Memory Lane: A Mess with Tolkien

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We
were the best of friends. Allie, my tomboyish, adventuresome sister, Jeremiah, (code
name Bubba), and I. Summers were spent chasing each other through our field or
building Indian camps in the Alaskan midnight sun. Winter hours caught us
sledding down the hill with cheeks rosy and flushed. Nothing could separate us.

            Except for “Lord of the Rings.” We grew up in a home
where movies filled with magic were eyed suspiciously or were altogether titled
as no-nos. “Star Wars,” “Harry Potter,”
even “Sleeping Beauty” were on my mother’s hit list; therefore, Mr. Tolkien’s
series never entered our VCR nor did its covers ever break open before my eyes.
As I watched my friends flock to the movie theater, obsess over Legolis, and
mimic a certain hunched, green creature I struggled with envy. How I hated to
be left out of the cool crowd; how I despised the inside jokes my cape wearing,
imaginative friends shared!

            So, when the opportunity presented itself, I took it. We
were visiting a family-friend’s home and all my elfish friends decided that
such a get together would not be complete without a weekly viewing of walking
trees and wizards. My blood pumping, I sat down. I do not remember all that I
watched, seeing that my stricken conscience only let me view fifteen minutes,
but I do remember ugly, large squirrel-like creatures. I assume they were bad
guys.

            The next day, being the Lord’s Day, found me in church
sitting next to Nanny, one of my favorite friends. Her family’s pew lay across
the building several rows away from my family’s pew; I was enjoying our time
exchanging bits of gossip during the sermon until the familiar,
attention-grabbin’ sound of motherly fingers snapped. Snap, snap, snap. My body
jerked to attention. My head turned toward the family pew and there sat Allie,
my sister, my comrade, smiling wryly as Mom looked across the church with a face
of disapproval and anxiety. My secret was up; I had been caught.

            I’m not sure what my punishment was for disobeying; I
only know that I haven’t watched a scene of Tolkien’s famous series since that
fateful Sunday. And now, nearly ten years later, I understand my mother’s rule
and concern.

            But my sister’s tattling tongue, her sly snitching, now
that is another matter. 

P.S.
A small note to all Frodo-loving, cape wearing, “Lord of the Rings”
friends out there:

While
I have not and (most likely) will not watch your beloved series, please do not
take offence at this post. I was by no means meaning to tease you (unless you
wear elfish ears and creep around like a hunched creature more often than not). You then, might deserve a little teasing. J

3 thoughts on “Memory Lane: A Mess with Tolkien

  1. Oh how many times have I done something like that?? Thank the Lord for giving us the Holy Spirit to prick our minds when we begin to sin like that. 🙂 Thank you for sharing this, Frannie!! 🙂

  2. What another sweet reminder to guard our hearts with all vigilance… to be careful with what we sow in our minds, and to honor the Lord in all things!

    Blessings,
    ~Shannon~

  3. Dear Sarah:
    You are so right! God is so gracious to have provided his Spirit in correcting and reminding us! What a blessing it is!

    Dear Shannon: Yes, it is true that guarding our heart and mind is so important! I am so grateful to my parents for helping me with this and also now the goodness of GOd's Spirit helping me too! I hope that you are well!

    Blessings to you both!

    Frannie

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