He gave his life for me, that's what he did - just laid down his life for me. How can I ever forget something like that?
Wilson Rawls
Where the Red Fern Grows
I finally finished reading this childhood classic with Miss Bit tonight. Truth be told I was putting off the last two chapters because I knew my tenderhearted girl would be brokenhearted. Although Id never read the book, I knew it was a tearjerker because it is T. Bone's favorite book...the book he's read more times than any other and he's cried through the ending every time. Me and my girl...we were both blubbering and blowing our noses just like our T. Bone. I did my best to choke out the words over sobs deciding it was, perhaps, wiser to skip a few of the more graphic involving entrails. And then we cuddled and we talked it all over and over. Just like Billy, she wanted to know why God did what he did. She was a little mad that he let the bad and sad things happen that he did. Even as an adult, I struggle with that and sometimes daily. It's easy to feel overwhelmed by all the suffering in the world, but I'm also buoyed by the kindness and lifted up by the joy. Yet I still hear myself ask why? We were able to put the story of Little Ann and Old Dan to rest for the night, but I think that the good that came from the bad felt rather hollow to the both of us. It finally came to...It's just a book. Just a story. I heard myself say it, even though I know a good book that makes me feel and think is so much more than just random words on a page. It's an experience.
