The Little Engine

As an avid reader myself, nothing makes me happier than seeing my girls enjoy a good book.  However, sometimes they “enjoy” their books with a rougher touch than I would like.  It’s a pretty frequent occasion in this house to hear a telltale rrrrippp sound, followed by an “Oops!” and then a “Mommy, fix it with tape!” (The girls think Scotch Tape is equivalent to miracle glue, by the way; they expect tape to fix broken dolls, toys, crayons, etc.). 

For the vast majority of our book collection, I don’t mind sacrificing a page or two on behalf of their literary pursuits.  However, there is one book that I rarely let them handle because of its age and its importance to me: A 1961 edition of The Little Engine That Could. 

It was given to me by my maternal grandfather when I was two years old, and it includes an inscription from him (the smudges you see in the picture are my efforts to obscure our last names for security purposes).  I just love his handwriting.  Because he passed away early in my childhood, I don’t have many things to remember him by, so this book is especially precious to me.  I can’t thank my Gramma enough for saving it for me and my kids!   

The other night, Jim got out the book to read to the girls.  I can just imagine my Grandpa reading it to me and later on, my sister, with the same love and affection in his voice. 

I love the classic illustrations, as well as the classic message of the book. 

I haven’t been feeling well physically these last few days, and I’ve needed to remind myself of the Little Engine’s persistence and fortitude.  Whenever I feel like I’m chugging up a hill with a heavy load (or a heavy belly), I hope I can echo the words, “I think I can.  I think I can!”  And I know, that when my strength fails me, as it always will, I have my Lord and Savior to lean on.  His blessed words are even sweeter to my soul: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).