Romance?
I love romance.
When I am not careful, I am in love with the mere idea of being in love.
The woman I love, however, the Fairest Flower in Christendom, is stuck with my inability to articulate what I think. When she walks into a room, there are many things I should say, but I end up saying: “I love you.” When she helps our children become happy and successful, I want to admire her genius properly, but I end up saying: “Great job.” When I look into her eyes, I know enough to reject calling them “twin pools,” but am never sure what to say.
How does one describe a feeling?
I have two secret weapons that have yet to fail me.
The first is Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. If my wife has a soul reincarnated, I am convinced it is the soul of Charlotte Bronte . . . if Charlotte Bronte had the soul of Jane Eyre. What does Jane Eyre teach me? First, the embarrassingly obvious point that women are human. Full stop. Fully human. No woman existsfor me. Every woman exists for God . . . just like every man. Second, every person needs choices, but women are often deprived of sweet liberty. Third, you can be in a horrible situation, but you must endure. Breaking God’s law is not an option: you keep calm and you carry on. Finally, Jane Eyre gives me the words to say: you, my dearest, were formed for love and not for service.
Less literary is the novel The Blue Castle by Anne of Green Gables author: Lucy Maud Montgomery. She is not Bronte. Bronte teaches me what the soul should know if the soul were already in Heaven while Montgomery teaches me what romance looks like on Earth. I aspire to be redeemed like Rochester, but I might be able to actually be as solid a normal guy as Barney Snaith, the “hero” of Blue Castle.
Blue Castle shows me that the crushed woman can, with love, become the most romantic of heroines. The woman who endures her loveless childhood has gained the steel framework that will allow her to fly higher than anyone else. All she needs is freedom. Blue Castle reminds me that being quirky is fine, but being weird is not. Love begins with the thinking of the beloved, not seeking to have my needs met.
I want to love the beloved like Jane loved Rochester: lawfully but with absolute romance.
Jane made a life without Rochester. She was always an independent woman, but she loved Rochester. Jane shows me how love sets free as it binds. My honor is bound and so my soul is free.
I want to help the beloved flourish like Barney helped Valancy.
There are deep wounds human love cannot heal, this is why we are thankful for the Divine, but thank God that He allows human love to heal so many human hurts. Barney Snaith teaches me the way to do so: love openly, without anger, without control, with joy.
You read enough Montgomery and you see that she started as a joyful pastor’s wife, a bit more loose than a stuffy society. You see her die as a woman fearful that the center was not holding and that joy had been replaced by immorality. She is always for liberty, but never for the libertine.
And so Montgomery teaches me that it is good to be good and that goodness is not the inability to be bad. The good man could go awry, it is the boor or the conformist who cannot imagine evil. The good man chooses to love God and his neighbor and so the good man is exciting without being dangerous.
As she said of another hero, the romantic is not evil, but could be. He is free and has chosen wisely.
I am no Bronte. I cannot even write like Montgomery. But the best of these times is that I can read Bronte, study Montgomery, and allow these wise women to change me and empower my beloved. These are the very best of romantic times.
My lessons are not yet learned: Bronte and Montgomery teach me still, but I owe them much. I owe them an education in life and in love and I am thankful.
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In