Matryoshka Dolls and Mother Legacies

Matryoshka dolls, or Russian nesting dolls, are hollow wooden figures fitting one within the other, the smaller into the larger, until the largest holds all the smaller ones. A few weeks ago my daughter presented me with a set of Matryoshka dolls which she had painted herself, each doll representing a generation of women in my family. The largest doll was my grandmother, within her my mother, then myself, then my daughter Mary, and within Mary, the tiniest one—the one representing the little baby girl Mary was currently carrying literally inside herself. 

As I gaze at these dolls now on my mantle, I think of the way each woman carried her child and then taught and modeled how to live. Every child is a part of the mother, and every mother forever holds the child within her heart. Each mother passes to her child that which she received from her own mother—a love of music, a knack for baking, or a great sense of fun.

In this particular line, each woman passed on values of hard work, love, and faith. But also, unusual for the earlier generations, each woman had advanced education, which she used to work outside the home throughout her life.

The largest doll represents my grandmother, Leah Holt, who was born in 1890 in the small Mormon village of Spanish Fork, Utah. At that time in Spanish Fork there was no public education beyond 8^thgrade, which seemed like plenty for the needs of the little farming community. But Leah was not ready to be done with learning, and her father agreed to send her to Provo to attend Brigham Young Academy. Around 1903, Leah moved to Provo to earn a degree in stenography, with skills in shorthand, typing, and bookkeeping. 

Later Leah put those skills to good use, first when she became one of the first lady missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,  serving as secretary to the Southern States Mission president, Charles A. Callis, who presided over 250 missionaries in 10 states. Later still, when her young husband died suddenly, she worked as a bookkeeper to support her two little girls, and later on her widowed mother and her orphaned niece and nephew. She not only supported her family, she contributed to her town through her work. By the time she retired as city clerk at 70, she knew everyone in town, and everyone in town knew and loved her.

The next smaller doll represents my mother, also named Leah. Though money was tight during the Depression, my grandmother made every sacrifice to assure that her girls would go to college. They also made the trek to Provo to attend Brigham Young University. Through hard work and taking summer school, Mom managed to complete her bachelor’s degree in only three years, with a double major in English and music, certified to teach kindergarten through twelfth grade. My mom used her degree to teach a year before marriage, then, when her youngest child (me) entered school, Mom eagerly returned to work. She taught first grade from then until retirement. Some of my favorite memories are hearing the black marker squeak as Mom carefully printed charts for the next day’s lessons.

So, for me, the middle-sized Russian doll in the set, going to college and preparing for a career just seemed normal. I earned a Master’s degree in English, and while my first child was still an infant, I started teaching part-time at the university and continued to teach while raising five children, until I retired as full-time faculty.

Inside of the Russian doll representing me, you would find my daughter, Mary, who, having all her life watched her mother grade papers and plan lessons, also took education and a career as a given. She completed a PhD and took a job teaching at a university with her husband’s full support. 

Now she has her own little daughter, the tiniest Matryoshka doll. 

But I’ve come to think we need one more doll—one to hold my Grandmother doll and all the others within her, one that has influenced the entire line. I have wondered: why did Leah Holt’s farmer father, Samuel Holt, make the sacrifice to invest in educating his daughter, at a time when women were expected not to need an education, to do no more than marry, have children, and work in the home and on the farm?

I believe the answer lies with Samuel’s step-mother, Vigdis Bjornsdottir Holt. Samuel’s mother died when he was only 5, and in 1861 his father married Vigdis, a recent immigrant from Iceland. Before coming to Utah, Vigdis had journeyed from Iceland to Copenhagen to be trained as a physician and a midwife. Once settled in Spanish Fork, she served the medical needs of hundreds of families. Even after her marriage, Vigdis continued to practice medicine. Whenever called, she would mount her horse, with her medical bag strapped behind her, and ride off to help, often without pay. The townspeople lovingly called her Aunt Wickie, and she was so well respected that the local doctor would call her in to consult on difficult cases. She continued practicing until she was over 80.

I believe Samuel Holt saw in his step-mother the way education can prepare a woman to be not only an exemplary mother and homemaker, but also to serve others outside the home. That understanding led Samuel to support his young daughter Leah in getting advanced education, which led Leah to sacrifice so her daughter could attend university, which led my mother to support me in my advanced degrees, and led me to support my daughter in hers.

