Commonplace Book: quotations from Elizabeth Goudge's "The Dean's Watch"

"The Dean's Watch", by Elizabeth Goudge, is a beautiful book (full review coming tomorrow). I quoted it once already on the blog here, but here are some other quotations I particularly loved:

Could mere loving be a life's work? Could it be a career like marriage or nursing the sick or going on the stage? Could it be an adventure? -ch. 7 

It was then that the central figure of the Gospels, a historical figure whom she deeply revered and sought to imitate, began at rare intervals to flash out at her like live lightning from their pages, frightening her, turning the grave blueprint into a dazzle of reflected fire. Gradually she learned to see that her fear was not of the lightning itself but what it showed her of the nature of love, for it dazzled behind the stark horror of Calvary. At this point, where so many lovers faint and fail, Mary Montague went doggedly on over another period of years that seemed if possible longer and harder than the former period. At some point along the way, she did not know where because the change came so slowly and gradually, she realized that He had got her and got everything. His love held and illumined every human being for whom she was concerned, and whom she served with the profound compassion which was their need and right, behind the Cathedral, the city, every flower and leaf and creature, giving it reality and beauty. She could not take her eyes from the incredible glory of His love. As far as it was possible for a human being in this world she had turned from herself. She could say, "I have been turned," and did not know how very few can speak these words with truth. -ch. 7. 

She lived too close to despair to have any strength left for self-knowledge. -ch. 8.

It was years before he was to realize that a sense of identity is the gift of love, and only love can give it... -ch. 9.

She was slow, too, now that she was old. With time a thing so soon to be finished with, it was right to let the last strands pass slowly through the fingers. One had liked time. -ch. 13.

He spoke of love, and a child could have understood him. He said that only in the manger and upon the cross is love seen in its maturity, for upon earth the mighty strength of love has been unveiled once only. On earth, among men, it is seldom more than a seed in the hearts of those who choose it. If it grows at all it is no more than a stunted and sometimes harmful thing, for its true growth and purging are beyond death. There it learns to pour itself out until it has no self left to pour. Then, in the hollow of God's hand into which it has emptied itself, it is His own to all eternity. If there were no life beyond death, argued the Dean, there could be no perfecting of love, and no God, since He is Himself that life and love. It is by love alone that we escape death, and love alone is our surety for eternal life. If there were no springtime there would be no seeds. The small brown shell, the seed of the apple tree in bloom, is evidence for the sunshine and the singing of the birds. -ch. 17.

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

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Being kind to your own family members

We're so good in public. So polite, so understanding, so kind.

But what about at home?

One of the best things my parents modeled for me was being kind to your own family members. These are the people who matter most to you in the whole world. Why would you not be the most courteous to them?


I was reminded of this idea as I read Titus.

Grace and peace to you, wrote St. Paul.

Grace and peace.

This is what we owe to those we live with. The ones we know best, the ones who see us at our worst.

Grace and peace.

Only through the Lord Jesus Christ, who supplies our lack.


Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

The Love Behind Valentine's Day & a Giveaway!

Today I have the pleasure to be over at Jill Kemerer's blog, writing about St. Valentine and true love:

Even though there are many stories about Valentine (and even many stories about many different Valentines!), the oldest and most reliable account is clear about the important details: there once was a man named Valentine, and he loved the Lord Jesus, and he died for that love. 

It’s a strange story to focus on in the midst of all the chocolates and roses and hearts that decorate our stores and our schools and our news sources during February. 

Or is it?

Head on over to Jill's place to read the rest!

And while you're there, be sure to enter the giveaway at the bottom of the post - it includes books, chocolate, and a Starbucks gift card!


Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

What owning pets can teach us about agape love

My dog is an idiot.

And my cat is mean.

And I love them both to pieces.

My dog, Callie, really wants us to love her. ALWAYS. Which means ALL THE TIME. Which means SCRATCH ME PLEASE SCRATCH ME I LOVE YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THE END.

And my cat, Jack, would really like us to feed him, for which he will deign to bite us delicately, rather than biting us with intent to maim. (He's so kind and condescending. Sort of like Lady Catherine de Burgh.)

