"Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty"

(This started out as a comment on this blog post by Tim's Mom, but it got it quickly got too long.)

"Nonsense!" exploded Miss Garnder.

Thus, Francie's teacher responds to her statement that her stories are the truth, and are therefore beautiful. What is beauty? What is truth?

At this point in Betty Smith's classic novel, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Francie's stories have taken a turn for the sordid. Francie's father has passed away, and she is writing little stories about his life in an effort to show the love and kindness and zest for living that he demonstrated. He was a drunk and an irresponsible husband, and they are an impoverished family. But Johnny Nolan was also a handsome dancer and a singer with a fine voice, and a man who loved his family. He was a storyteller and keenly observant (when he wasn't drunk). All the teacher 'hears' in Francie's stories is the poverty and the drunkenness. She doesn't get Francie's ideas about the kindness and love that came through her father. (To be fair to the teacher, from the little we get to read of these stories, it is evident that they contain a strong element of bitterness, bordering on despair, that someone so fine and with such a love of life and people could come to such a sad end.)

Miss Garnder, tells Francie to return to writing about things that are beautiful. Francie asks her, "What is beauty?" Miss Garnder replies that she cannot do better than to quote Keats: "Beauty is truth, truth beauty."

Francie replies, "These stories are the truth."

This apparently offends the teacher, because she unwittingly erupts into strong disagreement, interjecting "Nonsense!" Miss Garnder then goes into a speech about the kind of truth she is talking about:

"By truth, we mean things like the stars always being there, and the sun always rising, and the true nobility of man, and mother-love, and love for one's country."

She continues by explaining her take on why poverty and drunkenness and hunger are not beautiful. Francie answers bitterly in her mind. And all through Francie's internal responses, the reader can see her struggle to communicate the beauty that is her family, underneath the vice and dirt and meanness. She has moved on from the innocent telling of "birds and trees and My Impressions" and is now faced with the enormous task of shining light on hidden virtues in a dark world.

Betty Smith includes a character near the beginning of the book who succeeds at doing just that:

She spoke softly in a clear singing voice. Her hands were beautiful and quick with a bit of chalk or a stick of charcoal. There was magic in the way her wrist turned when she held a crayon. One wrist twist and there was an apple. Two more twists and there was a child's sweet hand holding the apple. On a rainy day, she wouldn't give a lesson. She'd take a block of paper and a stick of charcoal and sketch the poorest, meanest kid in the room. And when the picture was finished, you didn't see the dirt or the meanness; you saw the glory of innocence and the poignancy of a baby growing up too soon. Oh, Miss Bernstone was grand.

I think Miss Garnder received the talking points on beauty, while Miss Bernstone really understood.

_A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_ seems to be Betty Smith's way of illustrating the beauty found even in wretched conditions. I remember the first time I read it. I was surprised to find that the tree mentioned in the title was a common, unwanted tree that grew in tenements and 'liked poor people'. As I got further into the book, I was shocked at the love and laughter contrasted with low, mean living.

At one point in the book, Francie and her brother Neeley are cussed out by a Christmas tree salesman. (There is a whole story surrounding this incident, which includes the throwing of a large Christmas tree, ruffians, blood and a personal Gethsemane.) Francie, having lived in the neighborhood her whole life and understanding its ways, smiles sweetly at him because she knows he is saying, "Good-bye! God bless you!" And Betty Smith writes with such skill that the reader believes it, too.

There is an ache deep within me that takes immense joy in momentary beauty, and then returns to longing. Stories like Betty Smith's satisfy me in that peculiar way. We are all so imperfect, so wrong, so mean and low-- this world is so full of avarice, degredation, degeneracy-- but then for one moment, one slice of time, that magnificence flares out brightly. After that happens, I want to talk about it forever, to keep it always in memory. There is glory out there! Can we revel in it, even for a time? Although I know this is a base and wicked world, I want to tell my children the stories of glory, show them the beauty, the virtue, the Shining Lands that we catch glimpses of here in this life. We do not have to dwell in the sordid. Even Frodo, on Mount Doom, and "at the end of all things", rejoiced in the loyalty and friendship of Samwise Gamgee. If we have eyes to see, we can look through or around the iniquity of this world (not excusing it, mind you) and see the splendor of nobility in a kind gesture, or a magnificent mixture of colors, or a strain of music.

I like C.S. Lewis' explanation of the aching desire we have for the objectively beautiful:

We usually notice it just as the moment of vision dies away, as the music ends, or as the landscape loses the celestial light. What we feel then has been well described by Keats as "the journey homeward to habitual self."

[...]

The sense that in this universe we are treated as strangers, the longing to be acknowledged, to meet with some response, to bridge some chasm that yawns between us and reality, is part of our inconsolable secret. And surely, from this point of view, the promise of glory, in the sense described, becomes highly relevant to our deep desire. For glory means good report with God, acceptance by God, response, acknowledgement, and welcome into the heart of things. The door on which we have been knocking all our lives will open at last.