Which brings us back to that tiniest Matryoshka doll, who has now arrived, and whom I have nestled in my arms, wondering what lies in store for her. I feel the legacy of education, motherhood, and career-service will continue for her. After all, her name includes that of our original example, the beginning of our family legacy: Vigdis.  

The Great American Political Divide (and One Way to Come Together)

Participants of Utah's First Red Blue Workshop 

“Anyone who supports Trump must be stupid. Trump is a despicable person, an embarrassment to the country, and anyone who endorses him is not worthy of respect!”

 “We are in a war of good vs. evil, and those liberal Democrats are evil, attacking good family values!”

If you’ve seen comments like this on your social media, then you will not be surprised to hear that we have a wide and often vitriolic political divide in this country. The Pew Research Center reports that the gap on political values is more than twice as wide as in 1994 (15% compared to 36%) and that around 45% of each party view the opposite party unfavorably. Indeed, many believe that the opposing party is not only wrong but dangerous.

In such a climate of opposition, is it any wonder that Congress has trouble passing legislation? If we won’t even listen to each other, how can we solve the problems of our country? 

I wrote about the problem as I saw it last May, and ended the post with a mention of a Better Angels Workshop I planned to help organize. Now I want to tell you about what happened in that workshop.

First, a little bit about the Better Angels organization. After the 2016 election, a couple of friends belonging to opposite political parties decided the country would benefit from a better understanding of those with differing political opinions. From this desire grew a bipartisan non-profit citizens’ movement called Better Angels. The name borrows from Abraham Lincoln’s First Inaugural Address: 

“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory…will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.” (Abraham Lincoln, 1861, First Inaugural Address)

Better Angels works to bring Red and Blue Americans together to have respectful and civil civic conversations. Rather than attempt to change the other sides' mind, participants work to1)understand the other side’s point of view,  2) look for common ground and ways to work together, and 3) support principles that bring us together rather than divide us. 

On a Saturday in July, eighteen people gathered in Provo for Utah’s first Better Angels Workshop. Participants included two trained moderators, six Blues (on the leaning liberal or Democratic spectrum), six Reds (on the leaning conservative or Republican spectrum),and several observers. The workshops always invite an equal number of each side, so that one viewpoint does not dominate the others. We sat around a table –Red, Blue, Red, Blue. I (a straight Mormon Republican woman) sat between a gay man on one side and a transgender woman on the other. And you know what? I enjoyed getting to know them.

The activities of the workshop were carefully planned to allow us to learn about each other. First, we divided into our teams and addressed stereotypes we felt the other side had about us, examining why the stereotypes were wrong and any kernels of truth within them. This got hard feelings on the table and out of the way, and helped us realize how stereotypes are harmful to discussion. This was followed with both sides sharing why they believe their side’s values and positions are best for our country. Then we had an opportunity to ask each other sincere "curiosity questions."

Reflecting on the experience, one participant stated, “I learned that not all conservatives are fascists.”  Another said, “I was really touched to hear the Blue side speak of our Constitution with such reverence.”  Several spoke of wanting to listen better to those with differing political perspectives. One summed up our feelings, “I feel cautiously optimistic about the future of the country.”

So that is what happened at the first Better Angels workshop in Utah. 

Are you intrigued by the possibilities for understanding and progress? Do you wonder what you can do to improve our political climate?  

For one thing, you could check out Better Angels. Consider joining; you will be connected with others in our state who are working to combat polarization.

But even if you don’t do that, try reaching out to those who differ from you politically. Here are some ideas:

·      Try not to pre-judge. 

·      Listen to each other. 

·      Seek to understand reasons behind beliefs.

·      Find areas of agreement.

·      Look for ways to work together for the good of the community and the country.

Disagreeing is not the problem. We need to have different ideas of what is good for the community and the country. That is what it means to be a democracy. Disagreement is built into the Constitution, the two-party system, and our legislative process. 

The problem comes when we assume the other side is irrational and evil. If we believe that, we cannot work toward good policies that benefit the entire country. 

Instead, let us realize that even if we disagree, we are not enemies. Let us listen to each other and to the “better angels of our nature," putting the needs of our country first.

Why We Had Children

Americans are having fewer babies. We’re down 3 percent from 2016, the largest single year decline since 2010.  The “replacement” birthrate would be 2.1; we are now at 1.76, well below replacement. Since this may lead to an aging population and a dearth of young workers, it is important news.

