(If you want to hear Lori read the story click)here

 

 

We began reading Harry Potter as a family. I say we, but actually I was usually engaged with the baby and could not sustain the hours of attention it took to follow the plot. John and the older kids did the reading... in the car, in the living room, on vacation at the beach. 

 

The Goblet of Fire came out as the kids and I were embarking on a cross country trip. Chara filled the car with her voice for a thousand miles. 

 

When The Half Blood Prince was released our daughter Mercy was working in Maine. But the pact was strong, and they found a way to include her by phone for marathon reading sessions. Occasionally there would be no response from Mercy for a long time, and it would be clear that she fell asleep. Chara would hang up, call her back and ask where she drifted off. No one questioned the extra minutes it took to catch her up. 

 

I was always astonished at the commitment to reading together. Things had changed for our family since The Sorcerer's Stone hit the shelves. Back then a homeschooling routine left large gaps of time well suited for oral reading. But when The Deathly Hallows was released some of our kids actually had jobs and homework. Still it was important to them, and they exercised personal restraint in not reading ahead, or at least not admitting that they had.

 

The stories are not void of struggle. They thrive on it. The plot weaves together the tragedy of death, and the exquisite beauty of friendship. They describe what it means to sacrifice and to act from a solid sense of loyalty. Harry and his friends face danger, and they grow in the process.

 

Recently the twins, who were not part of this portion of Odhner history, cracked the books. They covered all 4,000 pages in the weeks between September and Halloween. Appropriately, they were Hermione Granger for trick or treating... when there were two of her because of time travel. 

 

Reading together is one shade of family connection. It is a sweet way of sharing an experience, carrying you through a tale and the emotions that color it.

 

Perhaps the shift comes when we realize that our marriage itself is part of a story. It encompasses pain, and sacrifice, loyalty, friendship and tragedy. Four thousand weeks comprise the average lifespan. In it we are offered the opportunity to rise above our own needs and fears. We confront heartaches that shall not be named, and miraculously come through the door of the Department of Mysteries.