3 yellow roses


My Secret Reading Room

© Ruth Marlene Friesen

So many people complain that they don't have time to read, they're just so-o-o terribly busy.

I think of myself a busier than most, but I get a lot of reading done. At least a book or two and a number of magazines or newspapers a week. That's not counting the many hours of reading I do on the computer during my business hours from 9 in the morning until 11 or 12 at night.

Now you want my secret?

It's so simple you're going to laugh. I know you will.

You might say, "Oh, I already do that!" So maybe you have to be me to make it really work, I'm not sure. It works for me.

Besides having a stack of prolife, health and religious magazines on the corner of our dining table and reading for 10 to 15 minutes after meals, and good devotional books by my bedside, I keep a stack of good books in the bathroom which I refer to as my private reading room.

Some folks keep a joke book, or the latest Readers Digest in the bathroom for quick, short reading spells. I put novels and heavy-duty non-fiction there. See, if I've got to be there anyway, I may as well multi-task and get some reading done.

Novels are like chocolates, they hold my interest while I'm reading, and so I gulp them down in about two days. True, it seems I have to go to the bathroom more often on such days, but the treat is sweet.

Have you ever had a heavy-duty non-fiction book to read and just never seemed to get around to it? I put those in my reading room, and even at a page or two per visit, I make some progress and learn things without trying hard at all.

My Grosz'mama Kroeker had a saying, (translated), "Old as a cow and still always learning." She explained once that she'd found it easy in school because she was a teachable learner. I like to think I am too!

There's another reason to read in the privacy of my own bathroom. I'm alone. No one needs to watch me wiping my eyes with a towel at some sad parts.

Take the book I finished last night for example. It was about a family with a teenage daughter who had leukemia, written from the viewpoint of the younger sister. Dana's Valley showed how various family members reacted, to the up and down swings of remission and crises. Each sibling taking a different tact. I could identify so well. In our case it was my mother was ill so often when I was growing up. This book brought up a lot of those roller coaster emotions. Even the ones when I came home as an adult to look after Mom, which brought on similar love-hate tug-of-wars in my mind and heart.

I tell you, I was so glad I wasn't reading this book in public!

Of course, it's not the only experience I can identify with; there's a wide range. In fact, if you want to see what a voracious reader I am, you need to go see the poem I once wrote to show my gratitude to my first grade teacher, Mr. Bill Janzen, who taught me how to read in the first place. You'll find it here: I-Owe-You-Gratitude

I haven't been able to afford books for the last two decades, but it's amazing how they keep coming into my hands as borrowed books or as gifts. I'm never totally without reading materials.

Recently my cousin gave me two boxes of her mother's books after she died. I'm galloping through them at the rate of about two or three a week. But God will send more when those are done. I'm sure of it.


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[Article may be reprinted only with this resource box].

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