On King David

When I was a kid, we had a "Picture Bible." It was the Bible in comic book form. A little scary, maybe, but I devoured that thing. It was so well-loved that it was in two chunks, the cover long gone. I remember waking up early on Saturday mornings and reading those stories. I can still picture what Jezebel and Esther wore (pink with a funny gold hat and a long white goddess gown, respectively), what Moses and Aaron's faces looked like, the way Absalom hung from a tree.

David was my favorite. My affection for David was something akin to a celebrity crush. I'd speed-read the stories leading up to his and then slow down and savor his rise from shepherd to warrior, from fugitive to king.

I'm nearing the end of II Samuel right now in my (mostly) daily reading, and each time I close the book (a real one now - I've graduated to lots of words and no pictures) I discover that I can't wait to "find out" what happens next.

Tomorrow King David will say his final words, maybe even die. I'm dreading it.