The New York Times wanted to know why the birth rate is low, and so they polled young people.  (https://www.nytimes.com/2018/07/05/upshot/americans-are-having-fewer-babies-they-told-us-why.html). Here are the top reasons they found: 

1. Wanting more leisure time and personal freedom 
2.  Not having a partner yet 
3.  Not being able to afford child-care costs 

Reading the article made me start thinking. 

Why did Paul and I choose to have babies? And then, for goodness sake, why did we go on to have five of them?

For one thing, back when we were having babies, it was just what you did when you fell in love and got married. There was even a rhyme about it that I chanted while jump-roping: “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Betty Ann with a baby carriage.” Or Susie or Debbie or Mary Jane. 

We all expected to have children. That is what you did. I remember having my pre-marital physical and the doctor bringing up birth control. I said, “Oh, we’re ready to have children. I’m not worried about it.”

So we weren’t surprised when, a few months after marriage, we found we had started a baby. We were thrilled!

We didn’t think about loss of leisure time or personal freedom. We certainly didn’t think about child-care costs.

At the time our first child was born, neither of us had a paying job. We were living in Canada, without a work visa, where Paul was studying for his PhD. We lived in a one-bedroom apartment with borrowed furniture. Anna spent her first months in a borrowed baby basket, and then, when we moved, a cardboard box. Our parents helped us buy a few baby clothes and some cloth diapers. Having a baby did not seem to add to our expenses much at all, really, and we didn’t worry much about it.

At the time, I didn’t really think about why I wanted children either. But now, having read the NYT article, I am thinking. Here are thirteen reasons why I’m glad we had children.

1. 1. Because baby toes are the sweetest. But puppies are cute too, so let’s look at some other reasons.
2. 2. Because I’m glad I can look at my dad’s photo as a young man and see how my son looks just like him. Each of the five children share in my husband’s and my DNA, similar to us and yet different in wonderful and surprising ways.
3.  3. Because I have five favorite people in all the world that I would do anything for, and I believe they would do the same for me.
4. 4. Because I am a better person for having been a mother. In my young adult years, at the very time that humans are most likely to live selfishly, I was forced to put others’ needs before mine, to learn to sacrifice. 
5. 5. Because I was still able to build a satisfying and useful career while I was raising children. In fact, I think I was better at my job because I was a mother.
6. 6. Because raising children didn’t really cost a lot. We welcomed hand-me-downs, ate casseroles, and went camping for vacations. 
7. 7. Because I can’t think of a better way of using my free time than raising five people.
8. 8. Because I believe in investing in the future, and my children are my contribution to the future of the country and of the world. They work hard, they care, and they are making a difference for good. I can’t even imagine the loss to the world if they didn’t exist.
9. 9. Because, if we are to find solutions to the problems of climate change, pollution, cancer, poverty, and other problems yet unseen, it is our children and our children’s children who will find them. 
10. 10. Because my children are five uniquely different souls. I love learning more each year about  their particular talents and strengths, watching how those strengths play out in their lives. I am so glad I was able to be a part of their growth.
11. 11. Because my children have had their own children, with the same wonderful outcomes
12. 12. Because my parents chose to bear and raise me. I’m glad I’m alive. And I want to pay this gift forward.
13. 13. Because I am always stunned by the limitless potential of every human soul. 

I know that there are many reasons not to have a child, and everyone needs to make that decision personally. But I am glad that my husband and I made five decisions to welcome a child, a person, into the world and into our lives. 

Politics and Our Better Angels

Here I am at the State Convention. 

The other day the President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, Russell M. Nelson, met with NAACP president Derrick Johnson, and together they called on the world to “demonstrate greater civility, racial and ethnic harmony, and mutual respect” while eliminating “prejudice of all kinds.”

This call for civility was particularly powerful to me, because the same news cycle reported on a singular lack of civility within the Utah Republican Party. Signatures to get an important issue on the Primary ballot were evidently “lost” in the county clerk’s office before being counted.

Such shenanigans have come about as certain factions feel that their side is right, and because they are right anything is justified in order to win.

I saw this first hand as I served as a delegate to the Utah Republican Conventions, both at the county and state level. I was elected to this position one evening at the local school gym. My mandate was to represent my neighbors by thoroughly researching all the candidates running for office and then voting for the ones to represent the party on the November ballot. Accordingly, I reviewed websites, attended meet and greets, listened to debates, and talked personally to candidates on the phone. I made a spread sheet of all the candidates and compared their positions and qualifications. I came to the conventions ready to cast my vote for the candidates I felt were most qualified.

