My son loves computers. He will watch YouTube videos about programming and checks out numerous books from the library on the subject. One day when we were at the library this week, he came up to me and asked if I'd read a computer programming book on Python. Now I've been trying to encourage him to read fiction for years to no avail. My first thought when he asked me was to snap, "No! You didn't read any of the books I suggest to you, so why should I read yours?" But I didn't. Instead, I looked at my son's face and saw what his request really was: his way of inviting me into his world, his interests, and part of who he is. Inwardly reluctant, I outwardly agreed.
Later, when I picked up this 400 + pages tome, I sighed. I didn't really have an interest in reading it, after all, computers are not my thing. And I just get utterly confused whenever I attempt to read a computer book. Still, I slowly began to read this book and, understanding very little, I wanted only to set the book down and read one that I really did want to read. But I didn't. And I'm glad that I didn't because my son came in the room, saw me reading this computer programming book, and a big smile came over his face. His Papa was reading the book that he suggested. This act on both our parts was an act of love.
Now he will come in while I'm struggling through and ask me about what I've read and he'll talk to me about it. What starts as discussions about computers eventually turns to other things in his life. This book is not really a way for me to learn about computers, but for me to learn about my son.