The number of books on the shelves of my office, by a quick estimate, is around 500.
I consider that a good start. There are another 1,000 or so on the shelves in the family room. And many, many more stacked on practically every available surface throughout the house (and an unknown number packed away in boxes). There’s a growing number of digital books stored on my iPad (or linked to cloud storage).
Yes, it’s all a good start.
As I’ve said before, I judge people by the books they have in their homes. Not so much by the kinds of books that they have, but the simple fact of that they have any books at all (but don’t get me started about buying books simply as “decorations”). It’s getting harder to do this with ebooks, but we are not yet at the age of completely digital lives.
Those 500 or so books here in my office are a great comfort to me as I write and work. I look to my left and there they are, a symbol of what I’m working towards and where I came from. They’re a part of what I know. I look at those shelves, and with a deep breath, relax.
Walking into a library does the same thing for me. Bookstores. Other people’s homes filled with books.
Why? Because to me books are a sign of thought, engaged minds, and so much possibility.
500 is a good number for one room. How many books does it take for you to find a moment of peace?
All of this reminds me of something from I Saw Esau: The Schoolchild’s Pocket Book, which I’ve pulled off the shelf for this occasion:
If this book should chance to roam —
Box its ears and send it home.
And my favorite:
Steal not this book for fear of shame,
For in it is the owner’s name;
And if this book you chance to borrow,
Return it promptly on the morrow.
Or when you die the Lord will say,
Where’s the book you stole away?
And if you say you do not know.
The Lord will answer, Go below!
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