E. G. Runyan's Blog, page 2
July 2, 2024
The Battle of the Mr. Darcy's: The '95 VS the '05 Pride and Prejudice
Which of the famous Jane Austen Pride & Prejudice adaptations is better? Ah, the age-old question (dating all the way back from the ancient days of 2005) is still being asked today.
Unfortunately the question certainly isn’t going to be settled for good in this post, but as an avid Jane Austen fan who once watched three different Emma adaptations in the span of a week, I’ve long wanted to throw in my two cents concerning the highly controversial ‘95 and ‘05 films.
I'm excited to say that this post will be the first of a blog series on different Austen adaptations where we will discuss subjects such as plot, characters, soundtracks, cinematography and much, much more. So without further ado, let’s dive in!
I read Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice in its entirety when I was ten years old and loved it, but it wasn’t until I was twelve that my mother watched the 1995 Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth miniseries with me. Just last year I finally decided to give Keira Knightley a chance and watched the 2005 version with two of my brothers (they had never watched a Jane Austen movie and added quite colorful commentary; it was great).
I’m a big fan of film adaptations of my favorite books, but let me get it clear that I’m not a “film/book perfectionist”. I don’t care about minor plot changes in films because I believe that the film industry is a very different one than the writing industry; for movies to work and work well, they often have to diverge from the book. I believe the most important aspect of a film adaptation is that they stay true to the spirit of the original work; the purpose and message the author intended. What I want to see in a film adaptation is an author and their characters represented well rather than following the book exactly.
Directed by Simon Langton and screenwritten by Andrew Davies, 1995 P&P is a six-episode BBC miniseries. The producers, director, and screenwriter’s goal was to create a film that respected Austen’s narrative but that also followed the stories of “real people”.
Directed by Joe Wright and written for the screen by Deborah Moggach, the 2005 Pride & Prejudice was set in the late 18th century rather than the early 19th century for fear of being overshadowed by the ‘95 miniseries. While the script was simplified from the original book for the benefit of modern audiences, Deborah Moggach thought it very important to stay as true to Austen’s story as possible. She wrote as many as ten drafts before presenting the final version ready for the screen.
Feel free to throw things at me in the comments.
In Jane Austen’s novel, Elizabeth Bennet is the second daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and, while not the prettiest (Jane Bennet), the most rambunctious (Mary and Lydia Bennet), or the academic (Mary Bennet), she is by far the cleverest. Elizabeth knows how to make strong, thoughtful points using sweet surface-level words and she easily sees through the follies of society. However, sometimes this supposed foresight can make her prejudiced, and she is quick to make assumptions.
Jennifer Ehle plays Elizabeth Bennet to perfection. Sweet, ladylike, yet undeniably clever, she illustrates Austen’s character very well. I personally have no complaints with her performance/portrayal as Lizzie. My rating? 10/10.
Keira Knightley has what I would call “spunk”. A fiercer Lizzie, she acts rather less ladylike than Jennifer Ehle. In a few scenes she could even be called “silly”, something Elizabeth Bennet from Austen’s novel certainly would not have approved of, as Knightley giggles frequently and sometimes quite awkwardly in inappropriate settings. Keira Knightley definitely makes Lizzie come off younger and more immature than she is. However, her performance for the most part is very good; her character development throughout the course of the story is done well. My rating? 7/10.
Oh boy, and now we come down to it…one of the greatest controversies of our time. Mr. Darcy is the rich owner of Pemberly and the best friend of Mr. Charles Bingley. Though in social settings he is cold, unfeeling, and borderline rude, his unwelcoming exterior hides a thoughtful and moral heart.
Colin Firth is a good Mr. Darcy who plays his part extremely well. He brilliantly masters the silent and cold Mr. Darcy, but I do wish we’d been able to see more of Darcy’s warm and thoughtful side. While we do get a glimpse of it in certain scenes, he still comes off as a very unfeeling character for most of the movie. We only see him smile a handful of times. My rating: 8/10
Matthew Macfadyen is also a good Mr. Darcy who, like Firth, masters the cold Darcy exterior. Unlike Colin Firth, we do get to see his warmer side; he smiles more, and, by the end of the movie, it’s easy to imagine him and the spunky Lizzie as perfectly happy together. My rating: 8/10
Jane is the eldest of the Bennet sisters, and by far the prettiest and the best-tempered. Her grace and willingness to see the best in people sometimes leads her to misjudge their character; and her shyness often leads others to misjudge her.
Susannah Harker plays a good Jane; quiet and thoughtful. This is going to sound like a petty complaint, but she doesn’t seem to be quite as pretty as we are led to believe Jane is in the book. In fact, in the 1995 version Lizzie far outshines her in looks.
My rating: 9/10
Rosamund Pike is, in my opinion, the perfect Jane. Gorgeous, sweet, and thoughtful, she compliments Keira Knightley’s performance and is just right for Bingley. My rating: 10/10
Mr. Bingley becomes a local sensation when he buys Netherfield estate near Meryton. Good-hearted and kind, his enthusiasm sometimes makes him an awkward conversationalist. However, because of his good intentions (and money) nobody holds his sometimes thoughtless words against him.
Crispin Bonham-Carter originally tried out for the role of George Wickham, but was instead cast as Bingley. He plays the role incredibly well. My rating: 10/10
Simon Woods also plays a great Bingley; very enthusiastic and eager to please. I also give him a 10/10. In my opinion, both Bingleys cast in the different adaptations portray the Austen character to perfection. I can’t choose which I liked more for the part.
(And can I also say that this clip is amazing? It not only helps humanize Darcy but it shows how sweet and thoughtful Bingley is. Another point to 2005).
