Books

            Earlier this spring, I found the children’s book, Heidi, at a garage sale.  Snatching it up, I gladly paid a quarter for it.  Warm memories of reading Johanna Spyri’s lovely tale over and over convinced me purchase the illustrated book even though I still have my copy from the mid-1960s. 

            I loved the days our class visited the school library.  By fourth grade, I was hooked on books, and Heidi was one of my favorites.  I liked to imagine that I was just as brave and good and lovely as Heidi. 

            Tonight, I finished the book, which I thoroughly enjoyed again at the tender age of 63.  It is a sweet and sentimental tale that leaves me homesick for a place in the mountains of Switzerland that I have never been to—and homesick for all the characters in the book who still seem so real to me.

            But a new realization dawned on me as I read Heidi this time: God used that book to teach me truths about Him.  From it I learned more about God’s love.  I learned the importance of gladhearted generosity and sincere forgiveness.  I learned that God is trustworthy; He hears and answers our prayers in unexpected ways, though often not in our timing.  Perhaps it was not only the sentimental story that drew me to the book time and again.  Perhaps it was also the Holy Spirit.

            You see, I needed mentoring, and I found it in Heidi and other books.  There are great gaps in my childhood memories, and I assume that trauma caused those empty spaces.  My father was an alcoholic who went his own way when I was barely six.  I remember seeing him once when I was seven, and again when I was thirteen.  He left my mother with a boatload of debt and four children, ages eight, six, three, and newborn.  Within a year and a half, my mother’s parents—whom we visited every weekend--died.  Mom taught elementary school physical education and did her best in raising us four, but there just wasn’t enough of her to go around.  I was the shy introvert, rightfully afraid of my older sister who was simply out of control. 

            Thus, I can see now that books became my friends and my teachers.  I could escape into a story and find happiness there.  Books have continued to mentor me through my adult years as well.  Whether I am reading nonfiction or novels, God has connected me with just the message I need so many times.  What a wonderful God we serve—One who is ever creative in the ways He reaches out to us.