Here's the prompt for today: Fictional character with whom you most identify?
As crazy as this sounds, the answer is Father Tim in the Mitford Series by Jan Karon. I'm not in my 60's. I'm not Episcopalian. I'm certainly not a priest, but yet I so identify with him. Early in the series, he's a busy guy, content with his work, his dog, his books, his naps and the single life that he's grown so accustomed to. He never ruled out marriage, but it didn't seem to be in his future, so he just lived his life.
I haven't always been so content, but I'm getting there. A few years ago, I told a friend that even if I could somehow see into the future to find out if I would be married or not, I wouldn't want to know because if I found out that I would never find a spouse, it would crush me.
Since then however, my perspective has changed. Maybe it's maturity. Maybe it's an extra measure of grace from God. I don't know. But I now see my life as full—complete with family celebrations, hanging out with friends on weekends in coffee shops, reading any book I choose at any hour I desire with my slippers on while sitting in my favorite recliner (that used to belong to my grandmother), roughing up my cat when she wants to "fight" (of course, she wins every time and is still undefeated), and a lot of other things I used to take for granted when my eyes were on something I didn't have, but wished that I did.
I'm getting quite comfortable in my routines. And oddly, anything that threatens those routines now makes me wonder if I want to interrupt those routines. This is one of the reasons I identify so much with the Father Tim character. Let me back up a little.
In the first of the seven books in the series, a new neighbor named Cynthia moves in next to Father Tim. She's a writer, she's outgoing, she's funny, and she awakens something within Father Tim that he never expected (yes, Episcopalian priests can marry). Here's a little excerpt from At Home in Mitford:
I can picture myself thinking the same thoughts if I were in Father Tim's shoes. He eventually comes face to face with the "going steady" dilemma and his love for Cynthia pushes him past his comfort zone. My life is a lot like that. When I have a desire for something, like marriage, that doesn't appear to be in the works, I find a level of contentment. Then, something happens, like a new woman appearing out of the blue, and pushes me back into marriage mode."These pears," she said, "are ravishing, to put it plainly."
He laughed."One of the qualities I like in you is that you put things plainly."
"What else do you like about me?" she asked, unashamedly licking the sauce off her spoon.
"Now, Cynthia…" He felt a mild panic.
"Oh, just say! And then I'll tell you what I like about you."
To think that he might have been sitting here in perfect peace, in his burgundy dressing gown and old slippers, reading or dozing… "Well then. Are the rules complete candor? Or shall we shade the truth and flatter one another?"
Back and forth it goes. It used to drive me crazy. I've always liked steadiness and anything that causes ripples in my life seems to be an enemy to the familiar. But I'm starting to see that the ebb and flow of life is a constant, and ultimately necessary. And just coming to that realization helps to settle my anxiety about change.
