I watched Rob Roy last night. I love the scene where his wife goes to ask the Duke for help. She says:
It was not done for Your Grace but for his own honour, which he holds dearer than myself or his sons, his clan or kin, and for which I have oft chided him. But it is him and his way, and were he other, he would not be Robert Roy McGregor. ...
And though I love his honour, it is but a moon-cast shadow to the love I bear him.
But I had forgotten the scene near the end where she does anything but "chide" him concerning his honor:
Robert: It was me who was wrong. You were right when you told me I must have it my own way. It's that which brought all this on us. I should have packed my pride and given Montrose his way.
And all this has come on us, all this you have endured. ...
Mary: And wrong would have been done you!
Robert: And what of the wrong done you, wrong past bearing?
Mary: No, not past bearing. ... Not if I have my Robert, and he has himself. And you would not, not if you had done a lesser man's bidding.
'Honour is the gift a man gives himself.' You told our boys that.
Would you have stolen from yourself that what makes you Robert McGregor?
Robert: Oh, my Mary. How fine you are to me. (more...)
Ten years ago, while I was sleeping, my wife, Chris came home a Catholic; not raised a Catholic, mind you, but a convert. As I said, I was sleeping, or I'm sure I would have "done something about it."
Yep, she came out of the closet where she had been living as a closet Catholic for some time and came home from church a born-again Catholic. A closet is not a very comfortable place to live, so I hear. And somehow I think I had kept her in there, and since I was sleeping, she just decided not to hide anymore. She was gonna be a Catholic in the living room and the kitchen, too.
But that was ten years ago, and I've been waking up.
She also has had a couple of minor seizures, after which a person cannot drive for six months.
So, I was a taxi man May to October. I drove for groceries, doctor visits, and church. And rather than drop off my Catholic at Church, I spent six months among the Catholics. I may have attended Mass more than a lot of the parishioners. So what's it like for a life-long Presbyterian to hang with the Catholics? Well, "it was the best of times; it was the worst of times."