The plot of the 1995 Pride & Prejudice is near identical to the novel. The dialogue, characters, settings, everything is done almost word-for-word. This really brings Austen’s book alive (and makes all her fans swoon. It’s no surprise that most die-hard Austen fans go for the ‘95 version). It’s enjoyable to see the family dynamics and characters exactly how you would imagine them. 1995 is a fair, just, and faithful portrayal of Austen and her world.
Because the miniseries is so close to the book, there are parts where the plot seems to drag a bit. Almost nothing is cut from the book. Some people love this, but only some people: and most of them big Austen fans.
Because so much is kept in, this makes the ‘95 seem long and dull to people who aren’t familiar with the original story or who are, but aren’t easy fans of long regency-period movies. The thing is, in this day and age 1995 is pretty much only a movie for fans. It doesn’t hold appeal to non-readers because of its length and how difficult it can be to follow. I’m not a fan of this because I want films to bring the story alive to people who haven’t read the book before. I will say though that a lot of these problems have to do with when the 1995 P&P was made and isn’t the fault of the director and screenwriter.
My rating of the overall plot: 8/10
I love how the 2005 version brings the P&P story alive in a simpler, easier to understand way. The dialogue is more straightforward and the cutting of different book scenes and minor characters helps create a storyline that is easier to follow while also staying (decently) close to the heart of Austen’s novel. The 2005 Pride & Prejudice is definitely a modern adaptation; it’s more dramatic. A lot of die hard Austen fans hated this about the 2005 movie, and this will be highly controversial, but I actually enjoyed it. Yes, it may not be realistic for the time period. Yes, it may not be something Austen would have written. But objectively it makes for a really good film that (1. Makes sense to those who aren’t familiar with the P&P story (2. Appeals to the modern generation.
I thought some of the slight changes to the 2005 movie were especially good, especially the emphasis on family and family dynamics. The Bennet parents and younger daughters are known for their impropriety, but we get to see some amount of resolution in the 2005 film that we don’t see elsewhere. When Mr. Bennet embarrasses Kitty, he goes and finds her afterwards and comforts her. When he questions Lizzie about her love for Mr. Darcy, he tears up and says, “You really do love him, don’t you?”
It’s a really sweet father-daughter moment and makes the film really meaningful. It may not stay strictly to the book, but it makes for a really good movie.
I said before that I liked the more dramatic take on P&P for a modern audience; but there are a few exceptions.
I liked the first proposal scene and think it worked well for the movie. But the happen-chance meeting in the pouring rain made me roll my eyes a little bit. The same goes for the second proposal scene where Darcy comes up the hill to see Elizabeth half-dressed in his pajamas. A Jane Austen group I was in went as far as to christen it “the unbuttoned shirt”, a name that still makes me laugh (if any of you guys happen to be reading this, I salute you). It wasn’t in the slightest realistic for the time period.
Potentially the part that irks me the most is when Darcy delivers his letter to Elizabeth late at night while she’s standing in her pajamas staring into the mirror. It makes no sense. How did he get in there? Why didn’t a maid introduce him? It just arouses a lot of questions.
I'll also say that Lady Catherine visiting in the middle of the night was pretty far-fetched; but again, I can see why they did it for the story.
I will note that not everything in a story needs to make sense. Stories make us suspend our disbelief a little; that’s one of the great aspects of a well-told tale. Overall, I think these changes made the movie good, even if an Austen fan like me easily saw a lot of things to question in them.
My rating of the overall plot: 7/10
This one has to go to 2005. Although it is set around twenty years before Austen’s novel is supposed to take place, it is by far the most realistic. We see our characters going about daily life, interacting with farm animals etc.
Now, there are exceptions (Mr. Darcy walking up to the Bennet's house at six in the morning, for example). But generally when it comes to life at home, 2005 rings true to actual regency era practices.
Again, this one has to go to 2005. The 1995 is very pretty with elaborate sets and costumes, but it really can’t compare to the beautiful sunset and sunrise shots in the 2005.
The score to the 1995 miniseries is sweet, with powerful strings and lots of piano, and I easily give it an 8/10.
However, Dario Marianelli’s 2005 score is gorgeous. The simple piano is iconic, and the 2005 P&P is definitely one of my favorite film scores to date; I listen to it regularly while writing. I give it a 10/10.
Overall, I think the ‘95 and ‘05 versions are pretty evenly matched. They both have great things going for them. I believe that the ‘95 is the better representation of Austen due to its complete faithfulness to the novel, however, ‘05 is objectively a brilliant film.
If you are a die-hard Austen fan, you will probably prefer the ‘95 version. However, if you aren’t into Austen all that much but are interested in watching one of the movies, you should probably go with the ‘05. But really; whoever you are, both are worth the watch.
My personal favorite would probably be the ‘95 because of nostalgic reasons. But ‘05 comes really, really close, and on any given day I could choose one or the other pretty equally.
Do you agree with my takes, or disagree? Which P&P version is your personal favorite? Comment below! I’d love to hear your opinions.
June 21, 2024
I'm Having a Writing Prompt Competition
Photo credit to Ihor Maylytiskyi on Unsplash.
I've been wanting to do this for almost a year, and today is the day. I'm excited, delighted, and thrilled to announce that I am holding a short-story competition.
The top three finalists will be published on my blog, and the first place winner will be receiving a CASH PRIZE.
I chose this prompt because it's not only a musical prompt, but a visual one. You will be writing your story with this song and picture in mind.
Who is that man, and why is he standing on the shore in a suit? Why is he looking out to sea while holding a pocket watch? Is he waiting for something, or someone? It's A Matter of Time until...what?
