(After reading chapter 1 of Annals of a Quiet Neighbourhood, by George MacDonald)
I am looking forward to reading this book. My copy is from the library, and part of me wishes I had my own so I could "mark it up," underlining, highlighting, making notes in the margins. There are pearls all over the place. I guess in the absence of having my own copy, I can enjoy using my copybook and journal for copying down quotes and for making notes. After all, truly owning a book has nothing to do with having your own paper copy. Truly owning a book is when you have taken it in, and you have learned from it those things God would have you learn from it; the parts that God wants to apply to your life have been applied. If I want to read it again someday, I can get it from the library again or I can get a copy of my own.
I think this book will be edifying concerning living a quiet life for God. Even if my life expands and doesn't stay quiet, the blessings of understanding how to enjoy the "little things" will greatly enhance my life and the lives of those my life touches. All big things are made up of many little things anyway, so I might as well learn how to enjoy and appreciate all those little things.
In chapter 1 of Annals of a Quiet Neighbourhood, after a few pleasantly thought-provoking remarks, the narrator starts out telling his story from a standpoint of feeling depressed. He goes for a walk in the gloomy, rainy, muddy, boggy weather to take a look at the area outside his new residence, for he has just moved there. The weather mirrors and only seems to deepen the depression and lethargy.
The narrator meets a man on his walk, and feels so low that he doesn't even want to acknowledge the man, but the man interrupts his low thoughts because the man wants to meet him, wants to see his face in person before seeing it behind the pulpit; the narrator is going to be the minister of the church for the people in the area.This elderly man the narrator meets gives the narrator the gift of seeing needs he may be able to fill, and also opens his eyes to something he knows God wants him to keep in mind as he starts his new position--to be the same person behind the pulpit as he is the rest of the time.
As he parts from the old man, he realizes everything looks a little prettier, the depression begins to lift. The sun comes out as if to confirm this newness of life and perspective. And just then, he overhears a little boy saying something to his "Auntie," something that inspires the narrator. The words of the little boy are like the sunshine giving a ray of hope, and the narrator suddenly realizes that in such a small way, a big difference was made. That ray of sunshine, that ray of hope that came out of the boy's mouth, made all the difference in the world to him.
He saw that to make the smallest difference, even to give one person a single ray of hope, is more important and satisfying than all the exciting riches the world might have to offer.
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