One of the scariest parts about life is that terrible things can happen completely outside of our power to predict or prevent them. Even if you’re like me and do your best to prepare for all kinds of circumstances, there will still undoubtedly be something in your blindspot. For example, you might keep jumper cables in your car in case your battery dies, but maybe you don’t have a spare tire. Or, maybe you have jumper cables and a spare tire, but not a tire jack. Or—again, if you’re like me—maybe you have jumper cables and a spare tire, and a tire jack, a compass, an emergency synthetic down coat, spare battery, water filtration system, sleeping bag, mallet, first-aid kit, and fire starters in case there’s another terrorist attack on America but this time it’s in Chicago and I need to escape the city and meet my family at our predetermined designated coordinates in the North (can you tell my dad lived through a war), where hopefully we’ll be safe from the air strike… And yet, the other day, I somehow didn’t have a TideStick in my purse when I needed one.

Sometimes you just never know what you need to prepare for.

Despite our (my?) best efforts, we just simply can’t be prepared for all things at all times. However, something we can do, is prepare our character to face these disasters.

In a lecture he gave on his book After You Believe, N.T. Wright gave some cool examples of how being intentional about developing your character doesn’t just “make you a better person” in a vague, abstract sort of way, but it actually can literally change your physiology. He explains a study that was done on, of all people, taxicab drivers in London: as part of their certification process, cabbies are required to not only complete objective driving tests that quiz them on the rules of the road, but, they are also required to complete other more subjective problem-solving tests on various situations that they might find themselves in—things like taking alternate routes to avoid demonstrations (which are very common in London), rerouting for construction, traffic, big stop-and-go tour busses, etc. As a result, scans of cabbie’s heads actually show a physical enlargement of the hippocampus—the decision making part of the brain. Their preparation and practice literally made them different people; it reinforced neural pathways, strengthened their brains, and made them more capable of making confident and informed decisions on the fly.

Additionally, N.T. Wright uses the example of an airplane pilot. When something goes wrong in the cabin, he says, that is not the time to be pulling out the manual; you can’t go through the contents, find the right page that will address the issue that has arisen, and then take your time deciding what to do next. When the next moments of the future are in immediate question, when your wandering mind is suddenly shocked into focus, and every second feels like an eternity while simultaneously flashing by as fleeting as lightning—there’s no time to check the book. You need to rely on the character you’ve developed, and the decisions you’ve made ahead of time, about the kind of person you are going to be in the moments that count.

I think about this concept not only in terms of myself, and the kind of person I want to be, but also in terms of the partner I’ll choose to share my life with.

It’s not normally my thing, but, a few years ago, I did read a book on dating (the first and last) that was recommended to me by my cousin—it’s called “The Sacred Search,” by Gary Thomas. Despite my doubts and hesitations, I really did love it. The Christian dating culture is notoriously, well, dumb (that’s another article), but Thomas’s words were super refreshing and realistic in not only talking about being “equally yoked,” as Christians love to over-emphasize, but also in choosing to align your life with a person who will actually be a solid life partner. They’ll take you to the emergency room in the middle of the night, they’ll drop everything when your kid skins their knee, they’ll be on their knees with you when your parent dies, when the unthinkable happens, when the unmanageable needs to be managed—when the life you didn’t predict or couldn’t prevent is the one you’re dealt.

The Sound of Music is my favorite movie. Not just because I’m a musical theatre nerd, and obsessed with Julie Andrews—but more so because of the quality of Maria Rainer’s character.

I know I should assume everybody has seen this movie, but just in case you haven’t, here’s what you need to know:

Maria, a novice nun-in-training, becomes the governess to Captain Von Trapp’s seven children in 1940-something. At the time, he is romantically involved with a sophisticated, Viennese socialite named Baroness Elsa Schraeder. Over time, Maria charms the stern and militant Captain with music, spontaneity, and authenticity, bringing love, connection, and warmth to this cold family for the first time, and changing their dynamic forever. As such, Captain Von Trapp ends up falling in love with Maria and ending his engagement to the Baroness. However, throughout their budding love story, the Third Reich has moved into Austria, and by the time of Maria and the Captain’s marriage, the Nazis have established dominance in the Austrian government, and demanded Captain Von Trapp’s service in their navy. He receives a telegram informing him of their “request” to accept immediately, and has mere hours to decide what to do. He tells Maria, “To refuse them would be fatal for all of us—to join them would be unthinkable.” That’s the moment when Captain Von Trapp decides that he and his family must leave Austria; they pack up their car in secret, leaving behind their opulent home, their servants and staff, their life of luxury, comfort, and status—and with only the clothes on their backs, and whatever few bags they can carry, they flee.

However, during their escape in the middle of the night, the borders are suddenly closed. Military checkpoints are erected. Upon hearing this news, the Captain immediately glances around, his gaze falls on the mountains, and he insists they continue their journey on foot. He, his brand new wife, and their seven children—the oldest barely sixteen, and the youngest merely five—set their eyes on the hills and move decidedly towards Switzerland without looking back.

And at this point in the movie, I always think to myself, Imagine if the Captain had married the Baroness instead of Maria. I hardly think that Elsa Schraeder, with her “glittering circle of friends,” and her “yacht for her bathtub” would trek over those mountains in a fierce rejection of a political regime that didn’t directly affect her (or her wealth). But for Maria, the right thing to do did not even require a moment’s hesitation; from the start, through every moment and choice, we see her focused on goodness, truth, and on doing the next right thing—and then, one day, it really counted.

One of the scariest parts about life is that we can’t predict when those moments in the cockpit will come or prevent the accidents with the spare tire. But, every day, we have small opportunities to build our character into someone we aspire to be when those moments come, rather than someone we might accidentally find we resent. I think we all want to prepare, know who we really are, and who’s by our side, when Nazis come knocking.

Sophia Medawar

Sophia (‘19) double-majored in theatre and religion and insists that her life is a “storybook.” She lives in an apartment above a flower shop in downtown Chicago and has multiple roles working across the arts in comedy, music, theatre, film, and visual art—though her greatest passion is writing. Her work includes stage plays, screenplays, and articles, focusing mostly on cultural trends, comedy, reviews, and religious satire. She loves road trips, visiting her family in Grand Rapids, hunting for the perfect latte, and rescuing plants from the flower shop’s dumpster.