A Day No Pigs Would Die.
The Last Battle.
Shadow of the Giant.
– books that have reduced me to weeping for people that were created in someone’s mind.
It’s strange to close my book, wipe my eyes, and look up to realize that no one else is mourning with me. The saddest thing in my life right now is actually not that Julian left a note for his wife before leaving on a spaceship, believe it or not.
I remember distinctly reading the last chapter of A Day No Pigs Would Die during class in 6th grade. Afterwards, the rest of the class walked calmly to Music while I followed with tears streaming down my face, barely able to hold it together through the singing. (I told Greg this story as we went through our books this weekend: I got the “you-were-such-a-sweet-little-girl” smile, mixed with a little bit of laughter.)
Stories have power. Incredible power.
Maybe that’s why God gave us a Scripture of stories. The Bible is not a theology textbook, a scientific paper, or a historical record of events. It’s the epoch-long tale of a King’s rescue of His children, told over and over again in little stories and revealed as the over-arching narrative of all the stories. It’s a story – a true story – that captivates our hearts and minds more than any other.
I think it was the tale Lucy read in the Magician’s book, about which she said, “That is the loveliest story I’ve ever read or ever shall read in my whole life.” For truly, what could be better?