I cried me a river.

Last night I spent a good hour and a half bawling my eyes out. Not because anything tragic and terrible happened to me. No, I cried because of a book.
Now I have only cried in one movie, in my entire life. Charly, and come on, who doesn't cry in that. I have cried in a few books before, but not many. I prefer to save my tears for things that actually happen to me, no matter how stupid those things may be.
I had no control over my tear ducts when I was reading this book. It is called Angela's Ashes, and during the chapter I read last night, there was a death every few pages. And these deaths were worse then just normal deaths, they were the deaths of young children. That fact alone is enough to send me into a frenzy of tears from which i cannot return. Anything involving the pain and hardships of little children can do that too me. It probably stems from the fact that I have younger brothers and sisters, so whenever I see sad things happening to annonymous children, in my mind, I see it happening to them, which is way to much to handle.
Reading that chapter, and the whole book for that matter, compounded all the things I am thankful for. I am so grateful that I didn't grow up in a time and place where deaths were common, and unemployment was abounding. I am grateful that I have parents who would do anything for me and my siblings, and that I have the gospel of Christ in my life.
If you are ever feeling down and depressed about your life, please read Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt, it will make you realize how good you really have it.