Notice the constant ticking in the background of the song and the woman's voice singing. Why are these different sounds present in the music?
Your story should exceed 1,000 words and hopefully be under 5,000 words. (But if you go over by a few hundred words, don't sweat it).
I'll expect your story to adhere to the following guidelines. If any are broken, your story's out of the running. Sorry, but writing uplifting stories is what we're going for here.
No inappropriate/sexual content. These stories are going to be read by kids. Write them accordingly. We want to read something edifying and respectful.
No profane language or taking the name of the Lord in vain. It's important to have reverence for the Lord's name and to use clean language.
Genre? Choose whatever you want. I'm open to fantasy, contemporary, historical fiction, or even cyberpunk aliens who live in the Quantum Realm (please don't plagiarize Marvel, though). Let your imagination run away with you.
Your story must be submitted before July 31st in this form. If you have a hard time remembering that, just remind yourself to get your tall tale in before Harry Potter's birthday.
The winners, and only the winners, will receive an email by September 7th letting them know that they have won. The 1st place winner will receive a $20 dollar Amazon gift card as well as having their story published on this blog. 2nd and 3rd place winners will not receive a prize, but their stories will also be published on the blog. Think of it like an honorable mention.
Those who do not win will be acknowledged and thanked in a participation post where blog readers can still find the links to their blogs, social media, email lists, or any other place where they can connect with them online.
Please edit your piece before submitting it. Typos and bad grammar/punctuation irk me greatly, and it's just not professional. You'll still be in the running if I find some mistakes, but if you're a finalist I'll be asking you to fix them.
Also...I love good, strong characters. If your story stars a relatable protagonist with real struggles and a redemption arc, you're hitting my sweet spot.
What are you waiting for? Start writing!
June 15, 2024
My Summer Happy List
Photo credit to Ian Schneider on Unsplash.
The things I love about this summer
Patio Lights
Bare feet
Cut grass
Moonrise
Freckles
Guitar
Swing sets
Long walks
Sneakers
Late nights
Four Wheel rides
Crickets
Family time
Sunsets
Conversations
Friendships
Sunburns
Starry nights
Porch chairs
Fireflies
Clear skies
Lemonade
Sparklers
What's on your happy list this summer? Comment below!
~Molly McTernan's Summer Happy List~
Photo credit to Andrew Bui on Unsplash.
June 3, 2024
Are You A Self-Isolated Artist?
Photo credit to Gadiel Lazcano on Unsplash.
And it was awful.
Whenever my birthday rolled around and my parents asked me who I wanted to have over, I couldn’t think of anyone. Sure, there were the acquaintances I saw here and there, and the kids at church were nice, but I didn’t have anyone who I wanted to invite to a birthday party.
So, when my birthday rolled around I always ended up feeling sorry for myself. On my thirteenth birthday in particular I was borderline miserable, crying off and on and wishing I had friends in the world. I found this written in my old notebook the day before that birthday;
I prepare to enter teenage-dom, and I cannot say that I have one truly close friend here at home. Will I always have to be so alone? I am weeping inside.
Pretty pathetic, huh?
And why did I have no friends? Why did I cry and feel sorry for myself when my birthday came every May?
Because I was isolating myself.
I had made myself into a victim. I had made myself into the poor, misunderstood individual nobody wanted to be friends with. But how had I gotten to this place of selfishness? How had I tricked myself into believing this lie?
I had placed my identity in my writing.
I had a list of qualifications someone who called themselves my “friend” needed to have, and I had it all planned out. They needed to be a writer just like me. They needed to love to read, but it would only count if they liked all the same books I did. If they enjoyed things I didn’t, like a different genre of music, or different movies, or worst of all, they liked sports, they couldn’t possibly be my friend. Why? Because someone different than me couldn’t possibly appreciate or understand the things I did. And if they didn’t, they couldn’t appreciate me either, because in my mind I was those things.
In essence, any real friend needed to be a mini-me.
Nobody who wasn’t “just like me” could be my friend.
Pretty disgusting, right?
But unfortunately I’m not the only artist who has bought into this twisted narrative.
A few months after my thirteenth birthday I joined a writing community of around one thousand other teen Christian writers and artists. And I began to see the same pattern I had fought popping up everywhere in the forum spaces.
A lot of the students expressed how they didn’t have friends in their day-to-day life at home. I regularly saw self-pity posts, lamenting the fact that everyone in their lives misunderstood them and their writing.
One student even went as far as to say that to be a writer is to be forever misunderstood by the world.
Nobody in the forum corrected her.
How messed-up is that???
Of course, any form of social media is going to produce people who are feeling sorry for themselves, and I’m not saying that all of those writers weren’t actually misunderstood at different times. People misunderstand and judge each other every day, and I’m sure some of them were facing true negative treatment because of their writing.
But I do believe that most of them were choosing to misunderstand others. By seeing themselves as the ones misunderstood, by seeing themselves as the people everyone thought were weird, they were cutting off potential relationships with others because the people around them were different from them!
In a nutshell, they were doing to others exactly what they were accusing everyone else of doing to them.
It’s the definition of irony, am I right?
During my period of supposed social exile, I happened to watch a lesson from S.D. Smith, author of the million+ selling Green Ember series. One of his points in the lesson bothered and confused me. It was:
Don’t just hang out with other creative artsy types.
And under the point, he had written, “GROSS”.
What? I thought. Why would he say that? I’ve been looking for years for other creatives to hang out with. How could that be “gross”?
S.D. then went on to explain that his best friend was a woodcutter; someone that wasn’t artsy at all. And while he did say it’s important to have people in your life you can discuss your art and passions with, it’s not a necessity. You need people in your life who are different. People who challenge you to consider other hobbies and activities, people who help you broaden your horizons.
