My imagination went wild. I leaped into a world that children dream of and most others try so hard to achieve. We spent hours, pouring our thoughts into the pages of the books.
Charity. How sweet is charity? Helping someone when they need it most, or even when they don't.
I always wanted a large collection of children's books for my kids. Books were not notably the only memory I have as a child, but I do remember reading books. I remember the little closets or spaces that mother transformed into our own special place to imagine.
One of our houses, built in the late 1800's, had a nook that I remember so clearly. At the end of the hallway, which led to our bedrooms, a window let in enough light for any sort of reading. She draped a curtain for a door and used a soft rug to warm the hard wood floors. There was also the beloved bookshelf, filled with mostly used books purchases from the local library book sale, covered in protective plastic and old bar-codes. Even though I couldn't read, I would find myself sitting at the end of the hall, warmed by the creative pictures in these fairy tales.
Today is not a day I would have guessed to be sitting here typing out things I am grateful for. Usually, Thursdays are just that, but today wasn't that type of Thursday. After waking throughout the night with the most dreadful sore throat while mustering up just enough energy to walk to the bathroom, I would think that today wasn't that day. But it got better. My husband saved the day and while he had taken the children out to play, I answered the door to a sweet sister holding two large boxes of children's stories. She walked into a disastrous mess, including me. I was thankful, but not as thankful as I am after discovering the treasures she shared. Most were not even used! She took good care of these pages.
What a sweet thing charity is. What a sweet thing it is.