A Single's Guide to Surviving Valentine's Day

Anyone who has ever been single during Valentine's Day (a.k.a. Single's Awareness Day or SAD for short) knows how awkward it can be. Whether or not you are happy being single or are desperately wishing for a significant other, you know that one of the worst things you will receive are the pitying looks from friends and family.

I was blissfully ignorant that I was worthy of pity on Valentine's Day all the way up till college (since I was homeschooled, it had just been a day like any other with the exception of a parental date night that would have left me in charge of the younger kids). My college campus was positively buzzing with Valentine's Day plans. One of the clubs even held a fundraiser during the season selling Crush sodas that you could send to your "crush." The girls who had dates oozed over their boyfriend's romantic plans while the singles threw pity parties in the dorm lobbies. Needless to say, pity from both the inside and outside really didn't boost the contentment factor of life.

So, this year I have decided to compile a list of hints and ideas to help keep singles self-pity free on Valentine's Day.

1. Pray. This is not just super spiritual advice that I threw in to make me seem like a good Christian girl. I'm really serious. If you have a tendency to feel sorry for yourself, pray for protection from those feelings. Also, if you have people in your life that rub your singleness in your face or make you feel inadequate, pray that God will shut their mouths. Ask God to show Himself to you in a special way on Valentine's Day. Remember that He loves you more than any person possibly could.

2. Have a "single's only" day. Get together with some of your single friends and agree before hand not to throw a pity party. Do something fun and maybe slightly crazy with each other! Go sky diving, play paintball, take the day off and drive to the beach (the crazy part would be going swimming in February!), have a chocolate party and watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory! Be creative!

3. Spend time with family. If Valentine's Day is supposed to be about celebrating love, spend it with some of the people who know you best and still manage to love you! If your family is on the younger side, it shouldn't be that hard to organize a family dinner and game night, but if all of your family members are older and married you will have to work around their plans. Volunteering to babysit your nieces and nephews while their parents have a date night is a good alternative. Not only would you be doing a huge favor for your brother or sister, you would also get a chance to become the "cool" aunt or uncle!

4. Don't start a relationship just for the sake of "not being alone." Selfishly using someone so that you won't have to feel insecure is always a bad idea.

5. Avoid romance movies. If you do find yourself alone on Valentine's Day, resist the impulse to pop in Pride and Prejudice (naturally most men won't have any problem with this bit of advice). I hopelessly love chick flicks, but take it from someone who has been single on Valentine's Day for 22 years running, romance movies just make self-pity worse. If you want to watch a movie, either pick something that completely avoids romance (think Finding Nemo) or a tragic drama that will leave you depressed but rejoicing in your singleness. One of my favorites is The Stoning of Soraya M. I dare you to feel sorry for yourself after watching that tear jerker!

6. Make someone's day. One of my mentor's, Dr. M, hand makes Valentine's Day cards and keeps them with her to hand out to random people. Even if you don't have time to make cards by hand, think about some little ways that you can bring sunshine to someone's life!

7. Do something for yourself. Buy that book or movie you have been resisting because money is tight...and then don't feel guilty about it! Get a massage, plan that vacation, start that book!

For the Jane Austen Fan, But Not for the Faint of Heart

          The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go.”  Dr. Seuss

          After about two and half months, I have finally finished reading The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe. This is no small accomplishment for me because not only does this cement my status as a Jane Austen fan, but it also means that I successfully read 672 pages of pure melodrama without throwing in the towel.

          The story centers around the orphaned Emily St. Aubert. Victimized throughout the story, Emily holds onto the thought of her lover, Valancourt, to help her survive the capriciousness of her guardian aunt and the evil schemes of her uncle, the Count Montoni. After being spirited away from her native France, she is held captive by Montoni in the dark castle, Udolpho, until some servants and a fellow prisoner help her escape.  In an odd and slightly confusing twist, new characters are introduced after Emily is liberated and the story shifts away from the "mysteries of Udolpho" to a mystery surrounding Emily's deceased father. A sudden revelation about her beloved Valancourt also throws a wrench in the Emily's dreams of a happy ending. Thankfully, all the mysteries and conflicts are eventually resolved and every obscure plot line is miraculously connected at the end.