If you don’t have artsy people available in your daily life, that’s okay. Don’t cut off other relational opportunities because of it. God has placed specific people in your life for a special reason. Don’t blind yourself to that.
It took me three long, lonely years to figure out what I was doing wrong; the point I was missing out on.
For someone to be your friend, they don’t have to care about the things you care about; they just need to care about you .
A good friend is going to care about you and your well-being as a person. A good friend will challenge you and enjoy you. A good friend doesn’t need to be someone who loves to read, write, paint, sing. A good friend needs to be someone who genuinely cares for you. I’m not saying that relationships should be focused on ourselves; I’m making the point that all you need in a friend is for them to value you and for you to enjoy and value them.
What happened to me in my relational dilemma?
Well, let’s just say that none of my close friends in Kansas are writers. Most of them don’t like to read. They prefer Marvel movies to the Lord of the Rings, and all of them play sports.
As for me?
I still love writing. I still enjoy finding a good book to read. But I’ve also come to love Marvel movies. And I’m getting ready to start my first season of basketball this fall.
Best of all, I have a large, wonderful group of friends who I love hanging out with. They push me in the things that matter; in my faith and relationships.
I can guarantee that there are amazing people all around you who would love to be your friend.
Have you been isolating yourself? If so, how can you break this cycle and push to befriend the people God has placed in your life?
May 24, 2024
Ricky Nelson and the Art of Pleasing Yourself
The term “please yourself” naturally and rightfully has selfish connotations, so when I first heard the Ricky Nelson song Garden Party through Owl City’s electro-pop cover, my first impression wasn’t positive. The chorus “You see, you can’t please everyone // So you gotta please yourself” sounds extremely self-focused and dismissive of the importance of creating art for others. But after reading Owl City’s blog post giving the song’s backstory, I found that there was a lot more to the lyrics than I first thought, and that, instead of telling the listeners to create selfishly, Ricky was trying to tell them the opposite.
Ricky Nelson was one the biggest teen idols of the ‘50s and in 1971 he and a score of other big artists were asked to perform in a Rock n’ Roll Revival concert hosted in Madison Square Garden. When Ricky Nelson and the Stone Canyon Band got up on stage they performed Ricky’s classic hits. However, when they started singing The Rolling Stones’ “Country Honk” the crowd of hippies booed them off the stage. Ricky Nelson stayed backstage for the rest of the show, refusing to reappear even for the finale.
When people don’t like your creations, it’s hurtful, and if you're like me your gut reaction to criticism is to go on the defensive. But as painful as it is to have your work disliked, I can’t even comprehend how it would feel to come to a show excited to share your music with an audience only to have them instead boo you away.
But Ricky Nelson didn’t go on the defensive and he didn’t become bitter. Instead, he wrote a song.
I went to a garden party to reminisce with my old friends
A chance to share old memories and play our songs again
When I got to the garden party, they all knew my name
But no one recognized me, I didn’t look the same
But it’s all right now, I learned my lesson well
You see, you can’t please everyone so you gotta please yourself
People came from miles around and everyone was there
Yoko brought her walrus, there was magic in the air
And over in the corner, much to my surprise
Mr. Hughes hid in Dylan’s shoes, wearing his disguise
But it’s all right now, I learned my lesson well
You see, you can’t please everyone so you gotta please yourself
I played them all the old songs, I thought that’s why they came
But no one heard the music, we didn’t look the same
I said hello to Mary Lou, she belongs to me
And when I sang a song about a Honky Tonk, it was time to leave
But it’s all right now, I learned my lesson well
You see, you can’t please everyone so you gotta please yourself
Someone opened up a closet door and out stepped Johnny B. Goode
Playing guitar like ringing a bell and looking like he should
If you gotta play at garden parties, I wish you a lot of luck
But if memories were all I sang, I’d rather drive a truck
But it’s all right now, I learned my lesson well
You see, you can’t please everyone so you gotta please yourself
You see, you can’t please everyone so you gotta please yourself
You can’t please everyone so you gotta please yourself
Ricky Nelson knew his art had value. He knew that it was worthwhile. But instead of conforming to what the crowd thought was beautiful, he decided to continue to create what he knew was beautiful.
Creating beautiful things in a dark world means that your art probably won’t be appreciated as much as it should. You can’t please everyone, meaning the world most likely won’t value it like you do. So, you’ve gotta please yourself, meaning you are called to create what you know is true and beautiful anyway.
After his untimely death in a plane crash, Ricky Nelson’s son Gunnar wrote about the song Garden Party:
“After a lifetime of pretending to be a character he wasn’t — wearing the sweater on Monday on the set of Ozzie and Harriet after being a real rock star on the weekends — he was writing and performing for his own pleasure and satisfaction. The song was based on his experience at Madison Square Garden and he turned what could have remained the darkest day of his life into his brightest shining moment. Just when the music industry considered him a relic, filing him away as yesterday’s news, he had the biggest hit of his career and it was totally autobiographical.”
Give Garden Party a listen and be inspired to keep creating what the crowds are booing off the stage.
You can’t please everyone, so you gotta please yourself.
May 15, 2024
For Grandpa
Grandpa, I wonder if I ever told you that you’re the one who first inspired me to write fantasy.
It began when you started reading Christopher Paolini’s Eragon to us grandchildren. This was a brave endeavor to say the least. The oldest was probably ten at the time, the youngest around four or five, but you hefted up that three-to-four inch book and dove right in. I can’t say we were always the most attentive. But I can say you were patient, and I can’t count all the times you’d stop reading and say in your mild tone, “Hey guys, can you pay attention?”
