7/15/04

Sometimes I think that I hide in books. I read a lot of books, usually half a dozen or so at a time. It's gotten to the point that I feel naked if I do not have a book on hand. I've mentioned to people in the past that if I have a tendency toward idolatry, it is books. I said it facetiously, but there is some truth to that statement.

Is it a hiding from God? An escape from the realities of life? Perhaps, at times? I think that more than that, books serve the same purpose as a child's favorite blanket: they give me security. Why is that? Is it because I have no voice of my own and I'm trying to find one? Is it because I'm searching, constantly, for Truth? Is it because I'm hoping for even the tiniest glimpse of God?

I don't know. I'm just aware that I read a lot and that I like it. I would like to do what the father of Sabrina did in the movie of the same title. She says that although he was infinitely more qualified, he took a job as a chauffeur because it allowed him long periods to engage his passion: reading! There is one scene in the movie in which her father is sitting in his living room, happily surrounded by stacks of books. Would I be similarly content? Probably not.