I bought my copy at the Jane Austen Center in Bath, U.K

          If the above summary was the entirety of the book in a nutshell, then I probably would consider my time well spent. Unfortunately, the melodramatic undertone of the book turned even the conclusion into an unsatisfying let down. One rule of thumb that my creative writing instructor instilled in me was that "if your characters are constantly feeling sorry for themselves, then it will be hard for the reader to feel sorry for them." There was so much sorrow, depression, self-pity, crying, fainting, over-wrought sensibilities, and borderline manic frenzy that any shade of sympathy I might have felt for the hero and heroine disappeared within the first 100 pages. I now understand how Jane Austen could write a satire poking fun at this Gothic novel. 

          My final complaint lies behind the wordiness of the text. I am a wordy writer. I fully and completely admit that. But my wordiness does not hold a candle to the plethoric verbiage used by Radcliffe. At first I appreciated her minute descriptions of the setting, but the high-minded sensibility that put the characters into raptures over every mountain and valley soon bogged me down. In short, if the descriptions had been edited a little, the book probably would have been cut in half.
        
          To be fair, the plot was engaging enough for me to continue reading with plenty of curiosity. Radcliffe did an excellent job of teasing the reader with hints of horror without fully expanding the story in that direction. I also appreciate what Ann Radcliffe was able to accomplish through her works. Not only was she one of the first successful female authors in the English language, but she pioneered in the Gothic genre and influenced other writers such as Edgar Allan Poe.
        
          I would recommend The Mysteries of Udolpho to any serious Jane Austen fan and to those who enjoy Gothic novels but aren't intimidated by long novels. The book overall receives 2 out of 5 stars from me: 1 star for the Gothic elements of the story and 1 star for the sense of accomplishment I got when I finally put the book down.

Radcliffe, Ann. The Mysteries of Udolpho. New York: Oxford UP, 2008. Print.

Shalom, I'm Off to Israel!

19 pairs of socks rolled, taped, and stuffed in sandwich bags

I leave for Israel in about two weeks...this is stated with a mixture of absolute excitement and heightened nerves. Since I am a planner and I like being prepared in advanced for things, I practiced packing today. My sister generously has let me borrow her North Face Terra 65 back pack, which we have affectionately dubbed "Maximus".  Maximus has already survived three months in India, so I am very optimistic about our future together in Israel. I spent the better part of the evening squishing and squeezing nearly my entire wardrobe into the narrow but stretchy confines of the back pack. My sister, who is a veteran of international packing, was kind about my efforts, but stated that I needed to do a better job of it before I actually left. Considering that I didn't even get around to packing everything I need to take, I heartily agreed with her. But thankfully, after hoisting the load on my back with a lot of huffing and puffing, I found out that I am still 15lbs shy of the 50lb weight limit for checked luggage. I took that as a blessed relief.

Visiting Israel has been a dream of mine for a while. Naturally, the Land has spiritual significance for me, but over the years it has also taken on a deeper aspect; something that I don't even know if I could put into words.

History has always been a love of mine. I grew up watching and reading about heroes and villains during the great wars, especially WWII. Through that, I became very aware of Jewish history (apart from that which I had grown up hearing about in the Bible). From Anne Frank to Auschwitz, I learned about hatred and the drive to annihilate. I would look at pictures from the Holocaust and think, "These are real people. This really happened." I would wonder about who the people in the pictures were before the war. Were they happy? Did they laugh often? Did they see this coming or was it beyond their imagination? The sorrow of such things seemed to me like it would leave the Jewish people completely broken...

But then I look at the modern state of Israel. A thriving nation with a culture rooted deep in the Land. Israel is a miracle. I love what that says about God. Oh sure, there are plenty of modern critics and "holier than thou" types harping on the grandiose themes of the Bible until they philosophize the Jews into oblivion. But when God says things like, "Because you [Israel] are precious in My sight and honored, and I love you, I will give human beings in your place, and peoples in place of your life" (Isaiah 43:4, HCSB), I can't help but take Him literally.