But they're both lovely animals, actually. In their own ways, they're desperate for attention and care, and they give back the affection their natures allow them, and they make our lives better with their presence and their sheer, stupid energy.

And it made me think: I can kind of get agape love a little better since I'm the owner of goofy Callie and supercilious Jack.

Pets vs. Humans
Sometimes it's easier to love imperfections like a bitey cat than to love imperfections like a gossipy tongue. It's easier to love my stupid dog than it is to love . . . well . . . stupid humans.

Animals are simple. They have their own personalities, sure, but the eat-prey-love drives are pretty surface and easy to understand in all of them.

Humans are anything but simple. Even at ninety years old, can you hope to really know yourself? Really?

But, see, I love my pets. I don't expect them to be something other than they are (though I sometimes hope).  And I feed my cat on the days he scratches up the carpet the same as on the days that he purrs happily while I pet him (this is a rare occasion with our persnickety formerly-feral feline).


And I guess that's how I should love people. Because we're all sometimes cranky or stupid. And we hope the people who are meant to love us love us still.

God helping us. Amen.

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

Game Trust, Real Trust, and Love

When I watch reality TV, I'm always surprised by the contestant (and there's always at least one), who is shocked to find out that another contestant wasn't telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but that truth. It's a bit like someone being shocked that poker sometimes involves bluffing.

Of course, there's a whole conversation about ethics that can be had here, and it's a conversation that fascinates me, but I'm going to put it aside for the moment in order to focus on something else: the nature of trust.

Game Trust
In reality TV game shows - or in just about any game - the person you can trust is the person whose interests align with yours. You  have "game trust"*. Game trust means that you can predict what the person will do and therefore you can trust them to act in the way you expect. To use game trust to your advantage, find where your opponent's interests correspond with yours, and exploit that correspondence to your benefit.

All very dog-eat-dog, right? Well, it can be. It's also very close to the reason why capitalism works and is the worse system in the world - except for all the others. Capitalism is an economic system that assumes that people are going to operate in their own self-interest, and builds all its checks and balances around that assumption. And, people being people, they do act in their own self-interest, and that's why capitalism usually works okay.

So: game trust.

Real Trust

What comes next in this hierarchy of trust? It's what I'll call "real trust". It's what we have with our spouses, our parents, our friends, and our kids, at least in the healthy versions of those relationships. We can trust them to act "not just in our own interest, but also in the interest of others".

When I was engaged to marry my husband, my mom shared a great piece of marriage advice. She said, "If it's good for Adam, it's good for you." Or, in other words, if there was a thing Adam loved - say a hobby or a job or a friend - and it wasn't something I loved, it was still good for me if he had that good thing. Because when we married, his good became my good. Anything that makes him happier, better, stronger? Makes me the same, because we've become - in ways both mystical and practical - one. His good is my good, and my good is his.

Other good relationships work this way. I have friends who have passions that baffle me - they're things I'd never want to do. But I can see the good effect that nurturing those passions has on their lives, and because I love them, I'm happy to encourage them that make them happier, better, stronger - in other words, more themselves.

So, real trust. I can trust the ones I love to love me and do me good - sometimes even to their own hurt. There are people of whom I do not need to be afraid.

Love

But, of course, even in good human relationships, there's a limit to love. We're selfish in even the best of our relationships, we can't help it. We can never fully empathize with someone else. And since you have to know well in order to love well, we can never love fully: we're not omniscient. My husband probably has a better guess about what constitutes my good than any other human being has - but it's still, at least partly, a guess. He is not all-knowing and so cannot be all-loving.

But God can. He knows us fully and loves us fully. He knows what our good is (it is Him) and is constantly working to give it to us.

And here is the marvelous thing: as Christians, the Holy Spirit dwells within us. As we commune with God in prayer, the Holy Spirit continually works in our hearts to direct them towards love and good works. As we pray for our family and friends, He shows us how to love them.

