I’ve neglected two Mondays of Summer Reading posts, largely because the news out of Ferguson has been central to my reading in recent weeks. Several titles that were on my summer list have been placed on the back burner for another season, but I’m determined to finish one more good book before the autumn temperatures arrive … so I’ve returned to a long-ago friend, Emily of New Moon.
I’ve not sat with Emily for years — since childhood, I’m sure — and I’m making my way slowly through her story, as told in a trilogy by L. M. Montgomery. I can’t breeze through Emily of New Moon the way I skimmed through Dragonsong earlier this summer; it’s been too long since I’ve visited New Moon. Yet page by page, I’m remembering why I always loved Emily a little more than Anne (of Green Gables fame): Emily reminded me of me.
Emily is a writer at heart, a solitary soul who loves deeply but carefully. She delights to find just the right word with her pen, and she navigates the world thoughtfully yet (secretly) sensitively. I wonder now when I first read Emily of New Moon, and how much her story impacted my own writing aspirations and assured my natural introversion. Perhaps I’m attributing too much credit to a single book, but while I’m wondering, I suspect too that Emily had an early influence on my theology:
“I know what your God is like,” said Emily. “I saw His picture in that Adam-and-Eve book of yours. He has whiskers and wears a nightgown. I don’t like Him. But I like Father’s God.”
“And what is your father’s God like, if I may ask?” demanded Ellen sarcastically.
Emily hadn’t any idea what Father’s God was like, but she was determined not to be posed by Ellen.
“He is clear as the moon, fair as the sun, and terrible as an army with banner,” she said triumphantly. (p.23)
I’ll continue to enjoy reacquainting myself with Emily in the days (likely weeks) ahead, as the Summer Reading series ends and I return to my usual Monday Muse postings.