A C. S. Lewis-loving misfit who can’t play chess

Well that would be me.

(Should’ve put chess in my seven sevens “can’t do” list)

Not that I haven’t talked about myself enough lately or that anyone wants to read any more about moi, but this is a weblog after all so here it is:

Although motherhood forces me to multi-task, I still tend to focus rather narrowly on whatever I’m working on at the moment. Case in point: my 6-1/2-year-old beats me at chess. Really. Granted, he’s got more experience playing chess than I do, and I’ve got an aggravating habit of doing really stupid things like mistaking a king for a queen (it’s those cheap tiny plastic playing pieces, sheesh...okay, so I have a knack for missing the obvious!) But apparently he can assess the entire board better, as a general rule, than I can.

*Sigh.* With a capital “S.”

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I’ve been reading C. S. Lewis’ Letters to an American Lady and have been reminded of the reason I admire, respect and, okay, love Lewis so much. (It’s allright to say that, isn’t it?) In the letters, Lewis is so...nice, so sympathetic, so gracious. He always expresses concern for the lady’s well-being and comments on what she writes, speaking of his own concerns that may relate. He doesn’t ignore or posture either over what he doesn’t understand in her letters – he tells her of it, though ever so graciously and with a bit of wry, self-effacing wit. Lewis is wonderfully honest about human weakness, including his own, yet appears comfortable confessing his ordinary thoughts and feelings with not a shred of gossip nor manipulation nor excuse. Very refreshing! And very real.

I see “character battles” being waged by supporters of various prominent or historical theologians as though the theologian about whom the most nice things are said must be the most correct. Certainly, personal character is important, and we should all strive to eradicate our own sin. But don’t tell me that (insert your favorite theologian’s name here) never blew/blows his/her top or struggles/d with sinful attitude of some kind. It seems to me that humility about their own sin is more the mark of a saint than a supposedly perfect or near-perfect record (as related by supporters) is.

But back to Lewis. He maintained correspondence with Mary (among others) for ten years, through his relationship with Joy Davidman and right up until he was no longer able to correspond at all (about three months before his death). I found this record of their prolonged, genuine, and truly caring friendship most inspiring; his last few letters to her (one dictated to Walter Hooper) are very moving. This is the last:

The Kilns etc
30 Aug 63

Dear Mary
Thanks for yours of the 27. I am quite comfortable but very easily tired. B. B. [brother Warnie] is still away so I have all the mail to do. So you must expect my letters to be very few and very short. More of a wave of a hand than a letter.

Yours
Jack

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When I first found the blogosphere and started commenting and then blogging, I thought I had at last found a place where I “fit.” Well...though I’m not yet convinced that I was altogether wrong, I do wonder if I was right. I feel like Herbie in “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.” I belong to no specific blogging category whatsoever, only general ones: “Christian,” “pro-life,” and “woman blogger.” Otherwise I’m in the “doesn’t fit any other category” category. I’m not on the rolls of any of the current hot blogging “clubs.” As a writer I’m not so imaginative or profound. I hardly ever review books. I don’t write (much of any value, anyway) on theology. I barely blog anything political. I have a great interest in “intellectual” stuff but am not able to delve deeply enough nor understand well enough (nor muster an IQ high enough) to be a viable part of those conversations. Besides that, I’m not (yet?) Reformed. Woe is me!

I’m a homeschooler who blogs about homeschooling maybe 2% of the time. As a professional musician I blog music 0.5% of the time. I post photos but am not in the photoblog circle because my blog isn't exclusively a photoblog (my choice, I know). I’m a mom who hardly ever writes about “mommy” stuff. I love the outdoors and have an interest in science too, but big woop. There is no one particular thing that I write about with much substance except contraception and, um, never mind, and that doesn’t exactly win me friends either. Even my C. S. Lewis posts are not consistent nor academic enough to qualify for any C. S. Lewis clubs.

Well.

Maybe I’ll just wander north & look for elves who pull teeth, or choo-choos with square wheels, or water pistols that squirt jelly, or un-matched socks, or...