Nine Years Later

Today, I finished a book that I started nine years ago.

It even boasts my maiden name in the front cover.

Tonight? Finished. Check.

The odd thing: I loved every page. Every single one. From cover to cover. I fully immersed myself in it, but I just didn't want it to end too soon. I agree: nine years is a bit much.

(I'm such a weirdo.)

Because you are my faithful reader, I'll confess. The book is... The Life You've Always Wanted.

It would appear that I didn't want The Life enough to read any faster, but o' contraire. I was sure, years ago, that I wouldn't find another book nearly as powerful to my transformation. So I read slowly, embracing the potency. (I even gave the blasted book away once, just sure a friend of mine would enjoy it just as much. So I gave it to her without finishing it myself. She read and returned. And I took another six years before I finished it myself.)

(I'm such a weirdo.)

So now, since I have finished the book, since the margins are filled with my notes, doodles, highlights, and tabs, I can place it on the shelf of my most favorite books I've ever loved.

I suppose it's possible that another title on spiritual formation has been published, you know, in the last decade.

I'll find it.