"I love you." They are perhaps some of the most hackneyed words in the history of mankind, but when I read the above passage, I cried. It's so simple. Throughout all the struggles that Israel has been through, God is still saying, "I love you." What excuse do I have to do anything less?

I don't really know what to expect from this trip. I know that God orchestrated it, but the "why" is beyond what I can fathom. My heart's desire is that I will come away having been a blessing and being blessed in return. But, as always, the details I will leave up to God :)

A Regency Christmas

My copy of A Regency Christmas

          The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go.”  Dr. Seuss
         
          While I was browsing through my school's annual book sale last February, I came upon a little worn paperback that had the word "Regency" in the title. My immediate thought was "Hey, I love everything from the Regency Period [early 1800s England], so this book must be perfect for me." Thus, I paid a whopping $1 to take the little paperback home with me and it has sat on my shelf ever since.  
          Fast forward to December. In a spur of the moment decision, I pulled A Regency Christmas off my shelf and started to read it (gasp!) just in time for Christmas.
          The book is a collection of five short stories set in the Regency England all of which are written by different authors. The first story is "Three Good Deeds" written by Barbara Metzger. It follows three young boys who must make restitution for breaking a church window by doing three good deeds in their local village. The story is humorous and endearing because the boys end up plotting "good deeds" that greatly affects the lives of the adults around them (especially that of their attractive widowed mother).
          "Felicity's Forfeit" by Elisabeth Fairchild is the second story in the collection and it centers around a money strapped man with a title (I forget what kind of title) who must find wealthy spouses either for himself or his two sisters. Of course, he ends up falling for an American southern belle, Felicity (who drawls out her deep Georgian accent throughout the entire story), and his plans come perilously close to being ruined.
          The third story, "Second Chance" by Allison Lane, is about a governess with a secretive past who takes a job looking after her relative's children. The job becomes complicated when a family reunion during Christmas blurs the line between herself as an employee and the extended family that she played with as a child. An old love also enters the scene to complicate matters until she becomes terrified that all of her secrets will come bursting out. Naturally this story has a happy ending after the main character finally releases herself from her past and finally opens herself up to old love.
          The fourth entry to the collection is one of my favorites. "The Christmas Ornament" by Carla Kelly follows the matchmaking efforts of two families, one with a daughter who is too smart for her own good and the other with an academic son who has had no luck in romance. The narrative mostly follows the son and his bungled efforts to win the fair maiden. Finally, after lots of advice from wise fathers and several doses humility, the romance finally blossoms in such a way that left a huge smile on my face.
          The fifth and final story is "The Hounds of Heaven" by Edith Layton. This story was unique in the fact that I had absolutely no hope for the leading man. In short, he was a cad and philanderer. The story begins with this "prize" bachelor giving a marriage proposal to a sweet but strong woman, which she promptly rejects because he refuses to give a promise of absolute commitment to her. They both sink into melancholy (she really did love him) and the man is only rescued from his plunge into an alcohol ridden stupor by a puppy who happens to save his life. The puppy becomes very attached to the man and he to her, which eventually teaches him the true meaning of love and commitment. He is able to redeem himself in the eyes of the woman and she accepts his second proposal at the end of the story.
          I would like to note that, even though the stories are set in Regency England, they do not resemble Jane Austen's stories or writing style (sorry, I will always equate Regency with Miss Austen). However, this book is a good choice if you are wanting something light and humorous to cuddle up with on a rainy day. There is some language in a couple of the stories, but it wasn't bad enough for me to put the book down (which I have done before with other books). All in all, I would give A Regency Christmas 3 out of 5 stars; 1 star for humor, 1 star for enjoyable dialogue, and 1 star for giving me the warm fuzzies. 

Fairchild, Elisabeth, et al. A Regency Christmas. New York: Penguin Putnam, 1998. Print.

Loving Love Stories

          Romance movies, chick flicks, love stories…whatever you want to call them, I enjoy watching them. In fact, I love watching movies about love. Yes, I know you just cringed at how cliché and redundant that sounded. I also know that most of the cheesy scenarios screen writers come up with are hopelessly unrealistic. But I am still willing to spend my time and money to see the same story shoved into innumerable contexts and time periods over and over again. The guy always gets the girl and the girl always gets the ruggedly handsome guy who nine times out of ten practically falls from the sky only to land on her front porch nicely gift wrapped while sporting a killer smile that probably cost his parents a fortune in orthodontist bills---I digress. They all have the same happy endings; I am aware of this detail and, in all honesty, it’s kind-of the point.