At the conventions, though, I found a rancor that did not fit with this simple mandate I felt. I heard people say, “I won’t vote for that candidate because he doesn’t support the caucus system.” Or “Sure, he’s a good man, but he’s just a RINO—Republican in Name Only.” Or "He can't represent our state, he not really a Utahn." Some people seemed to judge the candidates by the “side” they perceived them to be on rather than their qualifications for office.

At the state convention, 4,000 delegates gathered, some driving for hours from distant parts of the state. We were all ready to vote for the two offices before us: US senator and US congress (for various districts). Then we spent over two hours arguing over rules for the state party. The infighting among the leadership was vitriolic and clearly those in power feared a coups. Thousands of ordinary delegates did not understand the fuss, but we were subjected to their anger and name-calling nonetheless. 

Then there were problems with the voting clickers. And endless talks by candidates who would end up getting fewer than 10 votes. 

We didn’t finish the voting until after 7 pm, by which time many of the delegates had left, so the voting was not representative. The very purpose of the convention had been derailed by factionalism.

We can’t choose the best candidates if we are so caught up in factionalism that we don’t vet the candidates according to their fitness to serve. 

Orin Hatch, who has served as US Senator for over 40 years, put it this way in a recent op-ed piece in the Wall Street Journal:

I am more than the sum of my parts, and so is every American. Yet increasingly we sort each other into groups, making sweeping assumptions based on binary labels: Democrat or Republican, black or white, male or female. . . . Our tendency to use labels to box each other in is indicative of a much larger societal problem: the unleashing of identity politics. . . . If we allow [identity politics ]to metastasize, civility will cease, our national community will crumble , and the US will become a divided country of ideological ghettos. 

Ideas—not identity—should be the driving force of our politics. By restoring the primacy of ideas to public discourse, we can foster an environment that will allow democracy to thrive.

I’m glad I served as a Utah Republican Caucus Delegate. I’m glad I was able to learn about the candidates and cast an informed vote. 

But I am disgusted by the increasingly divisive nature of politics today—the anger between parties and within parties, between conservatives and liberals and between conservatives and ultra-conservatives.

Here is what I am going to do about it. 

Following the guidelines of the group Better Angels, my friend and I are going to host a group in which both sides of the political spectrum are equally represented. We will talk and we will listen and we will find ways we can work together to solve common problems. 

But more than that, every day I am going to listen to others. I am going to look for unbiased news sources, and lacking that, I will listen to all sides of the news so I can make my own decisions. I am going to check facts before I am outraged by them. I  am going to show respect for others. I am going to look for areas of agreement. I am going to try to find solutions rather than highlight problems.  I am going to try, as Abraham Lincoln urged in his first Inaugural Address, to be influenced by the “better angels of my nature.”

Mothers, The Country Bunny, and the Hardest Job Training Seminar I Know

Once in my job-life, I needed to pull together several professors of differing opinions to work together on a project. A colleague who was aware of my efforts calling and meeting and cajoling, asked, “How do you know how to do this?” 

Surprised by the question, I considered. “Well,” I responded, “it’s not all that different from putting together the carpool schedule each year.”

Though I didn’t often make the connection, my work as a mom in many ways prepared me for my work I was paid for.

Which brings me to one of my favorite Easter books. In The Country Bunny and the Golden Shoes (published in 1939) “a little country girl bunny with brown skin” aspires to be an Easter Bunny. In the story there are five Easter Bunnies, who must be “the kindest, the swiftest, and the wisest” of all the bunnies. When this little Cottontail tells of her dream, the rich white bunnies and the tall boy brown bunnies all laugh and tell her to “go back to the country and eat a carrot.” (Yes, in this picture book from the '30s, both racism and sexism are the foes of the little brown girl bunny.)

She is not deterred by prejudice, however, and simply says, “Wait and see!”

But something does seem to slow her down. “By and by she had a husband, and then one day, much to her surprise, there were twenty-one Cottontail babies to take care of.” Her detractors really laughed now: “Take care of [the babies] and leave Easter eggs to great big men bunnies like us.” Then, “they went away liking themselves very much.”

