So I haven't blogged in a long time. I mostly don't have anything to say that I haven't already said. I had a great one written about the shitstorm that was Jenner but couldn't get my blog address to work and by the time I did, shitstorm had passed. Other than that, I haven't had much of an opinion to express. Until now.
So Ashlyn and I had cleaned my dad's bedroom for him last year and in that cleaning found three books that my mom had started and never finished. My mom was great at starting a book, magazine, movie and a life and never getting around to finishing it. The books were The Godfather, The Thornbirds and The Robe. I had already read the first book and had seen the movie so I knew what I was getting into with that one. I had never read The Thornbirds but watched it with my grandma during Holy Week many years ago. I was down with the scandal of a handsome priest and a big sheep farm especially during Holy Week. I had never heard of The Robe so I put that one for last.
Back to my mom. Each of these books had a mark in them, ironically, the address labels from magazines that she probably never read. My mom was always going to finish the magazines she subscribed to, but they just piled up on the coffee table. I think her high stress job and a full family life left her too tired to concentrate on Mary Ann Mobly or Farrah Faucet Majors articles. She dogearred the recipes that she would never find the time to make. Every few years Dr Ziavago would air on television and Mom would call the TV for the evening. I think she was usually asleep before the haunting theme song had finished playing. Any attempt to turn the channel was answered with "I am just resting my eyes." But she wasn't resting, she was sleeping. I don't know if she ever saw the movie in its entirety. And then there is the cruelest unfinished of all, her memory cut short, way too short. It no longer mattered that she didn't read or watch any of them to the end. She wouldn't have remembered anyway.
So The Godfather and The Thornbirds were quickly read and thoroughly enjoyed for what they were but The Robe turned out to be something entirely different. It was not a quick read, published in 1942, the print was small and the pages yellowed. It was a small gift from my mom some nine and a half years after her death.
If you haven't read the book, I am going to ruin it for you so you've been warned.
The story of The Robe follows the Roman Tribune that was ordered to crucify Jesus. This Tribune gambles for the robe of Jesus and what happens to him from there. It was a fascinating story without the spiritual ramifications. The author did an excellent job of describing Rome and Palestine in the first century. I never gave any thought to the rest of the people there that day and certainly never thought about His robe, though I always thought it was an interesting detail to include that it was gambled for. But it is the story of the Tribune and his journey to believing that is the gift that my mom left me. She just keeps reminding me that faith is not something proven it just is. I am still muddling through this faith business, but I know this book was there for me. It was from my mom, Mrs. Robert Snow, as the bookmark said. She wants me to get there.
So I finished it. I read it for my mom who just ran out of time. And it makes me think about all that I am putting on hold for when I have time and all that I have wasted my time on. I don't even know where I am going with this post today. Just have my mom and my faith and my to do list on my mind.
The point, if there is one, is read a good book, put your faith in something and leave gifts for the future to find.
