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Posts Tagged ‘sisters’

You know the word “ford,” right?  Not the pick-up truck.  As in a river.  It’s the shallow area where one can safely cross a river.  To have a ford, you need a river.  A river is a depression in which water flows.  So you need a depression, and water, and then you need the shallows.  Read on. 
 
My oldest younger brother moved out last month, into a condo.  Tonight for the first time I got to see it with furniture in it.  Well, furniture and boxes and a general mess upstairs.  He managed to fill the entire place remarkably well.  So my visiting sister and I helped unpack for a while.  He has a skylight, on which our majorest Autumn Rain of the season was pattering peacefully. 
 
After an hour and a half of organizing and throwing things away, we decided we were hungry.  So we piled into my brother’s little white car that, due to a belt problem, squeals wildly whenever he shifts from reverse to drive.  The rain still came down, and when we got to KFC for their $3.99 colonel strips deal, there was a miniature river glimmering in the parking lot lights.  So our good brother dropped us off at the door.  My sister and I, we were wearing shoes not made for wading.  We wouldn’t even walk through the wet grass.  So we were grateful. 
 

Our brother’s renter met us there a little after 9 o’clock, and after my brother prayed, “Thanks for the chicken,” we finished our meal.  The employees swept and stacked chairs on tables around us, even though they close at ten.  Anyway, we were ready to leave and the rain had let up so my sister and I thought we could jump the smaller river.  We stood on the edge, and judged.  I teased that my good brother might carry us over, or lay down his hoodie for us.  There was no jumping.  We would splash water all over our poor feet.  So we moved upstream to search for a ford.    

Which is when my brother decided to be the ford.  He put his two well-shoed feet in the water, and we stepped one foot at a time across the current.  It was a marvelous adventure, and we were quite dry.  Heroe brother to the rescue! 
 
The only time we were really wet was when we got into my car to go back to our house.  My car leaks.  See, when I got it several years ago the windshield was cracked.  And the dealer promised replacement as a condition of sale.  So he sent his pathetic contract crew to do it.  They didn’t come, and then they came the wrong time, and then they came with the wrong windshield so they came the next day with the right one.  And finally I had a windshield, but my confidence was duly shaken.  And as soon as it rained I realized I was justified.  My windshield leaks at the seams.  Maybe my car leaks in other ways, too.  In fact I know it leaks through the rubber seal around the door on the passenger side, and it might leak through the sunroof, too (yes, even when it’s closed).  So my seat was wet, and the dashboard dripped on my sister’s foot. 
 
Safe and dry now, we’re at home.  My parents were asleep early, the house dark at the remarkably early hour of 10:30.  And I trust my brother is safe, even though he was going to investigate several police cars with flashing lights near his condo.  It’s a nightly occurrence there.  He and his roommate need prayer for safety and that their neighborhood will be influenced with the gospel.  It can happen. 
 
To God be all glory,
Lisa of Longbourn

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My oldest younger sister’s birthday was last week, but my dad was in Texas (of all places in this heat!) on business, unexpectedly there a week longer than planned.  So she made the decision to put off her celebration until he got back.  We left the presents in our living room, wrapped and ready, with a mylar balloon and everything (good thing they’re long lasting!).  If you could see our living room, you would feel the oppression of the reduced space. 
 
Last night my dad finally got home, and so today we celebrated.  And we were informed by the birthday girl, with some indignation at our lack of memory, that today is the day my sister was due to be born, though she had the presumption to arrive over a week early.  So instead of Happy Birthday, our greetings are: “Happy Due Date Day.”  Say it.  The phrase is rather fun. 
 
Since I’m all about extra reasons for celebration, I thought that I might take up the custom.  There should be some special happening on one’s Due Date Day, don’t you think? 
 
On a side note, my sister has the smallest room in our house.  She has filled it with furniture and shoes, including a bunk bed not of twin size, but full.  Imagine our bewilderment when one of her requests on her birthday wish list was a couch.  Indeed.  A couch.  And while I was at camp, she actually got one.  She removed the matress from her bottom bunk and maneuvered a couch beneath the top bunk, so she has her own little loft apartment in there, now complete with a refrigerator as well as a TV and a laptop.  Her genius for maximizing space is incredible. 
 
To God be all glory,
Lisa of Longbourn

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During Jane Austen Season on Masterpiece Theater this winter I decided to skip hassling my parents to record on the week when the biopic Miss Austen Regrets was on.  If it was like any other biography, it would be very dull.  If it was like the other movies, it would be very silly.  If it was like Becoming Jane, it would be annoying.  Unfortunately, as soon as my chances of viewing it were past, all the Austen fan sites came alive with gentle praise for the movie, and I regretted missing it. 
 
Finally the copy of Sense and Sensibility came from the library, its featured chapter being the hour and a half long Miss Austen Regrets, a wonderful film (immodest women, if that bothers you, which it does me – no brothers allowed) about Jane Austen’s views on love and marriage, mostly centering on her advice to Fanny, her niece.  It made me think.  I watched it on my anniversary, actually, and at first I thought it was rather the wrong choice for that, but then it was such a message of trusting God to do with your life what He wills, even if it isn’t marriage – but retaining a high value of marriage that I am reconciled to the decision. 
 
Not being a scholar of Jane Austen’s life, I am without criticism of the movie’s portrayal of her timeline, words, and actions.  I never thought of her as being so flirtatious, but that is because I prefer, like Elizabeth Bennett, to imagine that the people I admire share my values and convictions and that their faults, which all people must be admitted to have, are never those which expose a good understanding to ridicule.  I enjoyed the movie very much, especially the parts where Jane was writing Persuasion.  The makers of this movie, at least, understood that story. 
 
Cassandra’s relationship with her beloved witty sister the author is a fascination to me, and I am always willing to know more of it.  One thing brought up by the movie, however, was her brothers.  Jane Austen (and Cassandra, of course) had six brothers who played important roles in their lives.  Yet the only book Jane wrote where there was any substantial brother role was Mansfield Park, and though his character moves the story when it appears, and though he is dear and inspiring to his sister Fanny, he is really not all that central to the plot.  So I wondered why Jane Austen so rarely wrote about what she knew so well: the relationship of brothers and sisters. 
 
Do you ever wonder if Jane wrote Pride and Prejudice about herself and Cassandra – and her namesake was really the better representation?  Oh, I suppose outspoken and satirical Jane could never be the quiet and tender Miss Bennett.  Perhaps she really would have preferred marriage to Mr. Bingley for herself, though.  I agree with Miss Austen Regrets, that Mr. Darcy would not have done for Jane Austen (just as I imagine he would not have done for me, though like all good fans, I adore him). 
 
So now I’m back to reading the Annotated Pride and Prejudice, reveling actually in the comparative necessary openness of the written story as opposed to the famed 1995 Pride and Prejudice that got to so subtly show the change in the hero and heroine.  It is so relaxing to ponder what one reads, if it is a good piece of literature.  And who that has read Pride and Prejudice could argue that point? 
 
To God be all glory,
Lisa of Longbourn

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