And we would.
Well, for at least another ten minutes or so.
You found ways to test our listening abilities too, usually by making bathroom jokes at serious points in the story to see how we’d react. I’d be innocently coloring, listening to you read with one ear and my cousins whisper with the other, and then you’d say,
“And Eragon got so scared, he wet his pants.”
The whispering stopped.
Dead silence.
Then someone would ask,
“Grandpa, does the book actually say that???”
It didn’t, and I’m not sure what the Moms would have thought if they’d known that you were reinforcing potty jokes. I think we all turned out all right for the most part, though.
Eragon isn’t one of my favorite fantasy stories, but after you read it to us I found myself inspired. All that fantasy stuff was pretty cool, after all, and so it was that I began writing my first fantasy epic at the ripe age of nine. I think I got three pages in before quitting. I wish I’d let you read it, but it never crossed my mind, just like it never crossed my mind to tell you how much you inspired me. You inspired me in many ways, not just in fantastical ones. I wish I’d told you that, too.
You read us other books besides Eragon. You read us The Chronicles of Narnia and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and then you watched the Gene Wilder movie with us. I remember that one day when you had to work and Grandma read to us instead. She did a good job, it just wasn’t the same. Sorry, Grandma, but I think you understand.
Most of my memories of you have to do with either laughter or stories. Like the time you accidentally killed all the fish in the fish pond by letting the hose run too long and I found them, floating at the top of the water with their mouths hanging open. Eight year old me pretended to be mortified, but I was actually delighted to stumble upon this tragedy. “MOM, guess what I found?!” Mom laughed so hard about that. All of us did.
Then when I was eleven I was officially made your librarian when I convinced you to read the Harry Potter books. I gave you Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and from that point on we were emailing book recommendations back and forth. I was so proud whenever you told people that I was your “resident librarian”. You made me laugh with your comedic email book updates, and after everything that happened this last week, I went back and read them and laughed all over again. Whenever you told me that you’d loved a book I’d recommended, it made my day. I think your favorites I ever lent you were Pam Munoz Ryan’s historical fantasy Echo and John Flanagan’s fantasy Ranger’s Apprentice series.
You never finished the last book I lent you. I think it’s the only book I ever gave you that you didn’t finish. I found your bookmark set at chapter five, and I’m going to keep that bookmark. I wish you were here to talk about the story with me. I wish you were here to talk about a lot of things.
We had the same taste in music, too. One night when I was eight all the grandkids were dancing on the patio swinging glow sticks around and I asked if we could listen to Owl City. Owl City was the last modern band you loved, and you loved all the best oldies songs too, like the Beach Boys, the Beatles, and John Denver. I stumbled upon your old Spotify profile and found your John Denver playlist. That made me smile. I think of you whenever I hear Surfin’ USA and Grandma’s Feather Bed.
It’s funny that the thing that made me cry the hardest was when I remembered how every time we came to your house you’d walk us back to our car and give each of us grandkids a thing of smarties and a packet of sixlets to eat on the ride home. It’s funny that the things I miss the most are the little things, like your high fives and the way you always referred to me as “Em”. That was the only real nickname I’ve ever had, and you’re the one who gave it to me.
You gave me a lot of things.
Grandpa, I wanted you at my graduation. I wanted you at my wedding. I wanted you to meet my children. And that’s just it; I wanted you forever, Grandpa. But no one gets forever, and neither did I. Instead, I got fifteen years. Fifteen wonderful years of love, and books, and laughs, and Christmasses, and high-fives, and hugs, and sixlets, and smarties.
Man, was I blessed.
And now as I’m writing this I’m realizing that for all these lengthy paragraphs, meaningful as they are, they could really be summed up in just four words. Everything I feel, everything right now that hurts beyond tears and words and music and even laughter, need only be explained in one line.
I love you, Grandpa.
We all do.
I’ll always treasure the story my Mom told me that day a few years ago when just she came over to hang out and you walked her out to the car like always and told her,
“I don’t think you realize, but Emma’s special. She’s special.”
Some people have told me that I’m smart, and talented, and gifted, but none of that, nothing, no compliments from anyone I’ll ever meet ever for the rest of my life here on this broken earth will mean as much as knowing that you thought I was special, Grandpa. You did so many amazing, incredible things. You raised nine godly children who each love the Lord and are teaching their children to do the same. You were a sweet, sacrificial husband who gave up time and money so that your wife could stay home and homeschool all of your kids. You kept your cabinets stocked with candy every year of my childhood and you made the world’s best popcorn. You were a godly, wonderful, strong man. Thank you for everything you gave me and everything you did for me. You made me into the person I am, Grandpa, with your stories and your smiles and your quiet authority. You were a good man. The best man. You were one of the greatest men I’ll ever know.
I love you, Grandpa, and I miss you almost as much as I love you. Maybe we don’t get forever with you, not here on this earth. But we’ll get eternity with you.
And that’s a thousand times better.
May 10, 2024
War On the Roof by Karis Anne
Photo credit to Taiwangun on Unsplash.
Allow me to welcome Karis Anne to the blog today with a hilarious and witty blog post! I first had the pleasure of meeting Karis a couple of months ago when she found my blog and emailed me out of the blue. Since then I've loved reading her content at karisanne.com. Make sure to check out her work and subscribe.
And now, without further ado...I present to you War on the Roof!
Karis Anne
Airsoft War.
Just hearing the name makes you want to cue the epic battle music, doesn’t it?
Bullets fly. Your teammates switch teams on you. You walk softly across the roof and then jump down onto a balcony with the grace of a cat…
Wait a second. For some reason that last one doesn’t quite seem to ring true to reality.
