two sentences

'Ruth's cabin, Sam's gentle friendliness, George's passion for birds: these were gifts. Without them, I might easily have lost heart.'
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(from The Snow Geese, William Fiennes)
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i've raved about this book on this blog before -- there's so much to love and admire about it. i honestly do think it's one of the best books i've ever read, period. Thinking about it again, today, i realised that in that whole litany of Things I Love About This Book, these two sentences stand out for me as the bit that really, really made me fall in love with it, and therefore also a little in love with (my idea of) its author.
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One of the things i often say about things i like is that i'm not quite sure why i like them so much. This goes back a long way -- i remember, back in 2nd year uni, telling my laughing-blue-eyed gentle-humoured tutor that i can never write about the books i love most; it's the ones i dislike that bring out a paradoxical eloquence.
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In this case, though, i think talking about two sentences might just about be manageable. i love the gratitude that comes across in them, the ability to see life's blessings for what they are; and also, the humility and resilience. At this point in the book, Fiennes has been travelling alone for a long time, and has almost reached the end of his journey. And he is just about losing heart. The loneliness, the tiredness -- these things are getting to him, and i like the fact that he admits it. And it's just wonderful to follow the narrative as he picks up the little crumbs strewn along the path and uses them for sustenance as he makes his way forward towards his destination.
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God give me the grace and strength to be the same.
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