A couple of weeks ago a dear friend handed me a treasured book – the story of her life, which had been shared with only family and a select few friends.

She had it published a couple of years ago because she wanted her children to know their heritage and the trials and triumphs of her courtship with their dad, who had passed away a few years prior. Her only condition was that I finish it in two weeks. It is almost 600 pages.

I can understand her condition because, as she said, in most cases it’s true that if you haven’t read something within two weeks, you aren’t going to finish it. This, however, may be an exception.

I wrote her an email this morning begging for an extension –at page 320 and in the middle of absorbing every word about their Brady Bunch type home life, I can’t stop now.

Besides the fact that this is a very well written book, it also close to my heart. This couple has been special to me since getting to know them through our church. I miss her husband and find my eyes welling up during certain parts of their story.

Being privy to the more personal details of what brought them together, as well as their individual backgrounds, has me riveted to these pages.

When my dad was alive, I had asked him to write about a little bit of his life to pass down to our daughters. I knew I had inherited certain traits as well as my love of music from him, and, as some might say, my stubbornness.

He provided me with a glimpse into his youth, the story from his perspective of meeting and falling in love with my mom, and other details of our family history that I might not have known about. It was just what I wanted, a part of him that I could hold close and also share with his grandchildren.

Around the same time, I asked Spouse’s mom to do the same. She contributed pages with many little details we may have never known from her childhood, her courtship with my father-in-law, and her many years of volunteer work. I only wish I had thought to have her share her wonderful pie recipes with me. They would have made a great addition.

Both of these retellings were fairly short and easy to copy for others, compared to the thick volume I am in the midst of reading. One of the big differences is that my friend tosses in several facts and interesting details surrounding the times as she writes about each era.

For someone who hated history in school, this has been a fascinating ride through significant life events as well as my friend’s personal reflections woven in between. I’m reading about the 70s now and am flooded with memories of my own youth – favorite toys and music, historical events long pushed back in my mind, even the clothes of that era.

Would my story be interesting to my children and (maybe) grandchildren someday? Sometimes I want to rewrite it and make my life more interesting. “Local woman tackles her midlife crisis by writing the Great American Novel while jumping out of an airplane” just doesn’t sound like me.

But I don’t think a great story is necessarily based only on great achievements. My friend’s book is about the love of two people and what it took for them to come together in the midst of all their imperfections. It may not be the Great American Novel, but it makes me think maybe it’s time for me to start piecing together my story for the next generation.

Just a note here – I won’t be jumping out of an airplane to make it more interesting, but I might share a recipe or two. Once I hook ‘em with a good lasagna recipe, they might stick around for the rest of the story.