Joy in the Truth that I’ve Changed
by Blakelee Ellis
I love to go thrift shopping.
It’s my guilty pleasure, my “me time.” I love digging for unexpected treasures and the thrill when I find a special item I didn’t even know I needed. Every thrift shopper has a preferred section of the store they are drawn to. Dedicated thrifters will rummage around for hours examining every shelf for a one-of-a-kind object to add to their collection. I’m drawn to the book section. I love books because a physical book is much more than just the story inside. I’m fascinated by the color, font, and type set, but especially by the weathering on second hand books. The frayed covers, yellowed pages, and crumbling bindings tell their own story. They bring uniqueness and a palpable nostalgia to my library shelves.
When I first started collecting thrifted books, I became particularly fond of finding vintage LDS books. I collected books on Church history, teachings of the prophets and exploration of the scriptures. I would examine their worn pages and be delighted that these books were well used. To me, they served as a physical manifestation of my spiritual heritage. I imagined the previous owners pouring over page after page in an attempt to understand the mysteries of God and the complexities of our human experience. I felt pride.
When I found myself on a faith journey, the books became a tangible representation of all the turmoil in my spiritual life. The more my soul was lightened by love and grace, the heavier their presence became on my shelves. In a small attempt to bury my hurt and betrayal, I pulled all my Mormon books off the library shelves and packed them away deep in the basement. I thought I’d never buy another vintage LDS book again.
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