I love the way Caleb reads books. It used to annoy me. A lot. Actually, a lot of things that Caleb does differently than I do used to annoy me a lot. Some of them still do. He has to have his game pieces set up just so, and they’re so ordered I just have to mess them up a little. When he’s not looking. I usually enjoy the challenge of “how long until Caleb notices his houses are upside down” more than the actual game. Caleb tends to do things slowly(!) and deliberately. He takes time for the details, for order, for being thorough.
I think that the way people read books says a lot about their personality. I can only read one book at a time or I give up altogether (this will help you understand the pile of unfinished craft projects in our basement). Sometimes there’s chocolate on the edges, which may not tell you much about my personality, but does reflect the extent of my chocolate
problem affinity. I read quickly, look for the most important ideas, and leave the rest. It takes Caleb probably 5x longer than me to read a book. When he’s done, it looks like its been read. The binding is cracked in several places, the corners of the book are bent gently. He underlines important points. Not everything, like I would, just the few things that really mean something to him. And then, my favorite part, he lets this book that he has spent weeks with affect him. He didn’t give up on it a month back when it was slow going, like I would have. Instead, he has savored the words, thought about them, let them challenge and change him. Imagine what the man does with a Bible in his hands.
I know that he will still read this way when we no longer have little babies asleep upstairs. I know that he will slowly turn pages with the same strong hands. There’s something so wise and confident in the way he reads. It reflects the way he loves.