Thoughts from Book Club

A couple of nights ago I went to book club. Somehow we got on the topic of dying and leaving our children behind. The biggest fear we all seemed to share is that no one would ever love our kids they way we do. It's an amazing thing, the love a mother has for a child. I'm finding it difficult to articulate what I mean, because so much of love is a feeling that extends beyond vocabulary. I am enjoying being with Goose so much lately, and when she smiles at me and tells me she loves me, I know we have a connection that is exclusive to ourselves. I have great kids and it's so good to be with them and talk and share and feel their love. Are things always perfect in our home? No way--we have struggles and we mess up daily. But I am so grateful for the good times and for the chance to try to nurture. I'm also grateful for April 2010 LDS General Conference--lots of good talks on raising children.

So I've been reading and re-reading the books for the Lonesome Dove series. The books offer a fascinating breadth of detail (sometimes quite bloody and violent) about life on the western frontier 150 years ago. I wonder what it says about me that I find it so interesting and engaging?
When I read, I like to escape and see places I've never been to and meet people that I've never known. I'm least fond of books about people like me-- scratch that, I'm least fond of books with dying, dead, or missing children. But reading about a white suburban housewife just doesn't have a lot of appeal for me. Maybe because then I would feel a need to compare myself with the character and then note all the ways I've come up short. Ugh. Pride is a terrible thing in how it makes us compete with others--even fictional characters. The way that it makes us rejoice to find others' faults or problems is the height of unchristlike-ness.