It's raining again. A good, comforting rain. I hula-hooped today, but wasn't outside much. It was a studio day. I also finished Gaudy Night, my favorite Sayers yet. It stirred me, made me think and feel necessary things, made me laugh repeatedly. And when I finished, I wept. Quiet, violent crying that left a deep-blue stain on a medium-blue patch of my quilt.
I don't know if I've ever really cried as an adult, because I usually think about how I look, or how to describe it. If I were really to cry, would I care? The emotion can't be too severe if you're thinking about how picturesque (or otherwise) it is.
At any rate, I was crying because Peter and Harriet were together. And because of how it happened. And because they struggled through so much, necessarily, and chose the hard way. Because that book speaks so much about passion and integrity and devotion to one's work, of loyalty to vocations, principles, and yet the messiness of emotion and human responsibility. There are so many sharp and poignant (and witty) lines. And it has so much to say about the sexes, and intellectualism, and courtesy. It is a gem.
That was partly why I was crying. I was crying because I got to read it, because I've had the privilege of so much, and am still selfish and feel stuck. Others are living and dying around me, and our souls are lonely, and GOD how do we reconcile that? And hell? Miserable lives or insulated easy beautiful lives, and then what?
I had to start thinking about the cross, because I was starting to view You as a cruel judge. And I thought of the flight to Egypt. You are not cold toward us.
I have to believe 1) that all these supernumerary ways You speak to me and make love to me are REAL and 2) that I can trust You to do the same for others. It is not my job to save, or to know everything. Or to make other people's decisions for them. It's certain that 3) I will move people toward You if I'm delighting in You myself. So that is a first necessity. Passion and joy. Don't let me commit the sin of indigence. Boredom. Duty and bitterness.
I don't know if I've ever really cried as an adult, because I usually think about how I look, or how to describe it. If I were really to cry, would I care? The emotion can't be too severe if you're thinking about how picturesque (or otherwise) it is.
At any rate, I was crying because Peter and Harriet were together. And because of how it happened. And because they struggled through so much, necessarily, and chose the hard way. Because that book speaks so much about passion and integrity and devotion to one's work, of loyalty to vocations, principles, and yet the messiness of emotion and human responsibility. There are so many sharp and poignant (and witty) lines. And it has so much to say about the sexes, and intellectualism, and courtesy. It is a gem.
That was partly why I was crying. I was crying because I got to read it, because I've had the privilege of so much, and am still selfish and feel stuck. Others are living and dying around me, and our souls are lonely, and GOD how do we reconcile that? And hell? Miserable lives or insulated easy beautiful lives, and then what?
I had to start thinking about the cross, because I was starting to view You as a cruel judge. And I thought of the flight to Egypt. You are not cold toward us.
I have to believe 1) that all these supernumerary ways You speak to me and make love to me are REAL and 2) that I can trust You to do the same for others. It is not my job to save, or to know everything. Or to make other people's decisions for them. It's certain that 3) I will move people toward You if I'm delighting in You myself. So that is a first necessity. Passion and joy. Don't let me commit the sin of indigence. Boredom. Duty and bitterness.
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