Quoting my son, “I used to imagine that when I was in your tummy, I was naked and sitting in a big chair by a fire, reading a book.”

Last Saturday I went over to see a dear friend of mine. She is a scholar, an author, a scriptorian, a visionary, a true disciple of the Lord, and I have to add, a weight-lifter who wears extremely high- cheetah-print heels. I love being around her and listening to her insights and doctrinal knowledge. I will try on her high heels and hobble around her kitchen while she describes to me her theories on the coming “Davidic servant” or “Priesthood authority.” This is our relationship. I try to make her laugh while she tries to make me serious.

She invited me up to her study to show me three books that she recommends on Church History. It was pristine. Black bookshelves stood as sentinels around her neat desk. I scanned all of the bookshelves. There were historical books, church books, many versions of scriptures, academic books, ancient language books, and just about every obscure scholarly Mormon work you could imagine. It was as if someone had lifted a scholarly section of the library and set it down at the top of her stairs, first door on the left. Not one book was out of place. I asked her where the novels were? “I don’t read novels. I haven’t in years.” What about any classics? “None.” No Jane Eyre? No fairy tales? Not even myths? “I had a book on ancient Hebrew myths once, but I threw it out.” I told her that I would bring her Jane Eyre to grace her bookshelf. She said, “Don’t bother. The next day it will be sent to Goodwill.”

Suddenly my reading life flashed before my eyes. I saw my bookshelves and desk, crammed over with the hodge-podge of topics and colors. Chinese Brush-painting, novels, biographies, poetry, detective novels, art history, yoga, Shakespeare, self-help books, romances, Westerns, classics, fantasy, science fiction, church books, architecture books, music books, how to write books, travel books, Italian, French, German books, and at least five different cover versions of Jane Eyre…to name a few, and I realized how beauteous and bounteous my books are. They create life and vibrancy around my house and sometimes I just like to run my hands along them. They are fresh, ripe fruit always ready to be picked and eaten with relish and juicy goodness. All of them should be read “naked and sitting in a big chair with a fire.” I cannot imagine my life without them. I think my friend would feel the same way about her collection of high-heeled shoes. Each has a different story. “I am a reader, not because I don’t have a life, but because I choose to have many.”

What object/s in your life bring you joy?

PS. Speaking of wonderful books to put on your bookshelf. Melissa Bradford Dalton’s book is coming out in a few days! It will be on my shelves soon. On Loss and Living Onward is available on Amazon.