In other words, real love, full love, can be ours. It can be ours when we let God love our loved ones through us. It is not us doing the work, but Him. Will we ever see more than that "dim reflection" here? No, but the light will grow, if we walk in obedience. I'm reminded of the words Tennyson wrote in memory of a well-loved friend:

We have but faith: we cannot know;

For knowledge is of things we see

And yet we trust it comes from thee,

A beam in darkness: let it grow.

Let knowledge grow from more to more,

But more of reverence in us dwell;

That mind and soul, according well,

May make one music as before,

But vaster. We are fools and slight;

We mock thee when we do not fear:

But help thy foolish ones to bear;

Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell


*I'm not sure, but this phrase might have been invented by Linda Holmes back when she wrote for TWOP under the name "Miss Alli".

Top 10 Romantic Heroes

From books, of course. I could do movies too, but I'm afraid that if I did the list would end up with silliness like: "William Wilberforce. What do you mean why? Oh. I guess you're right. 'Because he's played by Ioan Gruffudd' isn't a good reason, is it?"

No, actually, if I made such a list, it'd probably read:

Top 10 Romantic Heroes from the Movies:
#'s 1-9: Westley, beloved of the Princess Buttercup.
#10: Han Solo.
The End.

No, this is a list of romantic heroes that win a place on the list based on character alone - the fictional fellows who have flaws, but who love their ladies well despite them. As I look over the list, I realize that firstly, it doesn't hurt to be a lord, and, secondly, most of these men share in common the virtues of integrity and courage, allowing them to see both themselves and their loves clearly and to take whatever action (including self-abasement!) is necessary in order to win their ladies' hearts. But also just plain old courage, which lets them stand against the world, championing the cause of right - and of the women they love.

Here's the list:

1. Lord Peter Wimsey. From "Gaudy Night", by Dorothy Sayers.
2. Sir Anthony Fanshawe. From "The Masqueraders", by Georgette Heyer.
3. Lord Miles Vorkosigan. From "A Civil Campaign", by Lois McMaster Bujold.
4. Hugh Beringar of Maesbury. From "One Corpse Too Many", by Ellis Peters.
5. Sir Percival Blakeney. From "The Scarlet Pimpernel", by Baroness Orczy.
6. Faramir. From "The Lord of the Rings", by J. R. R. Tolkein.
7. Val Con 'yos Phelium. From "Agent of Change" by Steve Miller and Sharon Lee.
8. Gilbert Blythe. From the "Anne" books, by L. M. Montgomery.
9. Joe Willard. From the "Betsy-Tacy" books, by Maud Hart Lovelace.
10. Sylvester, Duke of Salford. From "Sylvester, or, The Wicked Uncle", by Georgette Heyer.


Runners-up:
-Robin MacRae ("Sandy"), from "Dear Enemy", by Jean Webster.
-the Essie Summers hero (same one in every book, but he's awesome)
-the Carla Kelly hero (ditto)
-Mr. Darcy, from "Pride and Prejudice", by Jane Austen.
-Benedick, from "Much Ado About Nothing", by William Shakespeare.
-Michael Moon, from "Manalive!" by G. K. Chesterton.

What do you think? What would your list look like?

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

p.s., "Top 10 Romantic Heroines" coming up shortly.  :)

assuming the best

I've been reading a lot about marriage lately, and it's got me pondering.

Truthfully, I've been reading a lot about problems in people's marriages, and it has me running the other direction and thinking about solutions in marriages.

I've been thinking about what works in my own marriage, and one of the big things, I think, is that my husband and I have a sort of standing policy of assuming the best of each other. This eases a lot of our misunderstandings.

My husband and I are exact opposites on the Myers-Briggs. This means that we complement each other beautifully, but we surely don't think about things the same way. We often reach the same conclusions, but we get there by vastly different paths. So when we're working our way through some problem, there's lots of room for misunderstanding.

But we've developed the habit of assuming the best of each other instead of jumping to the conclusion that what was said was meant to hurt. From my perspective, this means that when Adam says something that hurts me, I remind myself that I know he loves me, and I ask him if what I heard was what he meant.

