Why did I wait so long?

As a writer with a B.A. in literature, you'd think I'd have read Wendell Berry by now. He was on my list of authors who I was embarrased to say I'd never read. Don Delillo's also on the list. And Walker Percy. You can't see me, but my cheeks are burning with shame.

The other day I was sitting in the Pediatric ICU with my friend Jane, as her dear little 7 month old daughter was recovering from her second heart surgery. Between the alarming beeps from all of the machines, and our visits to her bedside to see if she was opening her eyes, and between the annoyingly chatty nurse who kept interrupting our conversation, we managed to talk about what we were reading. "I just finished reading Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry" said my friend. 'Oh my gosh, I"ve always wanted to read Wendell Berry"! I said. Thankfully, she didn't look at me like I was a total poseur for claiming to be a woman of letters and never having read Berry.

Next time I saw her she loaned me the book and I finished it in two days. Why did I wait so long? Maybe because I felt like I "Should" read Berry....and "Should" is never a very good motivation for me.

But now I am motivated to read more of his work. Two memorable passages will give you an idea why:

"I began to know my story then. Like everybody's, it was going to be the story of living in the absence of the dead. What is the thread that holds it all together? Grief, I thought for a while. And grief is there sure enough, just about all the way through. From the time I was a girl I have never been far from it. But grief is not a force and has no power to hold. You only bear it. Love is what carries you, for it is always there, even in the dark, or most in the dark, but shining out at times like gold stitches in a piece of embroidery."

and...

"...The chance you had is the life you've got. You can make complaints about what people, including you, make of their lives after they have got them, and about what people make of other people's lives, even about your children being gone, but you mustn't wish for another life. You mustn't want to be somebody else. What must do is this: "Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In every thing give thanks." I am not all the way capable of so much, but those are the right instructions."

Thanks, Jane, for encouraging me to read this wonderful author. Now, does anyone have a copy of "Falling Man" they'd like to loan me?