At least, for me it doesn’t.
I seem to struggle with a sensitivity…you could even possibly use the word “fear” of heights. I have tried so hard to conquer it.
I have climbed walls. I have ridden free-fall rides.
But when it comes to me and trusting myself on a roof, for some reason (sigh!) the roof always seems to emerge victorious.
So when my teammate Wesley suggested that we climb on the roof to help our team at the beginning of the airsoft round, I had qualms.
But, of course I wasn’t going to tell those qualms to Wesley.
I’ll be fine, I thought to myself, this won’t be an issue.
I imagined myself striding across the roof behind Wesley without fear, shooting down at the enemy team (and hopefully actually hitting them), and then sliding down the steep metal sides to the ground (landing on my feet of course).
So, I stuffed my airsoft gun in my hoodie pocket, and climbed up the ladder to the roof behind Wesley. But, as I put first one foot and then the other foot down on the steep, smooth-ish incline, my second thoughts began to surface.
This is the stupidest idea in the history of the world.
Not the idea to climb on the roof. But the idea for me to climb on the roof.
I took several steps behind Wesley as he nimbly climbed up to a flat section at the highest part of the roof, and then I froze as I felt my shoes start to slip…
Wesley turned to me. “Come on up,” he said, “it’s nice and flat up here if you can just get up here.”
“Wes,” I said dizzily, “I-I’m afraid of heights.”
He stared at me. “You’re afraid of heights? Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”
I grimaced. I had been hoping that this time would be different. I had been hoping…
“Well,” said Wesley, “You can climb up to this flat spot on all fours, or you can get down.”
What did he think I was, a fraidy cat? (Yes, I am most definitely a fraidy cat.) Now that I was up, of course I had to stay up.
Maybe somehow I could conquer my fears and then take out some enemies with my airsoft gun like a pro.
Huh. Wishful thinking.
How did Wesley make it look so easy? I wondered as I maneuvered up to the flat spot slowly (very slowly). At the rate I was going, the airsoft war was going to be over before I got a chance to shoot anyone.
Wesley had an air of sympathetic impatience about him, but he said nothing. I arrived at the flat spot, and he looked at me.
“Okay, let’s go,” he said.
Wesley is a man of very few words.
I breathed shakily, and nodded.
Wesley nodded too, and then promptly took off across the roof. Frustration welled up inside of me.
How does he walk so fast…so confidently?
I took a deep breath and stood up on the flat spot. Then, half walking and half crawling, I made my way over to him again.
Wesley was standing and looking over the edge of the roof to the ground below.
“So, it doesn’t seem like there is really anyone to shoot up here,” he said.
I looked with him. Nothing moved over the ground below. No easy targets. No enemies…and no teammates either.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
Wesley looked back at me.
“They must be somewhere else,” he said, “we’ll be more helpful to our team if we get down.”
Get down? My numb brain warned me, but I just got up! I can’t get down!
“Uh…” I said, trying to find a reason to not maneuver myself all the way back down to the ground, “Uh, can’t we just lie up here and wait for someone to come who we can shoot?”
What lame reasoning. Wesley saw through my suggestion like you might see into an airsoft gun without a cartridge.
“Getting down will be easy,” said Wesley.
I stifled my inner groan, “How are we going to do it?”
Wesley took a few steps in a different direction, sat down on the edge of the roof, and jumped to a balcony below. He landed with a thud and a half-roll almost like the kind that you might see in action movies.
Then, he stood and looked up at me.
“You can do it,” he said, “it’s not far.”
I sat down on the edge of the roof and looked down: Not far? You call THAT not far?
It had to be at least ten feet down.
“I don’t think I can do that,” I said.
“It’ll be fine,” said Wesley in a reassuring tone, “When I jumped, I thought that it was far too. But it is not as bad as it looks.”
At this point, I didn’t care if it was “as bad as it looks.” I cared that the drop was bad at all.
Wesley saw my doubtful glance downwards.
“No, seriously,” he said, “Just lower yourself like so, and then drop.” He made motions in the air that apparently I was supposed to understand and follow.
Fear gripped me as I scooted closer to the edge, and then started to lower…nope, there was no way I could do that. Well, maybe if I just…
Wesley and I heard shots, and he rounded the corner of the balcony below and started shooting. I froze and adjusted my position.
“Are they coming?” I asked, “because I could just lie up here and shoot.”
Same old lame excuse.
“Just get down, Karis!” I don’t know if I’ve heard a tone be quite so impatient…and patient at the same time. Wesley continued to look up at me.
“You got this,” he said.
I definitely did not have this. If I “had it,” I would have jumped long ago. If I lived in an action movie, I would have jumped not just long ago, but with the grace of a cat. In fact, if I were a cat…
I heard shots from the ground to the left, and turned my head in that direction. I saw nothing there, so I started to do a three-hundred-sixty degree survey of my surroundings.
That was when I saw one of my enemy teammates walking the flat spot on the roof not too far behind me. Apparently, he had been creeping and neither Wesley nor I had noticed.
In fact, Wesley and I were the only two on our team still in.
I guess I can take partial credit for that, seeing as I was so hesitant to jump, right?
To make matters worse, at that moment Wesley decided to fall and severely roll his ankle. Apparently he was standing on a bench and then fell, well, off of the bench. One moment, he was fine, shooting off into the who-knows-where. Next moment, he was not. When I turned back to him, Wesley was just lying there, groaning in pain.
“Are you good, Wesley?” I called to him.
“Not really,” he grunted.
Well, at least he wasn’t in danger of being shot down there under good cover. Which is why I should have jumped to the balcony in the first place.
