LOTR

I'm a pretty big Lord of the Rings fan. I don't consider myself a huge fan because I haven't tried to learn the languages, but I'm enough of a fan that I've read the three volumes of the book through each January for nearly thirty years.

Last night Sam came home, took Eleanor on his lap and said, "Well, I'm back," just like he has every other time. I love that final scene of homecoming. It's one of the key components of the book's enduring appeal.

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien is more than a mere tale of the triumph of unquenchable good over unassailable evil. Good ironically triumphs over evil through unlikely characters in unanticipated ways. Even though Frodo, with Sam's aid, perseveres to the Crack of Doom, the quest would have failed if it depended on him alone. Treachery becomes the vehicle for the ultimate destruction of evil. Doesn't that sound familiar?

Woven into the fabric of the "good over evil" story line, glimmers the unbroken golden thread of providence. Something happens that the ring "did not intend"; Bilbo and Frodo were "meant" to have the ring.

That portrayal of providence and an emphasis on values such as honesty, duty, loyalty, and sacrifice evidence Tolkien's Christian worldview. The tale is analogous (but not allegorical), paralleling the present antithetical struggle of believers against the evil of this world in preparation for the return of the King and the fulfillment of His Kingdom.

Those are some of the reasons why the tale warms my heart every time I read it during the cold, dark month of January.

Unlike some Tolkien purists, I also enjoy the Peter Jackson movies. For the past couple of years, I've held a LOTR movie marathon on New Year's Day, viewing all three extended versions back to back. And, yes, nearly twelve hours is sufficient to give even me my LOTR movie fix for some time. But I was still up for my annual read.

Family members who have inexplicably observed my interest have given me LOTR board games such as The Confrontation, LOTR Risk, Trivial Pursuit LOTR, and LOTR Trivia Game. For what it's worth, here's my evaluation of those games.

Although I didn't care for my first game of The Confrontation, I enjoy playing it with my son now that he's explained it to me. I've never been a Risk fan; I fail to appreciate games that take so long to set up. The Trivail Pursuit game is based on the movie trilogy and, aside from some obscure questions in the "film" category, is too easy. I can, and have on more than one occasion, won the game in one turn.

The LOTR Triva Game is completely different. It is based solely on the books, and the questions can be far more challenging. Factors beyond simply answering questions correctly make it possible for anyone to win. It's the most fun of the above LOTR games.

Before I end this random LOTR post, I feel that I should reiterate why I like LOTR so much. It's not that I'm a big fantasy fan, but that I see elements in this particular fantasy that resonate with my faith. These elements point me to the One who is Lord of the church, the home, the workplace; the hymnal, the ring, and the pen; the One who is the Lord of all things.

It was the books...

I finally understand why I've continued to feel discombobulated even after curtains are hung and lamps are in place following our painting project.

My husband put together a couple of new bookshelves for my office last Saturday and I've been gradually shelving a few books each day this week.

Now I know: It was the books.

During our hectic child-rearing years, books that came into my possession were helter-skelterly shelved. Theology was in the living room, in our bedroom, and in my office. Fiction was primarily on one shelf, but overflowed to other areas. Books on writing crowded out poetry. An office shelf held two tiers of Latin and grammar.

As I bring order to my book chaos, my feeling of discombobulation gradually subsides.

That increasing feeling of peace, however, is tempered by the nagging fear that I will fill the existing space before I run out of books.

It's must be some sort of bibliagoraphobia. I'm sure Doug can come up with a good name for it.

When God sends lemons

Bearing in mind the saying, "When God sends you lemons, make lemonade," I've begun to record some of the more interesting subject lines of the spam I receive on my Yahoo account. I'm intrigued by the possibility of incorporating the unique word combinations into a novel or some other piece of fiction writing. It would make a great dare for someone participating in National Novel Writing Month.

This morning's contribution to my list was "rejuvenation scornfully" sent by one Gilbert L. Tillman. Other names and subjects that have piqued my interest:

Bert Mcknight: gangland menorah
Ivey Frida: local anesthetic foul
Cruz E. Mirabel: homicide bulldozer
Glover L. Rudolf: high chair commemoration
Chris Andrews: nonconformist clutches
Pius: abdication variation

My off-the cuff imagined manner of using them:

This morning's mail brought a letter from the oldest member of my law firm, Gilbert L. Tillman. He derided my suggestions for improvement and dismissed all my suggestions for rejuvenation scornfully.

He had plenty of his own suggestions, however, including contacting Glover L. Rudolf about his planned high chair commemoration as a public relations stunt designed to appeal to families with young children. He expressed his opinion that the firm should capitalize on the increasing name recognition associated with the defense of Cruz E. Mirabel and his homicide bulldozer case.

He also believed the suit Ivey Frida was bringing against the Chicago Cubs for the local anesthetic foul ball that knocked her out at the beginning of the ninth inning during the last home game would be extremely lucrative for the firm.

But I really began to doubt his wisdom when he began attacks of a religious nature against other partners that he felt are negatively impacting the firm's public image. Bert Mcknight was criticized for displaying his gangland menorah, presented to him by former members of the Vicelords. Tillman encouraged me to stay out of the nonconformist clutches of Chris Andrews, who had recently spent an entire coffee break discussing the abdication variation of Pope Pius II.

And that, my friends, is how I imagine someone would begin to make lemonade out of the spam lemons on Yahoo.

Discombobulate

The Americanism "discombobulated" is a perfectly suitable word to describe my feelings recently. We've been painting. But there's a whole lot more to painting than the mere verb.

About a year ago, I purchased one of those "Bed in a Bag" sets of new linens for our bedroom. These sets include matching sheets, a comforter, pillow shams, and bed skirt. Our previous set was more than twenty years old and had been falling apart for some time. Then last summer, we purchased some curtain panels and valances from a bargain bin at a discount store.

But we just didn't feel up to tackling the painting project until the first Thursday in January. We decided that if we were going to move out all the furniture in order to paint the ceiling and walls, we might as well get the carpet cleaned. And we might as well get the carpet in the living room cleaned at the same time. And then we decided that, if we're going to go to all the work of moving out the living room furniture, we might as well paint that room, too.

So we moved the living room furniture as well as the kitchen table and chairs into the garage, and we moved the bedroom furniture into the dining area. Clothes and the "stuff" from our closets went upstairs, downstairs, and all around the house. The books from two bookshelves in the bedroom went into bags and into my office. The books from a bookshelf in the living room were piled on the fireplace hearth and covered, conveniently enough, with our old bedspread.

We took down light fixtures, we taped, we hung plastic, we covered carpets, we sprayed ceilings, we painted walls, we took down plastic, we took off tape, we retouched paint, we cleaned windows, we had the carpets cleaned, we waited for the carpets to dry, and finally last Friday, we began putting things back in place.

During that long week, we were living in the cramped and cluttered kitchen. My temporary office was my laptop on the bedroom vanity. The disarrangement in our home caused discomposure in my mind.

I felt discombobulated, which is a perfectly suitable word to describe my recent feelings.