So Cottontail settles down to raising her twenty-one little ones. Now, the story skips over a lot of work here. That husband seems to be absent (maybe he was killed by Farmer MacGregor? Maybe he just hopped off to find greener grass?), and Cottontail is caring for those bunny babies as a single mom. 

Now remember, the Easter bunnies are chosen because they are kind, wise, and swift. Any mother know that Ms. Cottontail learns to be kind as she gets up in the night to feed her babies, as she rocks them to sleep even though she hasn’t slept herself in what seems like days, as she listens to their problems without (very often) complaining about her own. 

She learns to be swift as she runs from one emergency to another, as she hustles to cook meals and wash clothes and clean the house before the next meals need to be cooked and more clothes need washing and the house is a disaster again. 

She learns to be wise sorting out squabbles, managing limited funds and time, and learning what priorities to prioritize.

I can fill in the blanks, as can many of you, because of my own experience as a mom. I may not be the kindest or the wisest, and certainly not the swiftest, but I know I am a better person today,  because I have been a mother, trying my hardest to do what is best for my own little brood.

Holly Tree Richardson, a modern Ms. Cottontail, the mother of 25 (4 delivered the usual way; 21 adopted), explains this metamorphosis:

Being a mother has unquestionably shaped me into the woman I am today. Strong-willed and vocal? I learned that advocating for my children. . . compassion? Empathy? Speaking up for the underdog? Learning to drive a bus or octuple recipes? Efficiency and working as a team? Loving unconditionally? A multi-tasking ninja? A strong work ethic? All traits and attributes I have developed because I first became a mother. ("Mother's Can Relate to the Heart-Driven Life," Salt Lake Tribune, April 28, 2018)

But neither Ms. Cottontail nor Holly Richardson stopped at using her talents to serve her family.

Out little Cottontail mother knew that her babies wouldn’t and shouldn’t be babies forever, so as soon as they were old enough, she taught them the work of being adults. She says, “Now we are going to have some fun,” and two by two, she teaches all the bunnies important adult work: cleaning, cooking, washing, sewing, gardening, art, music, and literature. 

Here again, the book skips over the hard work of training the little ones: the patience when they burned the food and stained the clothes or ruined the floor by using the wrong cleaner, the chaos when they squabbled over why Flopsy got to paint pictures while Mopsy had to clean the toilet, the disappointment when they went off to gather daisies instead of mending the torn trousers. But somehow, in a feat of incredible management skill, Mother Cottontail does train her twenty-one children, and the bunnies not only learn to do the work well, but also to work as a team and to enjoy it. 

Then, her household running smoothly, her children well taught, Cottontail learns that there is a vacancy in the Easter Bunny profession. She gathers her family to go watch the job interviews, a little sad, thinking “now she was nothing but an old mother bunny and could only look on.” 

However, after watching all the big white rabbits and long-legged brown Jack rabbits show off their strength and speed, the big boss, Grandfather Rabbit (who has obviously learned a thing or two through parenting as well) notices our little brown Mother Cottontail. 

In the job interview, he asks about her parenting, recognizing how wise and kind she must be to have raised such a large family of good bunnies. All she must do is demonstrate her speed with a quick game of tag with the children, and the job is hers. Our little brown country girl bunny reaches her lifelong dream, but not the way she thought she would. Surprisingly, the mommy-track leads to the pinnacle of bunnydom, becoming the Easter Bunny.

Similarly, our modern Mother Cottontail, Holly Tree Richardson, became a political activist, and served in the Utah state legislature. She is now a columnist for a major newspaper, an active blogger, and works with a non-profit helping Rohinga refugees.

In my own dual career (mother and teacher), I started out teaching only one class a semester when my own bunnies were little, but as they grew I added more, and when they were grown, I worked full time administering a major writing program. In my work, I used the skills I had honed as a mother, including patience, grit, and laughter.

Though The Country Bunny is an Easter book, it’s really about mothers. I was not surprised to learn that, though the book was written by a man, the story is based on a tale told by Dubose’s mother. His mother knew, as all good mothers do, that moms are great not only because they help their children grow, but also because they grow as they help their children. Mothers are always learning as they are mothering, and because mothering is both hard and important, the skills they learn are some of the most important skills in the world.

And mothers, as they share those skills beyond their homes, will make the world better.

So happy Mother’s Day! Thanks, moms, for all you do for others. 

But also, remember you are enrolled in one of the most intensive job training seminars on earth. Kudos on all you are learning!

