I’m amazed at my obliviousness sometimes. Here I am, going about trying to come up with just the right plan/time/process to spend more time reading the Bible. And the answer that swings in and hits me on the side of my head? My two-year-old. Nine times out of ten when he wants to read a book, he goes to his Bible. His was a gift from the church at his baptism. We’ve never told him he should read it every day, he knows nothing of the rest of us grown-ups adding “read more Bible” to countless to-do lists, he just loves that book. He can flip through the whole thing, point to a picture and tell me the story. Could I point to a chapter in the Bible and do that? Not many of them. So tonight as we were rocking in his chair before bed, reading about Jesus and Mary, I almost stopped and laughed when I realized that I, in fact, have been reading the Bible every day. So it’s got pictures, and the stories are paraphrased and a bit happier than my tiny text version, but does that matter? Certainly not. Sometimes it’s just that easy.