Totin’ a book

Igot out of my car in the church parking lot, having been sitting there for the better part of 30 minutes, and began to walk toward the sanctuary doors. I waved at a church staff member who was holding the door open and when I got within ear shot, he said, “You know, I’ve noticed that it doesn’t bother you just sit somewhere and read a book.” He’d noticed my Sunday ritual, which consisted of leaving work and heading to church, but I’d get there early so I generally had a book or two with me to pass the time.

And he was right, it never bothered me to spend a few minutes at my destination reading a page or two.

I thought of that conversation the other night when my son carried a book into Cracker Barrel and sat at the table reading it while we waited for our food. My gut instinct was to ask him to put the book away, but then I looked around at all of the other customers with their phones in their faces and thought better of it.

Why is it that I began to think his bringing a book inside could be seen as rude, but us toting our phones like it’s an oxygen tank and we’ve all got COPD?

I think maybe it’s the internationality of it that puts us off; we convince ourselves that staring at our phones is an incidental occurrence that comes with the necessity of the allimportant smartphone, but to bring a book means you plan on reading it.

As he read his book, I honestly got a little jealous. I miss the days of sitting in a parking lot reading a book. I miss seeing a dog-eared copy of a Louis L’Amour novel poking out of Daddy’s back pocket.

When we got home, I sat on the couch and as the kids went to bed, I read a few pages of a favorite book instead of scrolling on my phone. I got lost in words that took time and effort to write and prayed that our kids would never lose their love of reading.

Then I got an email.