Pitter patter goes my heart when I find an antique Bible. Not the large ones, but rather the small hand size ones and even smaller. The size that could be tucked inside a woman's purse or a gentleman's coat pocket. Covered in leather, softly worn around the edges and perhaps a note or two written inside - maybe marking a favorite verse or a thought written that may pertain to a passage. Not all are in English, some I have are written in Danish, German and Swedish. Some dating back to the mid 1800's. Precious Catholic prayer books, a Lutheran song book (that belonged to my great, great Grandma) intermix with the other cherished books. For now I have about 25, but am always adding to one of my favorite little collections. They are nestled inside an old wood cabinet with antique transferware, a crucifix, rosaries and other tiny odds and ends. My newest one traveled back from Germany in the suitcase of my friend, Waveney. It was my gift from the antique club that just visited my home. It is dated 1900, bound in leather and has the sweetest metal clasp closure.
If I could close my eyes and see the person who once held these gems. If they could take me to church with them one time and we could read from the Bibles as the minister gave his sermon. Take me back to the simple white church with the hard wood pews and listen to the choir sing. Show me the hands that once cradled these precious books.
For now I am the keeper of them. And that makes me happy.