As I read A Grief Observed, I was most impressed by the honesty and down-to-earth goodness of the relationship between CS Lewis and his wife Joy.  I loved that they could joke with each other, that they shared the same brilliant minds to analyze literature, and just that they fit so well together.

 He caught my attention when he mentioned that they were completely open with each other and had always known the less-than-glamorous parts of each other.  I love it because that's what a marriage is supposed to do.

We get together because we love each other.  That love eventually pushes and challenges us.  It gets us to grow.  And as both parties grow to become better they find themselves coming closer to the Lord and closer to each other.

Even after her death, as he struggled with intense grief, his love for her pushed him to grow through it - to push past his illusions, to rebuild his faith, and to bring him back to happiness.

I love the seasons and I'll probably write about them every time they inspire me.  There is something so spectacular about the first changing leaves and the first real coat of snow.  Today as I looked out around me I couldn't help but be grateful for the beauty of the place I live.  It snowed a lot last night.  In one evening the world was transformed.

 The last leaves clinging to the trees are now covered in a world of white.  The trees themselves have taken new shape.  Some of them have broken with the weight of their new decoration reminding me that snow is a mixed blessing.  It nourishes, beautifies, and hydrates.  But it also freezes, breaks, and kills.

There is a real deadly beauty to the snow.  I suppose that's why we find it so beautiful.  The things in Nature that impress us most are always the ones that scare us a little.  That's why we call it majestic.  This wondrous dichotomy has impressed others before me.  I think Rg Gregory effectively captured the beauty and danger of snow when he wrote his Images of Snow:

The most profound imagery for me in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is the un-dragonning of Eustace.  After a brief conversation with Aslan, he realizes he has to remove his skin.  He does so only to discover another layer beneath.  This goes on and on until it seems almost hopeless.  Aslan then informs Eustace that he's going to have to let Aslan help him.  Aslan sinks his claws into Eustace's tough dragon skin and tears it from his body.  It's excruciating but exhilarating.  Eustace looks into the pool before him and realizes that he has been set free.  From then on out, Eustace is a changed boy who will come to play important roles in further Narnian stories.

Repentance is exactly the same.  Very often we realize that we need to change and begin to make efforts only to find further difficulties revealed.  It is only when we let the Lord take charge that real change actually begins.

     The magical world of Narnia exists as a place of ultimate freedom. Within it, there is a nature with an openness not found in our world.  Here fairy tales and imagination blossom in a more transparent yet more concrete way.  Right and wrong appear more distinct. The possibilities within Narnia appear endless.  The honesty and the other-worldliness in Narnia create the real growth the Pevinsies experience.  To truly embrace Narnia is to be un-fettered. This world holds us back.  Every day we are bombarded with messages that we are not good enough, smart enough, or attractive enough.  Before long, a chain of doubts, insecurities, and proprieties find the Gods within us crammed into neat little boxes.  Entering Narnia changes all that.  Narnia is a place where divine potential is unleashed.