Chivalry Alert #1

As you may have noticed by the lack of once weekly reminders to read this blog in your inbox or home feed, I'm not so sure what should happen now that my year with Elizabeth is technically and quite over. In the meantime while trying--or forgetting at times--to figure out the answer to that question, I've decided to post at random when I see something chivalrous. This may be something done or said by either a male or female person or character (fictional or otherwise). In called it a chivalry alert, the idea is to celebrate women and men behaving decorously towards one another and restoring the fracture that comes from Eden.

The first installment comes from the final episode of Downton Abbey's most recent season. The now footman Mr. Molesley has helped a ladies maid Miss Baxter to come out into the light inspite of threats from the nasty butler Thomas. As they sit on a blanket near the seaside, she confesses her gratitude.

“I have to thank you Mr. Mosley.” Miss Baxter says.

 “Oh why is that?” asks Mr. Molesley.

 “There are things in my past that have made me afraid. I don’t know what will happen, but I’m not afraid anymore. You’ve made me strong, Mr. Molesley. Your strength has made me strong.”

You can watch online and see this sweet scene.

If you see any chivalrous acts you'd like to report, head over to bebennet's Facebook page and drop a post. Thanks for reading!

A P&P Proposal

Well this is just adorable. Upon arriving home one afternoon, this woman's boyfriend and family surprised her by putting on a re-enactment of the last scenes of Pride and Prejudice. She was handed a script and a dress and given the role of Elizabeth. Her mom sewed all the costumes, and her boyfriend, playing Mr. Darcy of course, proposed at the end.

Happy Birthday, Ms. Austen

Today, the 16th of December 2013, would be the 238th birthday of Jane Austen if authors lived for as long as their works do.

Perhaps in anticipation of this historic event, a watercolor portrait of Jane was recently sold at auction for $270,000. The portrait painted by James Andrews was commissioned in 1869 for Austen's nephew James Edward Austen-Leigh's biography of her life. 

Image from www.jasa.net

The Smile

                                                     by Alexandra Harmening
She jogged to the beginning of the stairs and pulled up, her abdomen cramping and lungs heaving. She walked out overlooking the gray sky and the stormy teal current. One flight below her view, a weathered man with thinning greasy hair and a puffy winter jacket stood shredding on an invisible guitar, rocking out to the private concert streaming from his over sized headphones. She smiled wishing she could take a picture and capture the strange homeless guitarist as he worshiped experience and the waves crashed beyond him.

Tiptoeing past him, she smooshed through the soft sand down next to the lapping water where the moisture seeped up and trimmed the earth.  A small pod of dolphins bobbed in the shallow surf and the deeper rollers. She smiled watching their fins peep through and their noses cut through the surging liquid
.
On her way back to the top and the street, she jogged upstairs past the man who had by this point removed the music from is ears and stood contemplating the surf. She flashed a smile in his direction. He stared up, grinning. His crinkled leathery brown skin sagged a bit. bristly silver hairs poked through about the yellow mouth. The eyes were glazed and distracted, but he grinned back, happy to be noticed not shunned.

He mumbled something unintelligible, so she asked, "Did you see the dolphins?" She was halfway up the next flight when he happily moaned, "No."

She stopped and pointed out, "They're right there. The dolphins."

He pointed at her and kept grinning, open mouthed. "You have a beautiful smile," he pronounced in an enunciated slur.

"Thank you." The smile grew into her whole face and shot out her eyes.

She had never considered anything particularly remarkable about her smile. In fact, most of the time it bothered her. The way her whole face scrunched up to allow her teeth to show. The way her large cheeks swelled and hid her eyes. When people took pictures, she always cringed at how her eyes practically disappeared into brown slits. So she worked to hold her eyes wide, straining her forehead muscles.

But despite all this, people always commented on the smile. Perfect strangers most of the time, usually older folk. "Keep smiling."

"That girl has a beautiful smile." The tech assistant, a white haired old man who loved to tease, would come into the library once a week, never failing to say something about the smile. "Well I will fix it for her becuase she has a great smile." And it always just made her smile grow.

"Ya," the leathery man on the stairs grinned through his gums. You are gonna make a boy. No," he trailed off. "Ya. Your husband weally..." She thought he said "really happy." But she just kept smiling and waited patiently for his mind to communicate with the muscles in his mouth. She felt unthreatened and unworried, enjoying being sweet. 

"Ya." He finished, grinning straight into her eyes.

"Thank you." She said sincerely. "Have a wonderful day." She trotted up the stairs blushing and still smiling.

Project Update

With just 2.5 weeks left on this year long blog project, I totally choked. There have been things happening but not much brain power left out to relate them. Although the time allotted for this whole Pride and Prejudice and gender ideas and Jesus doing awesomeness project is about to time out, the interesting lessons cropping up just keep coming.

One of these new lessons involves the possible co-dependence of trust and respect. I thought of this when thinking about how we sometimes want to say, "I will trust you as long as you do ...," or "I respect you as long as you don't..." Those conditions nullify the original statement. I'm still not totally sure yet what this all means, but I'm thinking it is really important.

Another idea involves the goodness of grief. Madeline L'Engle writes that "Wounds [can be] the Midwives of Loveliness." The importance of suffering is something that has danced around at the corners of my reason for the last year. But I'm learning as of last week that like Jesus weeping for Lazarus (despite knowing that he would bring him back in a couple of days) allowing grief over a wound might be the key to truly forgiving and stepping onwards.

I'm excited to see what God brings up next. Thanks for reading!

New Guest Post

Hey everyone,

Check out the post I had published called 4 Ways to Survive School Even If You Don't Have a Time Machine. It is featured on author Stefanie Weisman's blog Valedictorian's Guide.

If I Could Write a Letter to Freshman Me

Dear Me,

You're only 18 (which I know sounds officially old, but don't worry 'cause you will still feel like a girlish goofball at 21 and probably from here on out), and I know you are trying to figure out this college thing and this social thing and at the same time in the back corner of your mind--okay let's be real, the front and center of the cerebral cortex--you are watching out for some young man to watch out for you.

In the midst of the next six semesters which will drag and whirl simultaneously in one confusing hurricane, here are a few things to look out for:

• Relax. God made you like you are, so he obviously likes you that way and other people will, too. (I know. I know. It sounds crazy.)
• When he walks up to you and smiles for the first time, it's okay to get ridiculously excited. I'm pretty darn sure he really is the one.
• Mom and Dad don't want to tie you down, so try not to treat them like prison guards. 
• Graduating in three years. Not really sure what to say about that one other than, at least you only have to do it once. 
• Love people more, judge less. (There are already enough skeptics in the world.)
• Do keep trying as hard as you can. You won't be sorry. 
• Plunge in love with Jesus; he's so with you the whole time. 

Finally, lot's of people are praying. Thank them. 

Good luck, 

Me