[...]

We cannot mingle with the splendours we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.

This is Truth. This is Beauty. Those glimpses we see are promises of what is to come. The most beautiful and true things of all are not quantifiable, and are apt to be dismissed in the treadmill of daily life. But they are the promise of glory. I want to revel in them. (When I try it, I seem to lose much of my common sense and become forgetful of the urgent. I haven't got the hang of revelling in beauty yet. I feel like the little boy, Bastien, in The Never-Ending Story: "But I'm supposed to keep my feet on the ground!" :sigh: Maybe someday I will master the art of Getting Things Done While Simultaneously Revelling in Beauty and Joy.)

So there, Tim's Mom. You set my mind a-going. :O) I am very excited about what you and Tim are reading, I sure wish I was going to the ChildLight conference, and I really want to read _The Christian Mind_ too. (I need to get back into my _Poetic Knowledge_ and _Seeking the Face of God_ reading before I try to tackle anything else.)

Note: To balance this post which possibly borders on the spiritually gluttonous, I recommend the Queen's blog post on Chapter 10 of Seeking the Face of God by Gary Thomas. Of a truth, the life of faith is more than chasing after good feelings. And here is an excellent article on developing a Christian mind, by Elder Michael Gowens.

'Nuther Note: I apologize for continually updating after publishing, but there is something about knowing others are reading my work that gives me all kinds of ideas for improvement. I guess this blog is my own personal writer's workshop, lol.

Random Rant About Signs

Certain neighborhoods in our area have signs posted which say, “We love our children. Please drive slowly!”

I wonder if the folks who posted the signs realize what they are implying-- that it’s okay to drive fast around kids whose parents do not love them.

And what about the signs around schools that say, “Drug-Free Zone”? What does that mean? That it is not okay to have illegal drugs in the area immediately surrounding the school, but it is okay just outside the limits of the sign? After all, the 'drug-free zone' is only around the school. Silly me, I thought illegal drugs were illegal everywhere.

Who thinks of these signs, anyway?

Gracious Homemaking

I am reading an excellent book on homemaking right now, _Home Comforts_ by Cheryl Mendelson. Her discussion of what she learned from her mother and grandmothers has inspired me to make a stream-of-consciousness and by-no-means-complete list of attitudes I observed in my mom as I was growing up. (Please allow me to strongly emphasize that, despite her excellent example, I did not inherit my mom's gracious and easygoing attitude, nor her enjoyment of cleaning. But, because of my mom, I know they are attainable, and I work toward them every day.)

1. A clean house is not worth hurt feelings—yours or anyone else’s. She neither pouted nor nagged about us leaving things about or keeping our rooms messy.(This does not mean that she didn’t tell us to pick things up—it just means she did not have an attitude about it. And yes, she did have to deal with our adolescent attitudes.)

2. Neaten as you go. (Pick up out-of-place items as you walk through a room and place them where they belong, or at least *closer* to where they belong.)

3. Shoes belong in closets, clothes belong on hangers or in drawers.

4. The belongings of others are to be respected, even if they are left out. (She thought it was awful to toss someone’s shoes or backpack onto the floor of
their bedroom. Instead, she placed things neatly on the bed or in the corner.)

5. Fold clothes neatly and always iron and match socks as you go. She had no odd-sock basket. (We do.)

6. Having good-quality clothes is a privilege, and ironing can be fun if you think about the beauty of the item you are working with. (I struggle with this because I get impatient.)

7. If you are careful with your clothing, it will last longer. But don’t stress if a shirt gets ruined, simply wear something else, and buy another when you can. It’s just clothes.

8. Scour the sink.

9. Dishes should not sit in the sink. But if someone neglects to rinse and put them in the dishwasher, it is not worth fussing over. Put them in the dishwasher yourself.

10. Bring a tall glass of iced tea to the people working hard out-of-doors.

11. Clean house on Saturdays and before company comes. Cleaning house is also a great cure for insomnia.

12. If you don’t have time to clean house, it’s okay. It will get done a little later.

13. Keep important papers and bills filed in a filing cabinet.

14. It is okay to close the door of your child’s messy bedroom if you must. But insist on having it cleaned out every so often. This will most likely take three hours or more and be accompanied by bad attitudes, but your mood does not have to be influenced by your child’s frustration. (And despite the fact that we were not made to clean our rooms every day, my brother and I keep neat homes. He keeps a very neat home-- I would put my home more on the fairly neat side-- if you give me warning that you are coming to visit, lol-- but I am homeschooling three children. My house was a lot neater when Mr. Honey and I were first married. Hee hee.)

15. Think about your set-outs. Do they look pretty where they are? Rearrange them every so often.

16. It’s your husband’s house, too. Remember to let your arrangements reflect his taste as well as yours.

I'll just end by saying that, growing up, our house was not always spotless, but it was pretty close, and Mom worked full-time in addition to taking care of us and the house. She was, and is, a strong woman.