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I love to read. 

I went through the whole Nancy Drew series before third grade.  I was the kid sitting in the bathroom on the floor at 2am reading so that the light wouldn’t bother anyone.  And I’m a fast reader.  I can fly through a book.

I would read anything if it looked interesting or if I was bored.  So one summer after a family reunion I was bored and looking through the bookshelves at my aunt’s house.  I found a romance novel.  I fell in love with a particular genre – Jane Austen’s time period.   I stuck with a particular distributor because they were clean.  You know, just like Pride and Prejudice.  It was all about the relationship and the story and the book would end with their first kiss.

But sadly over the years, I’ve left that distributor.  While I’ve still stuck with that genre, they aren’t clean anymore.  I used them to hide from the pain of my marriage.  I’ve spend so much money on romance novels it’s ridiculous. 

Looking back I can definitely see patterns.  When H-er was actively acting out I read anywhere from 10-20 a month.     I can see it was definitely a coping strategy to numb myself. This last year I’ve probably read 5-and they were all from authors who write incredible stories.  It was their storytelling I was drawn to rather than the idea of romance.  But still it’s filth. Pornography for women.

Two weeks ago in Sunday School we talked about Abinidi and how he would share his message even if it meant his death.  Then in my personal reading I read about the Anti-Nephi-Lehi’s and how they buried their weapons and would die before they would take them up again.  And I knew that my romance novel reading had to go the way of the weapons. 

But it wasn’t until this last Saturday when I was at the temple asking God for an answer to a prayer that I made the decision to bury them.  And so I began my fast yesterday and started gathering up books.   At first I was thinking I would turn them in to a used book store for credit, or donate them to a library.  But it’s filth.  The Anti-Nephi-Lehi’s didn’t donate or sell their weapons.  They buried them.  So I started dumping them in my recycling bin.  Rather than pass the filth on to someone else, hopefully they’ll be recycled and turned into something that can be used for a better purpose. 

I tried not to look at the titles but couldn’t help but see some of them.  I felt twinges because some of the stories I’ve read multiple times.  I’ve met some of the authors.  It was hard deleting the ebooks.  I had to read the titles to separate the romance novels from the kid’s books and other books I’ve gotten for bookclub.  Sometimes it was hard to press the delete button.  “I’ll just keep this one.”  I’d say.  Or “this one doesn’t have any smut in it.”  But I would catch myself and think of Abinidi.  I still need to go through some closets and boxes in the garage because I know there are books all over from when I moved.  My goal is to find every last one by this next weekend and be romance novel free.

I know I’m going to face challenges.  I’ll see that one of my favorite authors has a new book and I know I’ll be tempted to “just get that one”.  I also know that the attachment I feel to the books will fade over time. There are so many other uplifting and good books I can read instead.  I don’t want to be like Lot’s wife but if I don’t acknowledge the chemical and emotional connection I have to the books, I won’t be able to break it.   In Relief Society yesterday the lesson was “you can have what you want today or you can have something better.”  I’m going for something better.