When I heard our libraries were finally reopened, my heart soared! However, the library I normally frequent continued to be closed so I chose to visit another library nearby.
What a miserable experience! A sterile environment is what I unknowing walked into where plastic shields separated patrons from employees. I saw most of the employees standing behind the plastic shields as though viewing the patrons as potential communicable diseases. I felt no love, or light, only fear, and as quickly as possible I selected some books. At each self-checkout station were bottles of hand sanitizer which I elected not to use. Many contain cancer causing agents.
Twice I went to this library and twice no matter what books I chose, I could not focus my mind nor could I seem to connect to my joy of reading. None of the books held my interest. I despaired. It would appear that the soul shattering shocks of the past few months have effected my ability to enjoy a good book. Or so I thought.
Weeks went by. When my usual library reopened, I took the books I did have, returning them to my library and planned to select my books from there. Driving there I was incredibly nervous, not knowing what to expect on account of my previously painful experience at the other library.
Upon entering, I braced myself to face the abrasive energy found at the other library. I took a deep breath, relaxed and instantly relief washed over me when I felt “warm fuzzies”, inhaling deeply the familiar smell of books found only in this place. How my spirit jumped in relief knowing the environment in my library had not changed! Tears smarted.
I was stunned how long it took me to find any books that interested me and even those I doubted were good books. Inside I was crying. What have these past few months done to me? My joy and ability to read books seemed badly shaken and in need of emergency help.
As I was checking out my four books I had selected, an employee who began a conversation with me excitedly encouraged me to enter a book contest the library was involved with. I saw compassion in her eyes as a heart-to-heart connection was made while we spoke. I wanted so badly to hug her, to comfort her, yet I restrained myself. Her eyes mirrored my own pain. Knowing now that my library is one of the growing number of pockets of hope, I walked out rejoicing.
And not only that, my JOY for reading has returned. My confirmation came when I saw the name of the author, JOY Fielding, of whose book I am presently reading.
One more thing. There were no plastic shields and no hand sanitizers at my library’s book checkout stations. The entire experience was a delight despite my initial trepidation on the drive there. To be treated decently as a human being versus a potential contamination is such a gift! Wherever I go, I am intending that pockets of hope spring up eternal as LOVE continues to spread.
My 31.5 year old washer died yesterday. My brilliant husband found the perfect washer and together we got it into the house. Supplies are in short demand so I consider this a Miracle. Not only that, my old washer gave me one last load of laundry before it bit the dust.
Photography/ “Pockets Of Hope” /July 2020©AmyRose
All images watermarked for protection.