Back in the gospel of Mark, if you will. I was reading this week in kind of a random fashion and I came across an interesting little account. In France, some years ago, there lived a poor blind girl and she had obtained, according to the writer, a gospel of Mark in Braille and it was all she had. She read it with the tips of her fingers and she read it and read it and read it until her fingers became callous and her sense of touch diminished so that she could no longer distinguish the characters.
In an ill-conceived effort to re-sensitize her fingers, she cut them at the ends which only made them less sensitive. And the writer says she felt that she must now give up her beloved book of Mark and weeping she pressed it to her lips saying, "Farewell, farewell, sweet Word of my Savior."
To her surprise, her lips more delegate than her fingers discerned the form of the letters. All night she perused with her lips the book of Mark and overflowed with joy at this new acquisition.
I don't know how precious the book of Mark is to you, but I hope it's precious, it is to me. And the more I go through this book, the more hours I spend in this book, the more precious it has become to me....