I climbed the stairs slowly to the secondhand book store. There sitting in piles of stock sat it’s owner, reading behind a tatty desk. Above him was pinned a notice proclaiming – there is a book here for you! Somehow I doubted it. Yet I searched reasonably diligently in the novels, hobbies and history sections. Even the personal development and spirituality shelves held nothing to whet my appetite of imagination. So I couldn’t resist the temptation to return to the desk and remark – ‘ I can’t find my book.’ The old man smiled and said, ‘it’s there behind you!’ I turned and saw a volume bearing my name. On opening it, I read my early life, my youth and my recent stagnating years. I saw days of success and failure, happiness and sadness, peace and struggle. Finally, I found a paragraph starting – ‘I climbed the stairs slowly…..’ . The remaining pages were blank. In my surprise I turned to the shop owner . He was offering a pen and gesturing that I now write something fresh.
Lord, thanks for the blank pages
Of life yet to come
Many we write on them
Words that are worthy of ourselves