I have a Bible.
(Shocking, I know. But that’s not the point. Carry on.)
I have a Bible and it’s really dear to me. It’s the one I currently use in the mornings and it’s the only study Bible I own (except my RSV from college). It’s falling apart. It has ripped at the top and bottom of the spine from when I used to stick pens in there back in high school. I have masking tape holding several pages together. I have 5 bottom corners from Ephesians stuck in the book with plans to tape them back in eventually. The family pages at the beginning have fallen out. I can see the book binding in spots in Psalms. It’s NIV, which isn’t even the cool translation anymore, but this book means something to me.
It was my first “real” Bible. Real to me. I mean, I had a youth type Bible I had gotten in the 6th or 7th grade. I also had a Precious Moments Bible as well as several children’s stories of the Bible.
I still remember wanting this Bible. Needing it.
It was Easter of my freshman year in high school. April 1999. We didn’t have the kind of money to just go out and buy a Bible. This was an expensive one — fifty whole dollars. So, I asked for it as my birthday present. I went to Mardel and picked it out – a burgundy leather Life Application Bible in the New International Translation. I got to put my name on it for free. It was the first time I’d ever had anything so fancy with my name on it. I was careful to write in it as pretty as I could for a 15 year old girl. I intentionally misspelled my middle name because I felt like my name meant more with the “h” in it — I wanted to be CHRISTina and not CRIS.
Since then, I have gotten more Bibles. Bibles for school. Slimline. Different translations. I think my husband collects Bibles as a hobby – he has so many! Not a single one of them has been as important to me as this one. This one holds my memories. My childlike faith. My exuberance. I remember feeling SO certain at the time. Many of these notes marked some of the most joyful times in my whole life.
When my life is tough, I find solace in these pages — in the child that went before me and the faith I know is still deep within.
It’s time to do something about the Bible. I either need to rebind it or to move on. I’m afraid I’m going to break it beyond repair. Do I simply repair it? Or do I request a new one to make new memories? It’s just a Bible.
…but it’s more than just a Bible.
Please tell me someone understands.