it? Either way, I feel
pretty stuck. Certain yet uncertain. Content yet dissatisfied. Hopeful and
expectant, yet a little fearful and apprehensive. Surrounded but alone. Excited
yet lackluster. Always living in consistent inconsistency.
I think this can be okay.
Eventually I have to learn to take one or two books at a time (not once from
every section) so I can really drink it in and experience the depth of the work
instead of worrying about the fact that everyone has already seen or known or
moved past this in the fast-paced world. I can let other people point me in the
right direction or share what they have learned and celebrate the truth and
beauty in the world.
That’s where I’m at.
Recognizing that I have a lot of de-cluttering to do but having no idea where
to begin. I’m surrounded by stacks of books and lists that are wonderful but
not altogether particularly useful or pertinent to me, the mess becoming a bit
of a prison even though the clutter is comprised of all “good” things, so I’m
praying that God reveals idols and dust, washes me with hyssop that I might be
clean, whiter than snow and might pursue Him with wholehearted obedience,
undivided attention, unswerving perseverance and unmatched delight so that
righteousness can shine brighter than the noonday sun and His people can go out
with songs of joy and freedom.