It usually isn't. I'll find that he actually meant something good; his thought processes are just so different than mine; I need it explained.

It's taken me awhile to learn, this waiting to get angry instead of getting angry right away.

Or, sometimes, this arresting myself mid-fume, and reminding myself that what I heard probably wasn't what he meant.

But I like this part of our marriage. It feels courteous. It makes me feel like I can begin to understand St. Paul's comment that love is "slow to anger". Sometimes if you slow yourself down on the road to anger, you never get to anger at all, because you have time to see that there's nothing to be angry about.

That's my experience anyway. And it's a skill I'm trying to apply to my other relationships, but it's really something I think I learned in marriage. So, I'm wondering if it's a personality-specific thing, or if this is something other folks out there find themselves doing. Or, do you find yourself doing something similar, but you'd describe it differently?

I admit, this is really just about feeding my endless curiosity about human relationships. So don't feel obliged, but if you have something to say, I'd love to read it in the comments.

I'm finding that the older I get, the more fun it is to talk about what does work, as opposed to what doesn't. :)

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

writing playlist

The most important thing about writing a book is, of course, to write the book. That is: to write. That is: butt-in-chair-fingers-on-keys.*

But it doesn't hurt to have a few tricks up your sleeve to convince you to get said butt and said fingers doing their thing when you're sure it'd be easier to climb Kilamanjero than to get your heroine to the end of her scene. And one of the tricks I've come up with is making myself a playlist on iTunes for each book.

I put in songs that put me in the same mood I hope the book evokes in my readers. So I have a very different soundtrack for, say, my historical romance and my sci-fi adventure. 

I think it works because art feeds on art, and all of it is a long, long conversation. Listening to music prior to composing story is like eavesdropping for a second or two before you "hem, hem!" in your throat to let your friends know you've arrived at the party. It reminds you about what's going on with this circle of people and puts you in the mindset to discuss their fascinations with them.

So here's the current playlist for my historical romance (which has a strong theological theme running through it - hence the hymns):

-Arise My Love - Michael Card

-Ave Maria - Josh Groban

-Dela - Johnny Clegg and Savuka

-Do You Dream of Me - Michael W. Smith

-Hope to Carry On - Caedmon's Call

-How Firm a Foundation - Fernando Ortega

-I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) - The Proclaimers

-In Christ Alone - The Newsboys

-La Pared - Shakira

-Over the Hills and Far Away - John Tams/Dominic Muldowney

-Rogue's March - John Tams/Dominic Muldowney

-Springtime Indiana - Sandra McCracken

-That Where I Am, There You May Also Be - Rich Mullins

-There Is Power in the Blood - Fernando Ortega

-Thy Mercy - Caedmon's Call

-Walk in the Dark - Wayne Watson

-When She's Near - Fiction Family

Of course, not every song works for every scene! "La Pared" is great for the scene when my heroine is afraid the hero has been killed by French soldiers and is facing a life alone without him.  "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" for when we switch to the hero's point-of-view and he's fighting his way back to her. You don't want to confuse the mood of those two scenes. :)

But all in all, I'm really happy with the playlist. And tweaking it helps me tweak what I'm going for in the story. And listening the songs helps me remember what I'm aiming for as I write. 

I use different playlists for stuff like housecleaning and exercising too. Anyone else view iTunes** not just as a toy, but as a tool? And what do you use it for?

Peace of Christ to you,

Jessica Snell

*I finished another chapter today: joy for me! but sadness for my heroine. Poor girl. I swear I will give her a happy ending, but I don't think she'd believe me just now.

**Or other mp3-playing device. My husband would faint if he thought I thought iTunes was the only thing out there.

links: heresy vs. schism, what you can fit in the day, simplicity and more

First off, a short little meditation by David Mills, blogging over at First Things. Here's an excerpt:

Back when I was an Episcopal activist, both liberals who were busy gutting the Episcopal Church of its traditional beliefs and conservatives who didn’t want to challenge them were fond of intoning “Schism is worse than heresy.” It was a little odd to hear this from members of a tradition that began in a break with the Church of which it had been a part over what its leaders thought to be heresies.

