Peace In The Margins

“There’s nothing wrong with reading a book you love over and over. When you do, the words get inside you, become a part of you, in a way that words in a book you’ve read only once.” – Gail Carson Levine

As a reader and lover of books, I am drawn to books which are filled with dog-eared pages, marginalia, and spinal creases. I want to read books which have been read by many hands. I love the idea that a single book can live many times over simply through the act of being read. And while I know dog-earing is one of those topics that can erupt into bloodshed in certain circles, there is a juxtaposition which can be made.

You see, until the pages of a book are yellowed with age, torn and crinkled from many hours of turned pages, the typeset broken and faded, and no longer able to be read, there is still purpose. The story can still be told. The book still has a use – it still has value. 

As a writer, as a human being, I too am dog-eared, my life is filled with countless entries of marginalia, and my spine is lined with creases. Life does that to us. Our bodies are not designed to last forever. Our teeth and nails yellow with age. Our skin becomes torn and crinkled. Our words and memories become more difficult to articulate as our lives fade. 

Even in those final moments on Earth, there is purpose. There is a story unfolding, and our life has use.  Life has value.

I was honored to witness the telling of one such story. A little over a year ago, I stood by my grandmother’s bedside as she did in fact draw her final breath, and I experienced peace. A peace which was so unusual, as she was a worrier at her core. She loved her family with ferocity, which is why she was such a worrier, and that love still resonates in the lives she touched. Her story is still being told. Her story still impacts those who hear it. Through her story, her life still has value. 

Here’s the interesting thing about life – about our personal stories: just like with books, as long as someone continues to tell the stories and there is someone who will listen, the story still lives. Therefore, when I share my grandmother’s story, in a metaphoric way, the telling of her story keeps her alive. And it will be the same for each of us.

As a writer, I am encouraged to know when someone reads what I’ve written, my voice will be heard long after I’ve gone to be with my Savior. 

Erma Bombeck said, “When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, ‘I used everything you gave me’.”

I too hope I can say I’ve used everything God has given me for His purpose.