DAY.SEVENTEEN> Twenty-two thousand books

I was at Stony Brook recently and first of all man, do I miss that place. I've always said "college was great, but classes always seemed to get in the way." Many people would yell at me for that statement. Like my mom. But I found a certain peace at Stony Brook that has only recently found its way back to me. Or maybe the other way around, not the point. I was around a little earlier than I needed to be and so I stopped at the place I always stop at to kill time - Borders. I know there is some kind of battle between which bookstore is better (well, in some world there is..) Borders or Barnes? They each have distinct difference. They both carry books though, and that is always a good thing. Winner? You decide. So as I was sifting through the books realizing I don't have money to buy one right now (that's OK, I'm in the middle of about three separate ones) I picked one up and then it was as if picking that book up made me remember to stop. So I stopped. And I took in the moment and my surroundings and the people and it was cool. I saw people drooling over recipe handbooks, the intellectuals thinking deeply into the book they had just picked up and that was it for then because it really wasn't too crowded. I noticed the kids making a scene in the child play area and then I noticed something bigger - I was in a book store. I know, I know.. amazing.

But as I looked around I saw (yes, books..) but thousands upon thousands and i wondered just how many books were in this store. And so I started wondering about how many pages were torn, drafts edited, tears shed, wisdom spread, money spent, and ink printed to get all these books into circulation. And it brought me to the idea of the authors. I can see them now sitting there on a stool composing a story of what was important to their life. Each one offering hope and promise in the fact that he or she could offer something unique. Something different. With thousands of books wouldn't some repeat? No, not so much because the author knows or knew that every single person has a story. No two stories or perspectives were going to be alike. Each one of those books have been read and in being read, have in some small way touched someones heart, changed someones life, taught someone something new, or took that person to a place they have been longing to go whether and for right now could only go in their imagination. But that's okay because I believe imagination is one of God's greatest gifts to us.

Everybody has a story to tell. It bothers me to my very core that some feel like not telling theirs. And it frustrates me that we are not too curious either. Each book read becomes a part of you, with every story shared your mind is refreshed, renewed, or even challenged. We have stories to share. We also have ears to listen. There are about 22,000 undergrads at Stony Brook. How many are at your school? How many at work? How many stories do you know? I am so sorry for you if it's just your own. Let it not be true.