But the real problem with the claim was theological: that heresy is itself an act of schism. It is a break with the tradition, a rejection of what had been the shared and official belief, a willful refusal to remain in unity with one’s brothers, a transfer of allegiance and obedience to a new and alien ideology.

I'd've copied more, but it's only about four paragraphs long anyway; I encourage you to follow the link and read the second half. It's brilliant. And sad.

Then, more brilliance from Patricia Wrede. You may have heard the rocks-sand-water-in-a-jar parable before, but I, at least, have never heard it told with this ending. If you ever feel like you're doing too much, or not getting done the things you think are most important, you'll want to go and read this.

Next, Auntie Leila on how we need to be less patient with our children. And . . . in the way she means it, I absolutely agree. Go read this wise woman's words.

Quotidian Moments has a short, simple post about, well, simplicity. I really liked this part, where she's talking about why she doesn't use Tapestry of Grace, even though it's a good program:

This is why I need simplicity, and it's why I have to define simplicity as what is simple for me. When I find some things overwhelming, I don't always know why. I have no idea why I can work with K12 fairly easily while TOG makes me feel jittery just looking at it. I just know I have to respect that. If I absolutely HAD to work with TOG, say, my husband really wanted me to or something, I'm sure I could make it work. But then, that would be different. Making things work is something different.

There's a sort of freedom in not needing to be involved with something that would be a burden, even if it is good in itself.

You've probably heard that muscle weighs less than fat, which isn't true, but here's a nifty photo showing what is true: that muscles takes up a lot less space than fat. I just think it's a neat visual.

This post on Conversion Diary offers a striking new perspective on the people who just happen to be in our lives (or, in other words, nothing's that random). In all honesty, this post has helped me even this week. 

This might be a bit connected to my current series (is it a series? It might be a series) on education and character . . . at least a bit. Anyway, go read about how "Christian faith is essentially thinking".

And, on that point, I'll leave off. I'll have a new post on homeschooling and character growth up soon, because I don't think I"ve changed my mind completely, but your comments and points are certainly refining my thinking on the subject, and helping me see what the ladies I met might have been getting at. I'm still mulling it all over, and I'm very grateful for the help you've contributed to that mulling-over process. Thank you!

Peace of Christ to you,

Jessica Snell

San Juan Capistrano! by train and by foot - a celebration of 7 years

This weekend, my parents took our kids (bless them! bless them!) and Adam and I got to take off for 26 hours of joyful celebration of seven years of marriage.

In other words: happy anniversary to us!

First, my sister (bless her!) dropped us off at a train station, and we waited for our train, enjoying the view from the pedestrian walkway over the tracks. 

Then we boarded the Pacific Surfliner, headed for San Juan Capistrano! We had a pleasant chat with a businessman who also had four kids, and enjoyed the view out the window. 

We got to San Juan Capistrano, slung our packs on our backs, and set out for our hotel in Capistrano Beach, about 4 miles away.  Before we left the city proper, we stopped at a grocery store and bought food, adding greatly to the weight in our packs!

We hiked along, enjoying the cool coastal weather and realizing just how much fun we were having. Seriously, it felt like we were kids who'd just gotten out of school and got to head straight to the swimming hole. We passed a car dealership and waited for some folks to pull out, and Adam said, "They just bought a new car . . . and they're still not having as much fun as us!" :)

Eventually we got to PCH, and then it was a straight shot to our hotel, which was lovely by the way. If you're looking for a place to stay, we were really happy with them. The whole hotel is built to welcome in the sea air, the patio is decorated in moss, stones and statues, the rooms are tastefully decorated and the continental breakfast had a waffle iron and batter - mmm!

We rested for a bit, and then, just when our feet had started to forget the hike down, we took a walk down to the beach. It was really pretty. It was a sandy beach, but down at the tide line there were big pebbles that made that lovely rushing sound as the waves went in and out.

We went in in our swimsuits, but quickly came out and got covered up again because it was cold. Then we putzed around for awhile, looking at stones and holding hands and generally goofing off.

