Inside the cover of a 1995 journal, I find these words: In case of evacuation.
And underneath, a simple list. What I hoped to take.
Bible. Journals. Baby books. Two baby quilts Mom embroidered. Photos. Recipe book.
Inside the cover of a 1995 journal, I find these words: In case of evacuation.
And underneath, a simple list. What I hoped to take.
Bible. Journals. Baby books. Two baby quilts Mom embroidered. Photos. Recipe book.
The realtors come to look at our house. Consider its selling features. Advise on what we must do as we get ready to place it on the market.
We know we need to clear the clutter. But their first comment? “You sure have a lot of books.”
Why, yes. Yes we do.
Then comes the directive.
“Clear out this bookcase and that one and that one. Go ahead and pack those books. Store them out of sight.”
Words. Wrestling through antiquated phrasing and sentence structure in classic devotional books engages my mind. Pushes me to discern.
New versions come out to simplify the flow for today’s reader.
But I’m drawn back to the original way it was written. How sentences were crafted in that era.
It makes me think about what I’m reading.