I love reading and listening to classic books on audio. The old English and turn of the century American expressions tickle my fancy and make my imaginations meander down whimsical lanes of thought. Even just writing that line of malarkey turns up the corners of my mouth and crinkles the sides of my eyes as a subtle laugh quietly escapes. As a child, I often found contentment and calm solitude in the turning of the pages of my favorite prose or mellow-drama. The fictional characters whose travels I envied lived lives filled with challenges that they easily overcame. Damsels in distress were so often rescued by strong and capable hands that those imaginings made my heart go aflutter. A mind free of concern, an unfurled brow, and a carefree moment can still be found in a large comfortable chair with a favorite book.
In the real world I am both encouraged and disheartened to see my favorite books turned into movies. Jane Austin, Edgar Allan Poe, Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote stories of life, love, and the broken pathway to them. It seemed every novel of that era had a moral to the story, and everyone embraced that the heroin always was made safe in her lovers arms and the villain was ultimately dashed to smithereens. Good always overcame evil and the couple always lived "happily ever after."
If we look at our own lives as if our story were written on the pages of an old leather-bound book, would we recognize ourselves as hero or heroine? Would we look into the eyes of our lover and whisper the sweet kindness that brought our hearts such joy when we met? Would we stoop down to our children and smile into their faces while sharing our time and laughter with them. Would we look in the mirror and notice the wrinkles of time that are measured by the wisdom of our age?
I wish it to be so and so it shall.
"It’s not at all fanciful for me to think this way about you.
My prayers and hopes have deep roots in reality."
Philippians 1:7 (MSG)
Day 44: Meander