Frankincense Wasn't the Only Option

Because we recently watched Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, I had to share this bit of randomnicity.

Picnic Poetry

Penned by the Good Catholic Homeskillets (alias: GCH)

There's something to be said

for sunsets in the park

for pumpkin streusal muffins

for dancing hand-in-hand

for paroxysms of cute

for whipped cream and Oreos

for mocking the avant-garde

for picnicking in the park

for watching pigeons fly

for laughing with best friends

for people-watching in random places

for wearing pretty skirts

for nuns who wear pink habits! (Holler. Love them.)

for the Basilica on the horizon

for skirts on a sunny day

for talking random nothingness

for ripples

for Italian soda

for people who sing/talk to themselves

for ducks on the water

for plump squirrels

for babies with big hair

....feeling the breeze on your legs.

There's something to be said

for duck diapers

for the limitless sky

for cat-tails

for being a woman

...and for peanut butter

for living life

for calling people/anmials/inanimate objects: "sweetie"

for wee voices

for long hair blowing in the breeze

for knowing how to count

for bronze that looks like wood

for little brothers

for kung-fu fighting

for secrets, mysteries, and illuminating the truth

for cottonwoods rusling the in the wind

for dreaming

for learning from mistakes.

There's something to be said

for trees over londs*

for sculptures which you are not allowed to climb on (but you do anyway *mischievous smirk*)

for coaxing wild animals

for summer adventures with dangerous women.

Happiness is in the small things- in living life moment-by-moment, and by finding delight in each little blessing that comes your way. Because those small things are really big things. Each moment, we're given a choice; a very simple choice: to choose God or to choose ourself. But that's a huge choice. That's the original choice that our first parents were given. And they botched it.

The more we choose God- the more we hand ourselves over to Him- we grow ever closer to being the person He intended us to be. But the oftener we choose ourselves, the smaller our spirits will shrink. The questions of a small spirit are: "What's in it for me?" & "What can I get out of it?" Those questions cut us off from all the joy God has to offer us. Because if you approach a sunset with the question: "What's in this sunset for me?" you'll miss the whole point of that sunset. You don't get anything from a waterfall, sunlight piercing through the clouds, listening to birdsong, or climbing trees-you climb trees for the sake of climbing trees. Because the tree is there-and it's beautiful- and, praise the Lord, you have limbs, which means you can climb that tree, so why not?

There's something to be said for living life as a seeker of Beauty and Joy, for choosing God in each moment instead of self (easier said than done, right?). And, by choosing God, opening yourself up to the beauty He's poured into each moment.

(Disclaimer: All these thoughts are the product of recent conversations with wonderful and intelligent friends. Major kudos go to them.)

*Lond (lah' nd): Eng., noun: a mix between a pond and a lake.

See? We're Not the Only Ones

Interesting article in the StarTribune on Thursday about a group of women who vowed to wear more dresses this summer. Coincidence, or are women finally tired of the jeans-and-T-shirt look that has become a staple of our grunge culture?

Dumbing Down Darcy

After a delightful, stimulating but intellectually difficult semester of Aristotle, Euclid, Plato, God and the likes, I prepared myself for a summer of mental marshmallow fluff (compared to the mental meat-and-potatoes of those intellectual giants). For me, a little chick lit goes a loooooong way, and I was about due for another bi-yearly installment. So, I scouted around the blogosphere and scored. Austenland, by Shannon Hale. Not only did I find chick lit, but I found chick lit that clearly had to do with one of my favoritest authors around. The book acquired, I settled down to enjoy myself, which I did. Up to a point.

Basic plot premise: Jane Hayes is a thirty-something New Yorker with an obsession for Mr. Darcy as played by Colin Firth in the 1995 adaptation. No mere mortal could live up to that ideal of manly perfection, and Jane's love life suffers. So, when her great-aunt Carolyn dies and leaves her an all-expenses-paid trip to an Austen-inspired resort, Jane hardly needs two seconds to agree. Austenland is a resort that caters to idle rich women obsessed with Austen and all things Regency. For a few weeks, they exist in 1816, living, for the most part, according to the social standards and technological limitations of the time (exceptions being made for modern bathrooms and makeup; cellphones not allowed). Actors are payed to romance the vacationing women, and Jane hopes she'll get a piece of the pie. But will this trip to Austenland allow Jane to kick her Darcy obsession for good? Or will she wallow in more daydreams of the perfect -- and perfectly unattainable -- Regency gentleman? This being chick lit, Jane gets more than just a brief Regency fling, and the novel does have some good things to say (more on those later), but first I'll flay it alive.

My first beef with the book is that it's chick lit. I like chick lit, in minuscule amounts administered at lengthy intervals. I think most women do. Who doesn't want to be the heroine, get the guy, and rub your opponents' faces in the dirt, at least every once in a while? But that's where my problem with these kinds of books starts. Even if the heroine is remotely life-like (and all too often she's model-thin, stunningly gorgeous, and has a closet larger than my bedroom crammed with the latest fashions), the story isn't.

