How about this: You be Sir Gawain and I'll be Penelope. That's called a metaphor.

Everyone who knows me well knows that I infinitely prefer a well told shoot 'em up movie to the latest chick flick.  I'll take Bond, James Bond over What Women Want any day, especially if he's Sean Connery or Daniel Craig.  (From Monte Carlo with Love, anyone?   I tried.)  Also, if there's a combination of action and sci-fi, or action and, say, Middle Earth, I'll be there in two seconds flat.  That being said, I am also more than a little obsessed with Jane Austen.  I know, it doesn't make sense to me, either. (Well, it has to do with words, so it kind of does make sense...)

I had to preface this post with that paragraph.  Something inside of me insists on rebelling against pink, overly-priced purses, and froo-frooness (speaking of words...).  I've had to face the facts a long time ago.  I am only just now learning what to do with my hair, my nails will probably never be more than just presentable, and I really don't know that much about fashion except as it pertains to me and what I feel I look good in.  My favorite color is green, my second favorite is orange, and though I find the romanticism of Win a Date with Tad Hamilton adequate on a surface level, what I really long for is a gun (cross-bow/sword/nun-chucks), a mission, and someone to execute it with.  I really think this is what all women want.

But I am not going to get lost on a rabbit trail of how women are not the adventure itself but a partner in the adventure.  (For more wisdom and insight into that idea and more, read Captivating.) Well, maybe I am, but not in the way most of you (my old and new small group girls and those friends who have been around long enough to hear me rant) have heard before.  Because today, I had a revelation.

I feel sort of silly writing this.  I feel silly because this is the second time the Lord has shown me something through a CHICK FLICK.

I have wanted to re-watch the movie Kate and Leopold for several weeks now, and I haven't had time to do it.  This morning I had an empty apartment and took some sabbath time (see previous blog post).  The revelations I had during it were more like reminders than anything.  Maybe even more like exhortations.  Maybe it was a wake-up call.  I don't know.  How about I just tell you already?

Do you know the premise of Kate and Leopold?  You should watch it.  It nicely combines science fiction and love story, and after watching it for only the third time ever, I noticed deeper channels that I doubt even the writers and directors fully understand.

First off, Leopold is from 1876, and Kate is one of us 21st century women.  Through an interesting series of events, Leopold enters Kate's life, and this is what he shows her: gentlemanliness.  Not the simpering, cordial small talk kind of gentlemanliness.  I'm talking respect, honor, graciousness and courage.  The whole chivalric shebang.  He honors her simply because she is a woman; he honors her when she has done nothing otherwise to earn it. In fact, her primary behavior discourages it.  He is the first man to ascribe this kind of intrinsic value to her, and it changes her.  Basically, there is something divinely right about being what the Lord had in mind for us to be, both men and women.  Watch the movie with this in mind and I think you'll see what I'm talking about.

The second and significantly less pronounced is the state of the nurse at the mental hospital where the character responsible for this time-travel is trapped.  As he fervently explains what he knows to be true, her desire for something spectacular, for the existence of something grand and exciting, for...adventure, is evident on her face.  Clearly she has been trapped in her "there IS nothing more than this provincial life" way of thinking, and he sets her free.  Is there anyone who cannot relate to that? And is it sappy and quasi-TV preacher of me to say that it was kind of...beautiful?  Yeah, it probably is.  But, oh well.

That's the whole gist of it.  That is how my morning was spent.  I was being reminded of the Sacred Romance (which also happens to be a book title), of whom I am called to be, and what real men look like through a chick flick.

Hello, real life!