Writing for Reading

Sliding out of the booth in a restaurant where we had enjoyed a late supper, as I gathered my purse and coat I noticed a dollar bill on the floor under the table. I picked it up, thinking it may have fallen out of my purse. When we paid, I showed it to the cashier. She said it was probably dropped by our server, so I asked her to give it to the waitress. Just then the waitress approached me waving something in her hand: one of my good black gloves! My good deed had been rewarded! And so quickly! I found the other glove under our table and left the restaurant with a good feeling.

I needed a good feeling and a confirmation that Someone cared after the past disappointing couple of hours. Several weeks ago, I was invited to bring my books for a book signing at an estate sale. They had seated me very conspicuously, we thought, right at the entrance to the sale in a little breakfast nook, so the people would be sure to see my display. My granddaughter, Allison, and I had gotten there in plenty of time, and we enjoyed seeing the crowd of people gather outside the window, waiting for the doors to open on this first, and busiest, day of the popular sale.

People jostled and crowded in the increasingly cold late afternoon, and finally they were allowed into the garage where they waited expectantly still more tantalizing minutes. When maybe a dozen names were read off, those early-to-register customers burst through the door with empty cardboard boxes for their loot and passed right by us in their hurry to find the goodies. This went on repeatedly-- impatient and excited shoppers who had been held back dashing past us in a frenzy of bargain hunting. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, or maybe we should have been closer to the exit than the entrance, for most of the customers filed out the front without ever passing our table again.

Allison and I tried to speak to most of the customers, indicating the book, and one said, “Oh, I wondered why you were sitting there and not shopping!” I recognized one lady who had passed us and said hello to her. “Oh! I didn’t even see you sitting there, I was so focused on getting inside!” she said. Another prospect said she didn’t read (a lot of them said that), and one who perused the book briefly said she was a voracious reader, getting shopping bags of books from the library, but she couldn’t afford to buy a new book. A small boy approached us, looking at the poster with my picture on it, and said, “Are you a real author?” I showed him the book, and he intently read the back cover. Only nine years old, he assured me he was a good reader, but that he was awfully busy. So cute. One of the highlights of the evening.

Well, whether anyone buys any books or not, I enjoy writing them. And those who have read this first one and my blog have given me good feedback, saying how much they like them. So I’ll keep writing, if only for my own pleasure, but it is good to get a feeling of affirmation sometimes, especially when I know the Lord is pleased!