Madeleine L’Engle died yesterday.
I have been a fan of this lady’s for longer than I can remember. I believe that I have read most, if not all, of the 60+ books that she wrote. She is best known for the children’s classic “A Wrinkle in Time” but there were so many wonderful books, from the Austin family series to the Summer of the Great-Grandmother series to all of the theology books she wrote.
Several of my good friends, as well as my Aunt Bonnie, can tell stories of accompanying me to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in Manhattan, where I’d stalk out the library, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ms. L’Engle. She worked there for many years, as a volunteer and writer-in-residence. She was right there in the library; I could have gone in at any time and said hello. I never had the guts to do it. (I am not a timid person.) Many years ago, a friend and I saw Ms. L’Engle speak at Yale. Again, an opportunity to meet her. Again, I stay in my chair like a bashful child. I never did shake this woman’s hand. I admired so much about her. She was, of course, a talented writer. But she was also a talented theologian.
She approached faith and divinity with a different sort of attitude; the main character in “A Wrinkle in Time” gets through her journey and saves her father using love as her main tool. There is very definitely a Higher Power helping her but it’s not the sort of Higher Power that offends anyone; it’s the sort that feels comforting and real to even the most ardent atheist. When faced with a terrible ordeal, all of us look out into the world for comfort (unless you’re a very successful Buddhist monk) – we want some assurance that Things Will be All Right. Of course, it’s always up to ourselves alone to get through ordeals and make things all right, but the support of others, whether earthly or not, is a great comfort. Sometimes that comfort makes all the difference in the world.
I was very sad to see that Madeleine died in a nursing home in Litchfield, CT. I wanted more for her; I wanted her to die in her own home, surrounded by her family. But that was perhaps a bit selfish of me. Or narrow-minded. This is a quote from her New York Times obit:
Her characters continued living their lives even if she hadn’t mentioned them for decades. She had gotten word that Polly O’Keefe, who appeared in three books of the “Time Fantasy” series, was in medical school, she said a few months before the library speech.
A woman wrote her to say that she herself was a first-year medical student at Yale and that she would love to have Polly in her class. Ms. L’Engle said fine, and the student went to the registrar’s office to sign up Polly as an “official” Yale medical student.
“Why does anybody tell a story?” Ms. L’Engle once asked, even though she knew the answer.
“It does indeed have something to do with faith,” she said, “faith that the universe has meaning, that our little human lives are not irrelevant, that what we choose or say or do matters, matters cosmically.”
I don’t believe that she was alone when she died. I believe that she was surrounded by Polly, and Joshua, and Meg, and all of the other characters she created over a lifetime. I believe they were waiting for her, to accompany her on to the next stage. She wasn’t alone. If there’s one thing that I learned from Madeleine L’Engle, it’s that none of us are ever really alone.
God speed, ma’am.
