I’ve been listening to David Copperfield, read by my favorite audio book reader, Tadhg Hynes. (Tadhg is pronounced like the first syllable of tiger.) It’s a long book—1.3 days, according to iTunes—so I’ve been listening for quite a while.
While I listen to Dickens’ yarn, I spin yarn of my own. It’s amazing what I’ve accomplished in less than 1.3 days (I haven’t finished the book yet).
While I’m spinning and listening, I also ponder (especially during Mr. Micawber’s epistles). Do I miss things I’ve given up—such as writing fiction? It was a wrench giving that up. Ballet? Teaching? And sundry other things I still cherish though I’ve relinquished them.
Do I miss crawling? Not being able to read, write, and cipher? Obviously I don’t miss things I don’t remember, things that limited me.
Now, that’s something to think about: “things that limited me.” One of the things Maria says in The Sound of Music is, “When God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window.” You know what comes out of the windows of heaven, don’t you?