When we got back to the hotel, we went to the spa on the roof (perfect!) and watched the sun set from inside the hot tub (it was lovely).

The next day we put our packs back on and hiked back to San Juan Capistrano.

We had a late brunch, putzed around the giant antiques mall, and then slipped into a pub in order to watch the end of the England vs. USA World Cup match. (It was actually the third match we'd caught some of on this trip - if you get a chance, watch a couple games. It's great stuff.) (I should also note that - bless them! - Adam's folks helped bankroll some of the treats on this trip.)

Then it was back to the train station, where we played a few rounds of golf (the playing cards kind) while we waited, and then it was back on the train.

This was just a perfect day. So lovely, so much fun, and all with the best of men, my husband. Lovely. I want much, much, much more than seven more years with you, Adam!

Shakespeare

I recently read a couple of great posts about Shakespeare, and so, wanting to hear a bit of the Bard myself, I put the soundtrack to this excellent performance of Twelfth Night on while I was doing the dishes. 

And, hands deep in the suds, I felt like thinking something deep about Shakespeare. But I couldn't think of anything deep. So instead, I just thought about why Twelfth Night is my favorite play of Shakespeare's. 

I don't think it's the best. (My vote on that - at least currently - is for Othello.) It's just my favorite.

And I'm still not sure why (Ben Kingsley's Feste doubtless has something to do with it), but I think part of it has to do with the cross-dressing part. Not because I think cross-dressing is a good idea. But because in the play, it's used as a device that allows the hero and heroine to fall into friendship before they fall into love. (Well, at least the hero falls into friendship first.)

And the more I think about it, the more I think that Twelfth Night is my favorite for a very biased reason: I fell into friendship before I fell into love (no cross-dressing involved). And I like reading a love story that reminds me of mine.

And my own love story? Probably not the best. But it's absolutely my favorite.

So, I'm curious, what's your favorite Shakespearian play? And which do you think is the best? And - here's the kicker - are they the same play? Or not?

peace of Christ to you,

Jessica Snell

p.s. Anyone want to do a challenge to read the Complete Works of Shakespeare? (Not to be confused with the Cmplt Wrks of Shkspr, Abridged.) Like I need another challenge. But . . . maybe in 2011?

true love and Truer Love

I have a few other blogs percolating, but here's a quick one for right now.
Someday, I want to get a nice print of this, and an equally-sized print of this, and hang them above my writing space. It's to remind me of what love looks like.
Here's the story: once upon a time, back in those halcyon pre-marriage days, when I was blissfully twirling around in the delicious winds of possibility, having yet to discover the more satisfying delight of actuality, I was in my college library, flipping through an electronic file of Bouguereau paintings.
And I saw this one. I admit, I stared at it for minutes on end. It was exactly everything I was dreaming of. (Remember, I was about 19.) I don't know if I was more enchanted by the enthralled feminine form (what I wanted to be!) or the smooth, perfect masculine body that held her (what I wanted to have!).  But that picture is pure, romantic bliss. It's aesthetic perfection and utterly captures the abandon that I was so carefully keeping myself from (and so hoping to someday lawfully experience).  I admit, upon seeing that picture, I was spellbound.  Especially by the perfection of Cupid's body, as Bourguereau painted it. I thought, that's what love looks like.
Really.  Those were the words going through my head. (Remember: young!)
But, eventually, I felt self-conscious staring at the picture for so long, and I flipped to the next one. And I saw this.
And, immediately, I knew I was wrong.  Oh, I thought. That's what love looks like.
I've never forgotten. And now especially, as I pursue a career writing romance, I don't want to forget what I've learned. So I want both paintings, hung up next to each other, like a diptych, to remind me of the lesson I learned.
There's love. And then there's Love. And the one only looks all-consuming when you look at it in isolation. Once you put them next to each other, there's no question which is greater. I don't want to forget.
peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell
p.s. I'd add that you also realize that the lesser love has to imitate the greater, or it won't survive.
p.p.s. Finally, and someday I might have to get this to hang over my diptych, I need to remember that love looks like this.  And like this.