What’s Missing: A Wrinkle in Time, the Movie

The other night we went to see the new movie A Wrinkle in Time. I was eager to see it, because the book by Madeleine L’Engle has been a favorite since I first read it as a freshman in college. The movie was good—you should all go see it. It is warm and uplifting. Storm Reid as Meg Murray is pretty much perfect. Oprah Winfrey as Mrs. Which and Reese Witherspoon as Mrs. Whatsit are delightful.

But, leaving the theater, I felt something missing. So I went home and stayed up late rereading the book. I discovered what is, at the heart, missing from the movie: God.

If you haven’t read the book or seen the movie, here’s the basic plot: Meg’s scientist father has disappeared while doing top secret work. An eccentric trio of visitors from outer space appear; Meg, her precocious little brother Charles Wallace, and her friend Calvin go with them to rescue the father. They end up on the planet Camazotz, which has been taken over by the Darkness, by "It." The father is imprisoned there, and Charles Wallace is captured in the course of the adventure. Meg is able to rescue both her father and brother, and they all return to earth.

The movie follows the plot pretty closely. What it misses is the real reason Meg is able to complete the rescue.

In the book, we get the first indication of that power early on, when the three visitors – called Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Who, and Mrs. Which--take the children to the planet Uriel to explain the battle they are to enter. There they experience the transcendent beauty and peace of the place, where angelic creatures are singing “Sing unto the Lord a new song, and his praise from the end of the earth.”

Only after hearing God’s praise are the children allowed to see the Shadow “that was so terrible” that it “chill[ed] her with a fear that was beyond shuddering, beyond crying or screaming, beyond the possibility of comfort?”

Though neither is named directly, the power of light and the power of darkness are clearly God and Satan.

Mrs. Which explains the shadow is “Eevill. Itt iss thee Ppowers of Ddarrkknesss!” When the Mrses encourage the children by listing those who have fought against the shadow, the first warrior spoken of is Jesus, “The light [that] shineth in the darkness.”

On Camazotz, where the Shadow reigns, everyone is the same. “We are all happy because we are all alike.” Just as Satan’s plan was to force everyone to do his will, the Shadow allows for no agency.

None of these references is in the movie. It is out of fashion to believe in either God or Satan.

But in the book we get the clear contrast of the two great powers.

The Mrses are not just eccentric and powerful beings; they are “Angels!. . .Guardian angels! . . . Messengers of God!” When Calvin names the beings as such, at the time of greatest need, they immediately arrive to aid the children.

At this climax of the book (which is completely left out of the movie), in contrast to the mend-bending, mind-numbing power of the Shadow/Satan, these angels give Meg a choice. Only she can save her little brother, but she is the one who must decide to do it.

“I can’t go!” Meg cried. “I can’t! You know I can’t”

“Ddidd annybbodyy asskk yyou tto?”

“All right I’ll go!” Meg sobbed. “I know you want me to go!”

“We want nothing from you that you do without grace. . .or that you do without understanding.”

Meg’s tears stopped as abruptly as they had started. “But I do understand. . . . That it has to be me.”

Then Meg returns into the shadow, back to Camazotz, to rescue her brother. But first she is given powerful gifts, and all the gifts are the same: Mrs. Whatsit explains, “I give you my love, never forget that”; Mrs. Who offers a charge to remember “God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty”; and Mrs. Which reminds Meg, “Yyou hhave ssomethinngg that ITT Hhass not. . . Bbutt yyou mussst fffinndd itt fforr yyoursrssellff.”

Then Meg walks into the darkness and finds her baby brother completely overcome by the Shadow, “eyes slowly twirling, his jaw slack.” But she finds her gift: it is love and she speaks it. “Charles, I love you. You are my darling and my dear and the light of my life and the treasure of my heart. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

And love, through the grace of God, saves Charles.

This is the place in the book where I always cry. Because the power of light, the power of God, the power of love is so much greater than the power of darkness. And we, foolish and weak as we are, we can always love, and through loving, share in the power of God and bring salvation.

And this is what I missed in the movie. Though Meg speaks the words of love for Charles, the movie seems to be more about empowering Meg than about the power of love through the grace of God. I was happy as Meg triumphantly returned home, filled with confidence she lacked before. But my soul was not touched as the book touches it.

So go see the movie. It’s good. But be sure to read the book. It’s better.