I just have to come out and say it, unbelievable as it may seem, but life doesn't often dump all of these good things (clothes, looks, men, jobs, opportunities and talents) in your lap and wait for you to make your selection. Yes, chick lit is mostly escapist fiction. We want out of our daily lives and in on the perfect world presented to us in these books. But all too often this escapism leads to discontent with the lives we have. Don't get me wrong; I think our lives, as the lives of fallen humanity, are pretty pitiful, and we should always strive to be perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect, but that's obviously a life-long mission, and that kind of perfection doesn't entail driving a Ferrari or living in a chic downtown apartment. And as for the men in the real world? They're fallen humanity, just like us, and they deal with a lot of the same faults, disappointments, temptations, and icky real-world issues that we do (we have our differences, but that's a whole 'nother blog post).

Which brings me to issue number two: although Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy isn't real, ladies (and gentlemen, if you're reading this), he's so much more than Shannon Hale gives him credit for. Mr. Darcy is a wonderfully and realistically drawn character, and I deeply cherish the romance that Jane created between Elizabeth and Darcy. He deserves better than to be the prize at the end of a chick lit story. Henry Jenkins (or, as his Regency gentleman character is known, Mr. William Nobley), the Darcy-esque character of the story, is just that -- a door prize that Jane gets to take home with her at the end of her vacation. The real Darcy is so much more than that.

(Am I taking this too seriously? Probably, but two points: A) the copy of the book that I read included a study guide for pete's sake. You don't include a study guide with a book unless the book is worth studying. B) Any time you bring Austen and her works into a story, you'd better be prepared to go intellectual because that's what she is. Jane Austen did not write chick lit (this is why men are able to read her books); she put zing and thought and effort into what she penned, and that is not to be taken lightly. We may laugh at the opening line of Pride & Prejudice, but there are other universally acknowledged truths in her works that transcend the time in which she wrote them. A hundred years from now, people will still read Jane Austen; a hundred years from now, no one will know who Shannon Hale is.)

And there were good points: for one thing, Jane Hayes is obsessed with Mr. Darcy, not the latest celebrity heartthrob. She actually has standards for the men she dates, and they are standards based on a true gentleman. She's looking for a lifelong commitment, and most of the men she dates ("men" here being applied in a very loose sense) can't or won't give it to her. And eventually, she finds someone who meets those standards; she doesn't have to settle for less (they even want to have kids, albeit with the ever-stated caveat of "someday"). As far as chick lit goes, it's decent, enjoyable and clean.

But mixing Austen and chick lit? Mixing oil and water? I just don't know. Austen is so real and gritty (in a way, my friends; she doesn't rub her readers' faces in the crasser details of Regency life, but she does deal with reality). The idea of Darcy as a passive character to be won by a woman is inimical to the spirit that Jane imbued him with. In Elizabeth and Darcy's story, there is a beautiful give-and-take between the two of them that mirrors the romances of the real world. Elizabeth would be lost without Darcy, and Darcy's life would be far poorer without Elizabeth.

And, yes, Darcy is a fictional character. It's not healthy to be obsessed with a fictional character, even one as awesome as Mr. Darcy, especially as played by Colin Firth. But the spirit of Darcy lives on in the many wonderful, real but flawed gentlemen of this world. Why settle for a dream when you can have the reality?

How to Speak in Iambic Pentameter in 5 Easy Steps

1) Go for a 3.5 mile run on a hot summer day.
2) As soon as you get home, pant: "Get me to a shower!"
3) Run down the stairs to your shower
4) Turn on the coldest water possible, and
5) As it pours out of the fixture, let out a cold sigh of relief and begin to let your joy and thankfulness for the cold, cold water come out in the most epic language possible-it'll sound like Iambic Pentameter-results guaranteed! If it doesn't work-sue me.

It's the way Shakespeare was meant to be recited. :)

Summer

Around this time of the year, I always get really pensive-I spend a lot of time looking over the summer, analyzing and thinking over the events of the summer, and thinking of all the lessons I've learned this summer.
I think I've learned many, many things, most importantly:
God makes all things work out for the good. Throughout this summer, I've been touched and amazed by how well God has woven together the tangled, crazy threads of my life to create a beautiful masterpiece and story. It's awe-inspiring, heartbreaking and just incredible.

I've learned that a large part of being mature is knowing when and how to act on feelings that emerge.

I've learned that the reason I get up everyday is to LOVE-love my neighbor, love God, love my friends, love my family. Spread joy and peace and happiness and bubblegum everywhere I go.

I've learned that if you spread that love and joy to others, they'll recognize it as Christ's love, and they'll respond.

And one of the biggest lessons I learned this summer was the importance of friendship (well, that was a lesson I've been learning this whole entire school year). I realized how important all my friends are to me and how much I love them. A thought came to me-I get to spend eternity with these people! How cool is that? It's not like we're ever going to stop having to deal with each other-we're going to know each other in Heaven, we might as well keep knowing each other here on earth. Sorry, girls, you're suck with me. :)

So...
What have you learned this summer?