I believe I quite fell in love this past week.
Before you go and think me too serious, let me assure you of my silliness. I fell in love with Captain Wentworth. The dear, poor love crossed man who waited 8 years for Anne, never loving another, never looking upon another woman. Such deep loyalty of heart cannot help but capture mine. Read Persuasion! Please! Jane Austen’s heroes always seem to be of such excellent and noble character. So much so, I cannot think which one I like better. Whichever book I am reading, I seem to fall instantly in love with all of them. 
I have often been torn between looking for a man who has a great excitement, strength, aggression, and power to do and motivate and a man who has a tender, deep heart with a capacity to not only understand my great imaginings, but also return soulful conversation. I’ve never really considered that there might be a man out there with both traits, for one nature seems contrary to the other. I suppose the former could be romantically described as the warrior, the king, the bold and fearless leader…the other described more as the gentleman, the poet, the soft spoken dreamer, the reluctant hero who takes up the sword not out of thrill of adventure, but out of loyalty to a cause more important than himself.
Do you ever go through those times in your life where you realize how little you know? I once fancied myself the owner of many resolute and soundly reasoned through ideals. How I knew men to be, how I knew myself to be around men, and exactly who I wanted in my life. Yet, God has ways of opening your eyes and completely redesigning your mind. Growing up in a family environment where strong opinions and critical examination of everything, unimportant to prodigious, are regarded as the entire pattern of life, I have found two dreams—two desperately yearned for dreams—nestled within the hope chest of my heart: peace and optimism. A steady, uncomplicated, happy life—simplicity and respect, encouragement and hope—I’ve discovered is something I want more than anything! Oh I don’t feel worthy to earn such a beautiful life as that!
My little family of sister and mother aside, the people in my world never seem happy. There is always something greatly horrible to complain about, there is always conflict to upset tranquility, there are always hurt feelings, unsolvable problems and selfishness to push one’s own way. I suppose every person has problems, and I hardly mean to complain in a piteous way…
It just seems that, in my own limited understanding, life could be better. Couldn’t it? Couldn’t we think on happy things instead of negative? Couldn’t we imagine hopeful endings, instead of bitter? Couldn’t we build up one another instead of tear down?Everyone just seems so dreadfully unhappy in life. Too busy, too complicated, too much worry, too much anger. Why couldn't we all just be patient and quietly spirited like Anne Eliot? Why couldn't we be deep and beautifully minded like Marianne Dashwood? Or calm and sensible like Elinor? Strong and intelligent like Elizabeth Bennet or Emma Woodhouse?
I suppose I have been reading too many Jane Austen novels. I am filled with the gentle, perfect, happy endings which always accompanies the ends of her work. I wish that all people could read her books and come away with the same happy, delighted feelings as I do. I would like to go as far as to say, “Read a Jane Austen book and your entire life will look remarkably brighter and so much deeper!” But that cannot be said for all people. Some people have American Idol, I have 19th century literature. <3