I turned back to the enemy (Dakota) and shouted up to him: “Can you just shoot me and get it over with?”
Dakota grinned and started towards me. At the same time, another of my enemies began to shoot at me from another side of the roof.
This revived my fighting spirits and I got low and began to shoot back at him.
Dakota retreated.
Did I mention that I’m a terrible shot?
Needless to say, between the threatening presence of Dakota behind me, the sniper gunning me down, and my own instability on a roof…I was hit.
Almost relieved, I stood up and took a deep breath. Now that I had been killed and Wesley was out of commission, the airsoft game was practically over.
I had only one problem left to deal with: How was I going to get off of the roof?
You probably don’t want to hear about the whimpering in my voice, the sliding of my shoes against the metal roof, the thumping of my heart, or the amount of coaching that it took for my “enemies” to help me get down off of that roof.
I got down a different way, of course. I never took that jump to the balcony.
Although now, looking back, I kind of wish I had.
Maybe I should go back up there and try it again sometime. Maybe I should climb all over the roof every day until I am good at it. Maybe I should conquer my own fears and do The Drop.
Maybe I should…
---Karis Anne
April 30, 2024
Catholicism VS Protestantism: A Blog Series
Today I finished watching this invigorating debate between British Catholic George Farmer and Protestant Allie Beth Stuckey. And wow, what a debate! I always love a good discussion and this by far was the best I’ve ever seen. Every minute was worth it. I walked away with a clearer understanding of Catholicism and a stronger faith in Protestantism. Just as importantly, I walked away with more confidence in how to address Catholicism in my own life.
I’m surrounded by wonderful, kind, loving Catholics here in Kansas who I love, respect, and believe have a saving faith and love for Christ. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t hold deep issues with the Roman Catholic church. And those are issues I feel called to address, because as I Christian I am called to be able to articulate what I believe about Christ’s Sacrifice for me, and why I believe it. Last summer I debated three Catholic teens on an online forum, specifically on issues like praying to the saints, the immaculate heart of Mary, and the rosary/the sacraments. We didn’t get anywhere, and I, quite frankly, was dissatisfied with my side of the argument. It wasn’t that I don’t firmly stand beside what I said then. I do. It’s that I’m not pleased with how I presented it.
I wasn’t rude, and I didn’t disrespect them or their beliefs, but I came to the table with a very basic understanding of the Roman Catholic Church and a handful of misconceptions besides. I wish I had been more equipped and I wish I had been able to offer them more to think about and consider.
I’ve long struggled with the issues I see in Catholicism, but I didn’t understand all of the nuances of the Roman Catholic Church. So, I naturally started to research. I read a long email discussion between two friends, one of which was and is a Protestant, the other a former Protestant who converted to Catholicism. I read debates, I watched debates, I read Catholic articles and I read Protestant articles.
In scouring the internet I came across a lot of arrogance and misconceptions on both sides, but all together, I’m pleased to say that I now have what I think is a fair understanding of Catholicism and its teachings. I don’t pretend to know or understand all of their Traditions, feasts, and practices, but I do think I have a good grasp on the main components of the Catholic faith.
Overall, I’ve found this whole deep dive fascinating. There’s a lot about Catholicism I didn’t previously know, and a lot of the Protestants in my life don’t know about it either. I think that if we all, Catholics and Protestants, spent some time really digging into what the other party believes, we’d come to a new understanding.
But I don’t think we’d necessarily come to an agreement.
I think the Roman Catholic Church has a twisted view of salvation; one that invokes fear, confusion, inconsistencies, and unrepented sin. Infant baptism, the process of losing your faith through “mortal” sin, and the practice of confession, I believe undermine and disrespect the beauty of Christ’s sacrifice and love for us.
But there’s a lot more to it than that, and that’s why I’m starting this blog series discussing Catholicism and Protestantism.
I think this is worth a good discussion.
Watch the first part of the Farmer-Stuckey debate here .
April 19, 2024
The Living Dead All Around Me
Photo credit to Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash.
So often I’m filled with frustration at the people living around me.
And to be honest, it doesn’t have as much to do with the flagrant, worldly sinners as the lukewarm, half-hearted Christians.
LGBTQ+ banners and violent liberal signs don’t rile me up. But the petty and wasteful declarations from the Christians in my life do.
Sometimes I look around at the people worshiping God alongside me and I’m filled with what I hope and pray is a righteous anger. A lot of them don’t even smile. Some of them look bored. Some of them look like they’d rather be anywhere else. Some of them aren’t even pretending to try.
These people who have been called to live are dead.
I feel like I'm surrounded by people who rightly fit the old term "the living dead".
My dear, wonderful friends, you were called to be alive. To laugh. To smile. To be untouched by the world. To be whole and healed. To be overflowing with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control!
You were called to an exquisite existence as a beloved child of God, redeemed, forgiven, adored by the wonderful Abba, your Heavenly Father. He has offered you an eternal paradise filled with things beyond your wildest dreams. He has given you His life through His death. He has given you His love.
So why is it that all you care about is posting pics of your lavish trips? Of playing video games? Of building your social media following? Of hanging out with friends?
I’m guilty of this too. I’m forever forgetting the most important things and becoming wrapped up in the worthless things of this mortal life.
But here’s the thing, and I say this to the Christians in the room, not the unbelievers:
We should all know better.
We look no different than the sinful world around us. We take every easy, comfortable avenue. We lend our voices to the worthless internet noise screaming for this weapon of Satan called “Tolerance”.
The world around us doesn’t know better.
But we should.
God calls you to be all in with Him, not with one foot in, one foot out.
You weren’t meant to traipse through the shallows. You were meant to be swallowed by the sea.
