Unbelievable

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I have a thing for books.  All kinds of books.  I have how-to, self-help, fiction.  I have classics and pulp fiction paper backs.  I have beautiful books, cookbooks, ancient books.  Children’s books, art books, coloring books.  All kinds. 

Several years ago, I thinned my books and donated them. I regretted getting rid of some of them.  I bought them again, mostly used, on Amazon or at the local library’s annual book sale.  I think I got rid of them for the wrong reason.  I felt I “should” get rid of excess things thanks to my overindulgence in self-help books about getting rid of things. Since that time, I have been reluctant to thin again. 

I have a selection of books I call my hands off collection. No one can borrow them.  If you are my friend and want to read them, you have to come stay with me while you do.  You can get comfortable on the porch or on one of the beds in the back bedroom.  I’ll even cook for you. 

I don’t know what has clicked with me recently, but I found myself thinning my books.  Not the hands-off collection, but other books.  Especially the “self-help” ones. That has expanded to even more topics.  Some craft books and home decorating books have made it to the out pile.  I have enough in the pile to make it worth going to the second-hand bookstore that buys used books. What they don’t want, I will gladly give to the Salvation Army store. 

I think when I found I could buy Orchids on Your Budget on-line new or like new, I felt some release.  I actually bought three copies.  Now, that may seem silly.  I’m purging books because I bought three copies of a book I already have in the hands-off collection giving me a total of four copies.  That title is one of two books I have that will go in my purse if I have to evacuate.  The other is Headhunting in the Solomon Islands (not what it sounds like).  I can’t explain my love for them. They are both non-fiction from the 30’s.  The first is about living cheerfully and well on a budget.  The second is about two women who go to the South Pacific to capture sketches of the natives before they either became extinct or “modernized”.  Who knows what would happen if I find more copies of the second one?  I might really unload some junk.  (I haven’t look, yet.)

In the interest of being transparent, I have a long list of books I want to acquire with an idea to read them and a pile of books recently acquired from used book sales, with an idea to read them.  I am not quitting the book business.  I am trying to quit the keeping business.  Keeping for the wrong reasons.  I have new courage to face other areas of the house now that I have done the unbelievable and purged so many books with more in the target zone.  Still, I tried to face the scarf collection this morning without success.  Too much too soon. 

I will not give up on my process.  I will try to expand on this line of thought and work in the coming weeks. The reasons for all the keeping and the reasons for trying to stop keeping.  I do want to say now, though, I don’t have all that much.  I don’t have a lot of things in the attic.  I don’t have a garage or storage building or rented space.  I have only two or three medium size tubs of Christmas decorations.  I could pile all the items I have stored on shelves or closets in the middle of the living room floor and still be able to walk around it.  But, too much of it is stuff I don’t really use over the course of the year. Too much is stuff I acquired for the wrong reason. Now that I have done what I consider unbelievable, I will be challenged to do even more unbelievable things to prove myself to my own self.  That is the only proving I am interested in these days anyway……Unbelievable. 

My Beast

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A lot of men think they are tough.  They think they can handle anything life throws at them with a wave of their hand.  When things do get tough, they back off.  They hide behind the guise of being civilized or well-mannered.  Most hide behind fear of repercussions.  Some hide behind a wife, letting her muddle through and then they can sit back and believe they could have done it better if she hadn’t interfered. 

I know a man who is tough.  He is Rambo with a machine gun slung over his shoulder with barrel blasting tough.  He is the beast in the front of the pack when it is time to kill.  He has a throwback hardness to him that harkens to the days of hand-to-hand combat with swords and knives, Braveheart fashion.  If he believes you are loyal to him, he will do battle with Hell for you.  No dragon is too fierce for him to face.  If he senses a lack of loyalty, he will throw you to the dogs.  With no remorse. 

His is the type of man who caught hold of the first ship heading west to new unknown lands.  The same type who forged through the swamps of the coast, the forests further inland and the mountains and plains that lay beyond.  Seeking a place without class restrictions, without societal rules.  His type herded cattle up dusty death filled trails.  A payday and a good meal his reward.  To have gotten the job done, his reward.  To have survived when others fell, his reward.  He binds his wounds with his own will to move forward.  He has no back down in him.  He raised children with no back down in them. 

He has a temper and sometimes a short fuse.  He has no patience and no desire to develop any.  He yields only when he chooses.  His is an iron will.  Webster’s has his picture next to “stubborn”.  He has on more than one occasion told me “They can’t eat me.”  He respects inner strength and power.  He expects people to show up and to do what needs doing.  He rubs people the wrong way because he calls them out on their façade.  He is not impressed with wealth or social position or education or political power. He guards himself and his small tribe closely and fiercely. Tread near with caution.

There is another side to him.  He loves Jesus.  He loves his children and their children. In fact, all children love him.  Baby whisperer, I call him.  Babies and children love him at first site.  He says it is because they have the same priorities.  Eat, play, sleep.  That is true.  If he sees someone in trouble, he reaches out to help.  He can’t stand to see vulnerable people be left to the wolves. 

He isn’t sentimental or romantic.  Not for him moonlit strolls on the beach or candlelit dinners at some special place.  The first has mosquitoes and the second is just plain silly to him.  He wants to see his food when he eats. He did allow our children to subject him to a vow renewal for our 30th anniversary seven years ago. He would never be mistaken for a gentleman.  He is out spoken and tough. Yet, I do have a collection of love letters and jewelry and a jeep among other things.

Despite his own personal tragedies, he lives life full throttle.  He expects everyone to do the same.  His world is clear cut and black and white.  No gray areas.  He is rock solid.  He is the man God gave me.  He relies on the Solid Rock and I rely on my Rock.  If a dragon comes my way, he is the one who kills it.  He is not afraid to do what real beasts do.  If he even thinks someone is messing with his children, he loads up for warfare.  He will charge the gates of Hell to protect them.  Anyone who causes them distress is at risk of his charge. 

When I am faced with tragedy and heartbreak, he stands in the gap between me and engulfing despair.  He puts me in check with his immovable stand of faith.  Yes, he experiences concern over situations; he flips a switch and it goes right up in the flames of faith filled prayer.  I would have completely destroyed myself by now without him.  Others laugh and wonder how I “put up” with him.  I don’t know how he “puts up” with me.  He makes me want to be stronger, tougher, braver.  He makes me want to live life full throttle. To laugh at the dragons and wave them off with my hand.  To send fear up in the flames of faith filled prayer.  Until that time comes, I will lean on him for protection, for courage, for intercession. 

He is a beast.  He is a warrior.  He is a battle-scarred man who loves God.  He is tough, hard and full of love.  I am so blessed to call him mine.  And so blessed to be his.

God Gave Me You