Today has been fairly uneventful, as days go. Were I to write an autobiography, I’m fairly sure April 5th, 2013 wouldn’t feature in the catalog of my life’s significant events. However, it’s been a very pleasant day, and that’s worth noting in its own right.
I’m currently sitting on the Harding lawn, basking in the breezy warmth of an April day that (finally!) feels like spring. I can smell the blooming sweetness of the new-flowering trees, and the sky’s cool blue is tempting me to hope for the rain’s permanent departure.
We’ve been looking at a Jim Carrey movie called The Truman Show as an example of film as literature in my English studies class, and this morning we watched the ending. I’m decidedly not a Jim Carrey fan, but he’s done a surprisingly great job as Truman, the unwitting star of a television show centered around his life. For the last twenty-nine years cameras have captured literally his every move, unbeknownst to him-- until now. (Spoiler alert... I can’t resist!) After fighting with uncharacteristic determination through a storm at sea (orchestrated by the show’s director, of course), he sails straight into a wall-- the painted backdrop of the show’s enormous set.
Truman abruptly breaks down. He reaches out and touches the sky of his world, the sky that was never actually the sky, and, back turned to the camera, begins beating hopelessly against the wall, trying to knock through it. That image just struck me-- in this despairing realization, we as an audience don’t get to see Truman’s face. He finally gets a moment of true emotion to himself, privately, without the whole world ogling him. I’m not sure why it touched me so strongly, but it did. I teared up a little right there in class.
On my way back to the dorm, I saw the fattest squirrel I’ve ever seen.
If you’ve ever visited Harding, odds are you know about the squirrels. There may be more squirrels here than students, and most of them are pretty chunky. After all, they’re consistently fed by 8,000 college students, so for this squirrel to be deemed the absolute fattest one ever to cross my line of vision is a serious testament to his mad food-finding skills. I had to chuckle at his chubbiness.
We’ve sung the song “Daniel, Daniel” about a hundred times in Concert Choir before (or at least that’s how it seems), but today Dr. Neill asked us to think about the words as if we’d never heard them before. It’s about Daniel in the lions’ den, which most of us relegate to kindergarten Bible classes (...guilty). This morning, though, I actually bothered to stop and think about what a crazy, unbelievable story that is, and how much I personally tend to gloss over the amazingness. I mean, most of the time, we go, “Yeah, yeah. Daniel and the Lion’s Den. I know that one.”
As if to say, “Yeah, the one where the guy doesn’t get eaten by ferocious, ravenously hungry lions even though he spends an entire night in an inescapable pit with them. Old news.”
What?!? I am thankful for days that bring reality and perspective to God’s Word.
Because even Brit Lit professors can’t escape the beckoning call of today’s glorious weather, I spent that class on Midnight Oil’s porch, discussing Wilfred Owens and T. S. Eliot. I have an ashamed English Major confession to make-- “The Waste Land” makes no sense to me, and consequently I found myself taking in the atmosphere more than obscure literary allusions. A little orange tabby cat slunk its way across the lawn next to the porch, catching my eye. I know a stray cat at home, a friendly companion for walks around the neighborhood, so the sight made me smile.
I haven’t bored you with random details of my day in quite some time, as I usually don’t consider them blogworthy. Today, though, I am struck by the fact that humans are incredibly impressionable things. Beauty and humor, music and art, touch us in ways we can’t quite comprehend, though the impact is definite. I'm so fascinated by the way aesthetic experience, for whatever reason, deeply affects our emotional worlds. Even more, though, I see intense care and attention God gives to my life. Like a master artist, He paints a breathtaking picture of salvation, grace, and mercy... but doesn’t neglect the little details like squirrels and tabby cats.
Underneath all the stuff that actually matters, life is still beautiful in its little insignificances.
Isn't life swell?
