Thereâ€™s one more notable thing that happened while I was in Boston. Be forewarned, itâ€™s a little self-congratulatory:
I read a book. A story. And I feel the better for it. So much so, that I am moved to say something. The story made me feel, think, wonder, and yes, sometimes gulp hard. Like doctors do frequently. Plus, the best part: it taught me something about an important time in the history of mankind.
Maybe this is why The Book Thief touched my heart. I told Staci and Will, after finishing, â€œI feel a fuller person for having read that story.â€
Iâ€™m no book reviewer. Bear with me. Set in Nazi Germany, Leisel, a pre-teen girl, loses her brother, is abandoned by her mother and takes up in a small town in the outskirts of Munich with foster parents, Hans and Rosa. The story then winds through the difficult times there between 1939-1942. Central to the story are humans, the best of, and the worst of, books, the power of words and of course, deathâ€”the narrator, who at that time was quite busy.
Many may not have read this award-winning story because of its label as a young adult novel. Iâ€™m glad my family convinced me to look past the â€˜youngâ€™ label.
My life as a doctor involves working with humans, not just their hearts. We are complicated. The Book Thief confirms this while it teaches, and matter-of-factually tells us a story that stirs in some hope with the despair of the time.
I like hope. I like learning from mistakes. I loved The Book Thief.
Gosh. I should read more stories, and less journals.