          As a disclaimer, I also enjoy movies with unhappy endings. In fact, I am relatively certain that I am the only person on the face of the planet who actually liked Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles. But that's just one example. In addition, I also liked The Stoning of Soraya M., The Diary of Anne Frank, The Boy in Striped the Pajamas, The New World, Bright Star…I could go on, but you get the point. Along with unhappy movies, I also like action movies, foreign films, cartoons, documentaries, and sci-fi/fantasy.

          But romance movies are special. They give you that warm, fuzzy feeling that makes you believe that happiness still exists somewhere in the world. Let’s face it, life is full of misery, victimization, and death. In short, sometimes life just stinks. Even though I willingly see movies that portray the darker side of reality, there are times that I simply prefer crying over a happy love story than weeping over the inevitability of the human fate.  

          On a deeper level, for me romance itself has become a larger analogy of humanity’s relationship with God. Admit it; don’t you hate those stories in which the girl is constantly running from the guy even though they are perfect for each other? In the back of your mind you are wondering, “Ok, when is this going wrap up and have them finally get together.” That’s the story of human history. We run from God even though He is our perfect fit. We run because we refuse to believe that God will actually give us everything He is offering or because we have finally given in to the idea that reality means a life without God.

          If this concept of romance, divine or otherwise, makes me a love obsessed girly-girl then fine, you may dole out your labels as you see fit. But, as a final word, I must interject that wanting to see a little happiness sometimes makes me more of a realist than all the cynics in the world combined. Why? Because in reality, what is life without hope? The hope of peace, the hope of happiness, the hope of eternity; without it every day becomes a meaningless repetition of time until life itself fades into oblivion…What’s the point of that? I have hope for the future and, even though I have no expectations of my future looking like a Hollywood movie production, sometimes watching love stories reminds me that happiness is still possible in a world filled with suffering.

Isolated

I was faced with an uncomfortable fact about myself this weekend. After harboring perpetual fantasies of independence and “making it on my own,” the sudden experience of what it actually felt like to be completely isolated smacked me in the face.

Nothing truly dramatic happened. I was asked to dog sit for a family over the Thanksgiving holiday; so for an entire week it was just me and an old Labrador retriever hanging out in a quiet neighborhood. Being alone has never intimidated me. In fact, the prospect of solitude for extended amounts of time actually seemed like a perk. I enthusiastically made plans to read, write, work, catch up on my “must-see” movie list; even the idea of walking the dog in the peaceful wooded setting next to a running creek added a touch of romance to my expectations (no doubt encouraged by the Gothic novel I am currently reading). 

For the most part, all my expectations were met. I definitely enjoyed my days of peaceful solitude and independence, even though I did not see anyone for days at a time and was without access to a car. The house itself would have been completely bathed in silence had it not been for the whining dog, my momentary bursts of singing, the internet radio, and my multi-genre movie watching binge.

The problem did not surface until the sun set.

The open, flowing contemporary design of the home, which I adored during the day gave me a distinct feeling of unease at night. Every room had either a wall of windows or a skylight, so there was no escaping the dark outside view no matter where I went. Late at night, the dog would periodically run to one of the windows and start barking or growling. It was eerie to peak out the windows only to be startled by my own reflection. I constantly left all the doors locked.

When I went to bed, the house would creak and my over active imagination would turn them into footsteps. There were times when I even thought I heard whispering, which actually turned out to be the dog breathing at the foot of the bed. Needless to say, I did not sleep very well that week. I went to bed late so I could avoid having to turn all the lights off until the last possible moment and was awoken early every morning by the dog. Most days, I would curl up on the couch in broad daylight and try to nab a couple of hours of uninhibited rest.

The fear became so overwhelming one night that I was almost tempted to stay up on the couch until the sun rose. As a disclaimer, I am no stranger to the power of prayer or even to spiritual warfare. It actually did take some intensive prayer to finally get me to relax enough to go to bed (I prayed that Jesus would deliver me from the fear and He did, along with giving me a tender reminder that He had angels encamped around me).

