Crackles rang from the wood stove. Fire was devouring the wood inside. Efficiently providing heat for the cool fall afternoon. Beyond the faint sounds of the fire I listened to my aunt read aloud. Though I heard the story before soon was I caught up in it. Hearing it for the first time all over again. Memories swept me down a deeper path of my childhood.
Reading aloud on winter evenings has been a favorite pastime for our family. Dad was most often the appointed reader. Missionary biography's spilled trilling tales and amusing stories. Historical biographies proclaimed daring feats. Escapades of "Little Britches" will never be forgotten. Nothing seemed more comforting then hearing dad read those stories. I don't know who was more caught up in them. Dad or us children.
They say reading aloud builds a interest in reading for children. However I believe a deeper stronger interest was instilled in my brothers and I. All three of my brothers went on do some form of mission work. I wish to follow in their footsteps. Summarizing maybe I am, but just maybe all those missionary biography's had an impact on our lives.
Never have I felt so blessed as I heard the stories of persecution our ancestors went through. Escaping Germany and Russia and nearly starving. Such stories reminded me of God's mercy.
Long after my brother's left home mom continued the tradition. Reading aloud was simply a part of my school each day. No secret is it that I'm a secret of admire of "Anne of Green Gables". We do share the same name after all. Please don't forget the "e".
Imagine me with red hair and I'd like to think I'm Anne. Writing her dreams and imagination into stories. Only I use a keyboard instead of a pen. I've never won a baking powder contest. However I am "published" on the World Wide Web.
Winter evenings, a good book, and a fire could all do that? Far fetched perhaps but I think that maybe they did.
Leaves are falling with the North wind. Find a good book and your family and pop the popcorn. Prepare yourself then to broaden your horizons and imagination.
1 comment:
Yes I agree--Dad was more caught up in the stories then we were!
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