Page 15 of Authentically, Izzy
Chapter3
***
Heart-to-Heart
Date: March3
Brodie,
Do I enjoy other books besides Tolkien? Does Charles Dickens love commas?
As Louisa May Alcott said, “She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain.” I’m afraid my cousin Josephine would agree. But I believe books have only served to turn my brain in a direction of constant wonder, appreciation, and imagination. You see, I’ve never traveled very far from home. The thought of flying terrifies me. But books have provided me continual journeys and adventures that my bank account could never finance. Besides my faith, stories became the catalyst to draw me out of the heartache and lostness I felt from my parents’ deaths when I was twelve. They loved books, and somehow I felt them near me when I opened the cover to another new story, as if they journeyed alongside me. As false as the Mirror of Erised, I know, but the idea brought, and continues to bring, a special kind of comfort that nothing else has. I don’t know if you can genetically acquire a love for books, but if so, I was doubly impacted. That should give you fair warning enough, but I have more.
Of course, I love nature too. I find in it (as so many authors describe much better than me) a remarkable and changing beauty, an ability to reset my perspective, and a reminder of a plan much bigger than my own. Though I tend to enjoy it more from a window, a car, or a front porch, at least once a week I venture out ofmy “reclusive” cave and breathe in the free air of a hike and the all-encompassing awareness of not being alone in the world.
Anne Frank, a very nonfiction person, captures it best, I think:
“The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quite alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature.”
Doesn’t she say it so well? I feel certain my dear cousin Josie could benefit from recognizing the grandness of God’s plan in His children’s lives, instead of feeling compelled to dramatically and too frequently intervene in the lives of others who are mostly content. How can I feel alone for too long when there is such a world!!
Stories have been powerful agents in my heart my whole life. Yes, I’m an introvert. My cousin might even refer to me as a recluse, but that’s an exaggeration. I just find that the world and wonder of fiction provide ample imagination for a large portion of my life. Yes, I love being with my family (most of the time, but as with all family dynamics, some occasions and conversations are happier than others), but I amnota fan of my cousin’s constant matchmaking schemes because, besides being an incredibly uncomfortable experience, they always seem to prove my cousin’s thorough misunderstanding of who I am.
For example, she’s not chosen one man, in all of her attempts, who is bookish in the least little bit. Not one can discuss the depths of human depravity shown inFrankenstein, or the excellence of Jane Eyre’s upright and determined spirit, or the power of friendship on full display in The Lord of the Rings books.
I thought, perhaps, when she’d matched me with a youth pastor from a neighboring town, that I’d at least have someone with which to discuss thoughtful theology and the beautiful way in which God, creation, and love are displayed in fiction (both in written form andcinematically), but no, the poor man insisted on discussing politics, and not justanyform of politics, butchurchpolitics. Clearly, there was some latent hostility rising from his previous church position, which made it perfectly clear this man was not for me.
I recognize my romantic history is a patchwork of mismatches and ill-fated decisions, which may lead my cousin to intervene, but I can assure you that if I’d known Dean only wanted help with passing his literature courses and he-who-left-me-at-the-altar only wanted a position with Uncle Herman’s business instead of a lifelong commitment, I would have chosen differently.
Despite my family’s usual disagreement (except for Luke and Penelope), I find, in fiction, remarkably accurate portrayals of the human heart, for good or ill. I learn and grow from what I read. I see in myself the pride of Lizzie Bennet, the misperceptions of Anne Shirley, the arrogance of Dorian Gray... and seek grace to become a better person without the same heartaches.
So, there you have it. If anyone in the grand, wide world is going to build a friendship with me, they must understand that they share my attention with hundreds of books, thousands of fictional people, a dog named Samwise (who is much more social than his owner), a love for nature, a devout faith, and a deep, though faltering, desire to become a better human in the small part of the world where I’ve been placed.
Oh, and I also speak in quotes much too often for anyone’s benefit but my own.
So, quite appropriately, I end with a quote by the effervescent Mr.Disney: “There is more treasure in books than in all the pirates’ loot on Treasure Island.” And to this I add that I believe the best friendships hold as true a treasure as the greatest books—so only imagine how perfect the combination of both could be?
Authentically,
Izzy
PS: There you have it, Josie. Everything I’ve wanted to say to you for years in one rather succinct note. If you are going to continue with this matchmaking barrage, you might as well get a better understanding of whom you’re matching.
PPS: And for the six-hundredth time, I do not like pistachios. The word is fabulous but not the taste.
PPPS: My Anne Frank quote was much better than your Keats.
From: Izzy Edgewood
To: Penelope Edgewood, Luke Edgewood
Date: March3
Subject: Izzy the Valiant
Penelope & Luke,
There! I’ve done it. And, surprisingly, I’m not sorry in the least little bit. I feel justified and relieved and powerful in some kind of strange way.