But facing my own vulnerability was unnerving. The girl who had always been so content with the independence of single life suddenly found herself wishing for the security that a husband and family had to offer. All the dreams of traveling by myself and living on my own went flying out the window in favor wanting to have someone stronger nearby. It was quite a “reality check” moment.

Of course, I believe that God will protect me where ever He leads and that the safest place to be is the center of His will. I also believe in the power and might of God no matter what schemes the enemy might use against me. My problem was the fact that, in one week, all my ambitious dreams were squelched by a creaking house and snoring dog!

 It was definitely not what I was expecting from a week of solitude.

The Reading List Begins: Bonhoeffer

"The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go.”  Dr. Seuss

Since I started my reading list, it has only gotten exponentially longer. The more I add, the more it looks as if I will be working on this particular goal for years (in which case it might have to be switched over to my bucket list).

The first book on my list was Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxas. The book is a biography of the German theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer who lived during both WWI and WWII and who is now considered to be one of the foremost Christian thinkers of the 20^th century.

There is a lot I can say about this book because it covered a plethora of historical, theological, and ethical issues while still managing to be a page turner. But, rather than recount every minute detail, I am simply going discuss the points that primarily grabbed my attention.

First, perhaps one of my most nagging questions about World War II was answered by reading Bonhoeffer’s story: How could an entire country with a strong Christian heritage be deluded into committing such atrocities? The answer, more or less, was that German patriotism was manipulated by politicians. The Nazis brought the German people a sense of pride in their country after the horror and humiliation of WWI and the Treaty of Versailles. A strong idea of what it meant to be German developed, which made everyone who was non-German (or non-Aryan) a lesser citizen in the eyes of the general population. Even though it was the SS and Gestapo who committed most of the atrocities, the public turned a blind eye and refused to believe what they considered to be propaganda.

 Following the historical progression was heart wrenching. I had always believed that such hatred was purely a hallmark of Nazi Germany and nothing so tragic could ever afflict modern Western Civilization again.  What this book made me realize was that a combination of economic troubles, political dissatisfaction, and willing ignorance on the part of the people were all it took to allow evil to rise. 

Perhaps even more disturbing was the fact that Dietrich Bonhoeffer was one of only a few who saw what was coming and actively tried to prevent it. Other Christian leaders and many of Bonhoeffer’s own colleagues tried to reason with Hitler because they refused to believe that he was maliciously working against Christian principles. It was startling to realize that the Holocaust might have been prevented if the Christian leaders in Germany had been united enough to challenge the government. Unfortunately, too many Christians believed that the Church should only get involved in church related problems. 

Following Bonhoeffer through his letters, journals, and through Metaxas’ commentary as he walked through this mess of twisted theology and politics was…insightful, inspiring, thought provoking, sad, joyful…It was reassuring to discover that there were many in Germany who hated Hitler and the Nazis and who tried to depose them using any means necessary. But, at the same time, it was a hard truth to come by that most Germans were not the monsters I wanted them to be. They were just people with human faults and flaws. The only thing that set Bonhoeffer apart from the manipulated masses was his reliance on the Word of God.

Many Christians during that time had warped the Bible to fit their own ideas. Bonhoeffer, in contrast, believed that the Bible was the foundation and starting place of principles. He took what the Bible said seriously and tried to let it explain itself rather than filtering it through preconceived ideas.  The fact that Bonhoeffer stood with the Jewish people when it was considered unpatriotic to do so (a death wish by German standards) was a testament to his commitment to Biblical truth no matter what the cost.

I would like to note that this biography is the type of book that needs to be read multiple times to fully grasp its contents. I have only read it once; therefore my understanding is still perhaps a bit dim. But, even so, this book is likely to become influential in regards to how I interpret future political and religious issues. I would definitely encourage everyone to read Bonhoeffer. It is inspiring, thought provoking, and, most importantly, it shows that reading and believing the Word of God is the only thing that separates mankind from becoming either the manipulated or the monsters.

Metaxas, Eric. Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2010. Print.