by Janet Morris Grimes @JanetGrimes

Long before I was a writer, I was a reader. A listener. A pretender.

Books allowed me to imagine the life of a princess, a pioneer, or a private investigator. Stories taught me to pay attention to detail, to treasure those who were on my side, and to seek my own adventures.

I remember sitting cross-legged in the floor in second grade, listening to the teacher read a chapter a day on the crazy antics of Pippi Longstocking. At the time, I had no idea she wasn’t real, and I longed for more of her bold and carefree spirit.

In Little House on the Prairie, I was amazed at how unprotected the Ingalls Family was, riding in their wagon by day and sleeping at night. They faced each adventure together, and their Pa kept them safe- no matter what. Laura wasn’t riding bikes through parking lots the way I did. Instead, she bounced through creek beds and observed all the others. We had that much in common.

In church, I witnessed flannel board stories of regular people that God used to accomplish amazing things. Noah built an ark. Moses (who looked much like Noah, in my opinion) chiseled a story into stone. Jacob and Esau tricked their own father, and Mary had the baby we’d been waiting for in a lowly manger.

In these stories, nothing went as planned. Yet, anything was possible.

My writing came a few years later. An attempt at putting my deepest feelings into words. Asking questions that no one could answer but me. Wondering if God could use me as well. Changing my own story.

As an adult, I feel as if I’ve lost some of the wonder of reading along the way. I’m sure my adult reading habits have been altered by social media. I’ve wasted many thirty-minute blocks scrolling through depictions of best-case scenarios of people I barely know, when I could have used that time to enjoy a great story.

My goal this year is to change that. To spend more time reading.

To this day, the same elements that captured my heart as a child are what keeps me turning those pages. A flawed character who overcomes the odds to give me hope. A father who protects his family. A girl with mismatched socks who rides her horse into the school building. A regular person who chooses to follow God, even when it proves to be the hardest road.

I still need more of this; much more than I need social media.

In the past couple of years, my journey to becoming a published author took me through a five-day challenge to write a children’s book. We were led deep down a path to find the story we wish we’d read as a child.

The challenge, then, was to write that book. Wow!

Now, I carry that same challenge over to what I’m reading. To find the stories I wish I’d read as a child. I’ve got many author friends who pull this off beautifully.

Stories of all genres where nothing goes as planned, but anything is possible.

Yes, please. I’ll take more of this.