In the Ivory Tower: A Tribute

I love to read. Because of this love, which quite probably could be labeled an addiction, I have a long list of authors who have influenced my creativity. Charles Dickens, C.S. Lewis, Fyodor Dostoevsky, J.R.R. Tolkien, and G.K. Chesterton, to name a few. A relatively new author that has made the list is Regina Doman. She was added my Junior year in high school, around the same time as Dostoevsky. One reason she stands out among the rest is that she, unlike 98% of my list, is still alive and still writing. Her series I found to be so compelling were the Fairy Tales Retold novels. Some might scoff - and some have - at the seeming simplicity of such a series. Those who do have not read their Chesterton. For Doman and Chesterton are similar in that they know how to use the simplicity of a story to communicate heavy truths. Yes, Doman's lead female characters meet princes in disguise, contend with almost other-worldly villains, and are suddenly revealed to be princesses themselves. There is (very satisfactorily) always a happy ending. Yet, in the midst of these contrasting and colorful characters Doman weaves unexpectedly deep truths about the world. There is evil, and evil is very real. Good contends with evil, but it does not eradicate evil without a price. There are consequences for sin. The truth sets people free, but not without a cost. Love is expensive, but the cost is nothing compared to what is gained.
These are some of the truths revealed in Doman's book. 
Doman recently put on a competition for all of her readers and followers to show how they, like her characters, live their lives as princesses in disguise through picture compilations. I do not take pictures very well, though my sister dragged me in for a couple with her belatedly. I prefer to use my words to taking pictures. Her post, and the subsequent posts of all of  the young women who participated, struck a chord that resonated with me. Words began to fit themselves together, and I scribbled down the following:

There is a beauty that cannot be captured in pictures or words. A life that is lived has a beauty you cannot quite express. It rests upon the tip of your tongue; it dances in the dust moats that float through your pictures. You cannot speak it, for the words slip away before they fall from your lips. You cannot capture it, for it is as elusive as a phantom. You must live it. To live a life beautifully; that is a great adventure.
Being a princess does not mean wearing a crown, or saluting crowds on church steps or from fancy cars. There are princesses and they are in disguise. They are not aware that they are princesses because they are caught up in realizing and living the beauty and glory of a life that can only come from God. A true princess is one who sees the beauty in her life and revels in it. Perhaps one day she will realize that she is a princess, but I do not think it will matter much to her when she does. She is too busy living, and that is what makes a princess beautiful.


Perhaps this is a tad simple and cheesy, but I am not ashamed of being either. I am thankful to Regina Doman for the work she has done, that I have benefited from, and the way she has encouraged me to read more Chesterton. That, come to think of it, might be her best influence of all. 

In the Ivory Tower: On Good Things

If more people saw the beauty in life, perhaps they would live differently. There is so much trouble and hardship in this life, it is easy to lose sight of the goodness God brings to our lives. Anger, fear, and hurt cloud our vision and we do not see the beauty and goodness in our lives, sure signs of the goodness of our God.
I look up at the sky and see a clear blue patch. Clouds have billowed up and covered much of the blue with gray. Soon big, fat drops of rain splatter on to my windshield as I drive to work. In that moment I experience three good things: 1) a car to take me to, 2), my job which provides for my needs. 3) It is raining, which is a great blessing in the dry dusty heat of Oklahoma Summer.
I step out of the rain into the cool dimness of the stairwell. Two flights down takes me to the basement. I follow the chipped linoleum of the hallway around until I come to a thick wooden door. Punching in the code, I shove the door open to reveal a tall counter, three desk areas, and a handful of dingy office chairs all bathed in fluorescent light. As I walk in to put my purse in my locker and my lunch in the break-room fridge, one of the pharmacists tells me, "good morning." Automatically I respond, "good morning."
I do not ponder the phrase, "good morning." I am too busy punching in my number on the time clock.

"Good morning."

Yes, it is a good morning, if only because I am alive and at work on time. It is a good morning, because I have a car that runs, coworkers who are friendly enough to wish me "good morning", and a God who is reigning and who gives good things to His children.
Another fact that I should wake each morning with full reminder of is that I am God's child. What if we Christians lived with that knowledge at the forefront of our minds? Suddenly the red light that kept me at the intersection longer than I'd like has no bearing on my life. Suddenly that issue I need to talk to my coworker about is not so intimidating. Suddenly that nearly-emptied bank account does not matter. I am God's child; He cares for my needs and He gives me good things.