If you aren’t all in, then you’ll lose yourself altogether.
Christ says that it’s impossible to follow Him and love the world. Unless you take up your cross and follow him, forsaking your possessions, your family, your dreams, yourself, you can’t be his disciple.
Throw yourself into the waves of Christ’s Life and let yourself be carried away.
Nothing else matters.
April 12, 2024
Autumn Grace On George MacDonald
By William Jeffrey (1826-1877) - http://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw04113/George-MacDonald , Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=35400888
Today I'm honored and delighted to introduce a piece from my dear friend Autumn Grace, the mind behind the historical and artistic blog Shades of Art. Autumn is an avid reader and a history buff who spends her time spinning adventurous tales for her siblings and writing about artists from the past. She is passionate about writing about people's heroes, and per my request, did me the honor of writing about my personal hero, George MacDonald. Shades of Art is one of my favorite blogs to read and I hope you'll take the time to check it out.
George MacDonald has certainly left his mark on our world. While some of his talents include teaching, preaching and public speaking, he is best known for his skills as a writer. His were some of the first books of the time period that ushered in the world of fantasy. While this genre—fantasy—is certainly common today, it was not so during MacDonald’s life. The normal books in his time were the Bible, devotional or theological books and Pilgrim’s Progress. (Any fantastical books written for children at that time were usually accompanied by a grim and sometimes horrifying moral.) George MacDonald, however, changed much of this when he helped to usher in the fantastical style of writing—as Beethoven did with the Romantic style of music. The author's greatest works have influenced many generations of authors, including J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, G. K. Chesterton and E. G. Runyan.
But how did MacDonald’s life prepare him to write the stories that he did? How did it influence his content and his style? Read on.
George MacDonald was born in 1824 in Huntly, Aberdeenshire, Scotland. When he was eight years old, his mother died and his father and uncle began taking care of him. The two men absolutely loved stories and they weren’t the only ones. The whole Scottish culture that MacDonald lived in celebrated fairy tales and myths. This strong background is undoubtedly what led him to write his fascinating and sometimes eerie novels, ones of heroes and princesses and underground goblin kingdoms.
While MacDonald was being taught the intriguing stories of his people, he was also being taught their strict Calvinist faith. These Christians believed that love of art and music could easily tempt one to follow other passions, pulling one away from God. Following this kind of faith, George’s grandmother was even known for burning her son’s violin when she found out he loved music. Upon reading some of MacDonald’s work, it is easy to wonder if his writing is a small rebellion against the things that he had been taught.
When George MacDonald was finally ready to go to college, he headed off to Aberdeen in North East Scotland. Surprisingly enough, he wanted to study science. However, when he didn’t have enough money for his tuition, he went to London instead and became a tutor. It was there that he was encouraged to join a seminary.
In 1848, he attended Highbury Theological College. Around that time, he also began to listen to A. J. Scott who strongly encouraged the importance of storytelling. MacDonald decided ultimately that he wanted to be an author. In the meantime, however, he began preaching at a little parish in Arundel, England.
In 1851, he married Lousia Powell. The two had a very strong, passionate marriage and, the very next year after their marriage, began their family of eleven children. During the time that George MacDonald was a preacher at his church, he began sharing some controversial ideas and his salary was lowered. Finally, he didn’t have enough to support his growing family and resigned the job. It was time to write.
In 1855, he published his first work called Within and Without. This was just a romantic poem, though and not one of the weird epics for which he is known. Finally, in 1858, he published Phantastes, beginning his string of strange stories that haunt and inspire readers. Phantastes even worked wonders on a very famous young man’s imagination many years later. This man was C. S. Lewis. In Surprised by Joy, he chronicles how much Phantastes changed his life and his imagination.
This book Phantastes was very strange, however, and many of his readers could not connect with it. So, George MacDonald turned back to writing realistic fiction, turning out almost thirty of these types of books. He had made the decision to write these books because they sold better and he had a family to support. His strange, haunting tales were far from over, however. He just had to wait until his children were old enough to support themselves.
While MacDonald’s children were still growing up, they fell in love with Lewis Caroll whom they called “Uncle Dodgson.” (Lewis Caroll’s real name was Charles Dodgson.) In fact, Charles Dodgson tested out his book Alice’s Adventures Under Ground on the MacDonald children. They loved it and, in 1865, he published it under the changed name of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
When his children (apparently influential little human beings themselves) grew up, George MacDonald turned back to writing his strange and intriguing works. He started out with Lilith. (1895) He continued to write these sorts of works, including The Golden Key (1867), At the Back of the North Wind (1871), The Princess and the Goblin (1872) and The Princess and Curdie, its sequel. (1882).
George MacDonald battled a lung illness for much of his life and, after a particularly long illness, the great author died in 1905. He lives one, though, influencing countless authors, all of whom have their own story to tell, but draw heavily from this great man. There would have been no The Lord of the Rings, there would have been no The Chronicles of Narnia. There would have been no The Hobbit and there would have been no Loch Monster. ;)
Bibliography:
Carlson, Jenna Brooke. “10 Things You Need to Know about George MacDonald.” christianity.com . Christianity.com , 7 April 2022. Web. 40 March 2024.
Larsen, Timothy. “Why George MacDonald Matters.” marinaliareview.com . Marginalia, 15 January, 2021. Web. 30 March 2024.
Rodgers, Mark. “Kickstarting Phantastes: The Book the Baptized C. S. Lewis’ Imagination.” claphmgroup.com . The Clapham Group. N.D. Web. 30 March 2024.
Make sure to check out Shades of Art for more of Autumn Grace's informative historical content! You can sign up on her blog page to receive weekly notifications when she posts to the site.
