Godspeed, Miss L'Engle.
I remember, in the years prior to Chuck Jones’ death, a mild trepidation that lingered in the back of my mind. I’d seen him speak at a couple events, and both times I never screwed up enough courage to walk up to him, even as other fans were offering handshakes, smiles, and accolades. Granted, I hadn’t even hit adolescence yet (and I don’t know if my parents actually saw a budding passion for animation or simply sought avenues to keep me from feeling left out since both my sisters were athletes -- all I know is that once we knew later on that animation was indeed going to “stick,” they’ve continued to be supportive and encouraging in ways that still, to a certain extent, don’t allow me to understand how other parents can be anything but those things towards their own artistic-leaning children). Still, as I got older and realized just how much Jones was getting on in years, the “what if”s cropped up. And once he did pass on, I was left with the image of a man with white, wispy hair, a twinkle in his eyes, a cowboy hat, and an enthusiasm that even a cane and a fierce stumble while climbing onto the stage couldn’t curb...as well as a resignation that I couldn’t make up for lost opportunities. But the fact that I saw him in person is still a treasure -- one I wouldn’t give up for just about anything -- and I hold it close to my heart.
I found out today that Madeleine L’Engle passed away on Thursday. The yearning and sadness is little different this time, because I wanted to thank her, too. But as Jones’ work enthralled me with both visually-dynamic and subtler wit, L’Engle was the first to take my hand, place Story in the other, and help gently lead me to the realization that anyone who believed that informed faith and imagination were mutually exclusive were probably not allowing themselves to dream enough.
And I liked dreaming. I still like it, maybe even more than adding to my mental storehouse of knowledge. God is a God of love first and foremost, but also of infinite imagination -- and we tend to forget that as adults. On the other hand, the advantage of getting older is that (hopefully) we gain discernment. I can’t read L’Engle’s Time Quartet -- understanding that she’s designated her fantasy novels as revealing her theology -- and simply go along with all of the conclusions she draws. But that doesn’t mean I won’t allow my imagination to be stirred, or that I will discard those points which I believe not only express Truth but do so with a skill and palpable candor that should be applauded. L’Engle, through her writings, was certainly not the only one to encourage me in seeking out and striking that balance between discernment and intuition, but she was among the first. And it is for that which I would thank her.
But instead I will pray that she is Home now, settling in for a well-deserved rest, and that her stories -- both Chronos- and Kairos-based -- will continue to be enjoyed for a long time to come. We’ll miss you, Miss L’Engle.
I found out today that Madeleine L’Engle passed away on Thursday. The yearning and sadness is little different this time, because I wanted to thank her, too. But as Jones’ work enthralled me with both visually-dynamic and subtler wit, L’Engle was the first to take my hand, place Story in the other, and help gently lead me to the realization that anyone who believed that informed faith and imagination were mutually exclusive were probably not allowing themselves to dream enough.
And I liked dreaming. I still like it, maybe even more than adding to my mental storehouse of knowledge. God is a God of love first and foremost, but also of infinite imagination -- and we tend to forget that as adults. On the other hand, the advantage of getting older is that (hopefully) we gain discernment. I can’t read L’Engle’s Time Quartet -- understanding that she’s designated her fantasy novels as revealing her theology -- and simply go along with all of the conclusions she draws. But that doesn’t mean I won’t allow my imagination to be stirred, or that I will discard those points which I believe not only express Truth but do so with a skill and palpable candor that should be applauded. L’Engle, through her writings, was certainly not the only one to encourage me in seeking out and striking that balance between discernment and intuition, but she was among the first. And it is for that which I would thank her.
But instead I will pray that she is Home now, settling in for a well-deserved rest, and that her stories -- both Chronos- and Kairos-based -- will continue to be enjoyed for a long time to come. We’ll miss you, Miss L’Engle.