Hill

“Hill…it is a hasty word for a thing that has stood here ever since this part of the wood was made.” - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

What a fickle thing are words. They can convey meaning so specific and precise and yet so full of possibility and understatement.

Hill.

Four characters. Three letters. One syllable. Little cause for excitement. Yet see how a slight exploration can bring an entirely new understanding. A hill is, by definition, an elevated mound of earth, plain and simple, but it is so much more than that. It does not breath, but it has a life of its own. A single hill is as timeless as the ocean. Formed and molded by the hands of God thousands of years before I drew my first breath. It has weathered storms beyond number and set its face upon more sunrises than I shall ever comprehend. It has been climbed by lonely vagabonds and entire tribes. It has fed single caterpillars and herds of cattle. It has felt the harshness of winter more deeply than I can ever know and has sung the songs of spring with more grandeur than my small voice can muster. And on it shall continue to stand and sing long after I have faded away beneath its grassy soil. Every dip and every fold was fashioned carefully by its glorious Creator before the first fall of dew, and there, tucked away between hundreds of other hills, that hill will proudly stand and raise blade and blossom in praise to the almighty King of Heaven until the last sunset. Indeed, what a hasty word for something so grand.

Winnie the Pooh and Friends

I have come to the conclusion that the television show phenomenon of having one best friend is false. Friends come in chains. Friendship is give-and-take when it comes to support offered and received, and as I lend support to one friend, there is always another behind me to keep me propped up.

Imagine a Winnie the Pooh scenario, if you will. ‘Tis a blustery day in the Hundred Acre Wood, and Tigger is foolishly carrying an open umbrella. Well, of course a healthy gust of wind must come along and catch the umbrella and carry him along in the direction of a precarious cliff. Now, Winnie the Pooh has just removed his head from a honey-filled tree hollow and observes Tigger’s plight just in time to grab Tigger’s feet as he blows by. Tigger is slowed considerably by Pooh’s efforts, but the two friends are still being helplessly dragged toward the cliff. Meanwhile, Piglet is gathering acorns from beneath a nearby tree when he sees the commotion coming his way. He tosses aside his acorns and grabs Pooh Bear’s flat feet just in time to prevent the flustered duo from being swept over the cliff.

Now, this could lead to a lesson about Piglet’s heroic act in  a David and Goliath situation, proving that he was braver than he believed and stronger than he seemed, but Pooh Bear physics aside, it demonstrates that while two are indeed better than one,  a three-chord strand is not easily broken (nor is a three-animal chain easily blown away). And so it is that close friends are rarely lonely duos but rather groups that travel either in chains or clusters, willing to leave behind prized honey and acorns to help a friend.

Twice Told Poems: Henry V

We two, we happy two, we band of lovers,

For she today who shares her kiss with me

Shall be my lover; be she ne’er so vile.

Dawn

Thoughts linger on the road behind

And fear the course to come--

I know not where this path will lead

Nor where this river runs.

The darkness of this looming wood

Strikes fear within my soul,

And luring voices all around

Dare draw me from the goal.

Yet looking on the path traversed

I’ve trod this path before--

The bloss’ming fields I loved so dear

Came after rain had poured.

Yes, blackened storms toss to and fro,

And roads wind long ahead,

But I shall walk with hope renewed:

I know this too shall end;

For as the sun rises each morn

And birds awake at dawn,

The flow’ring moors shall soon return

And night’s dark clouds be gone. 

Oh sonnet, my sonnet!

Oh sonnet, sonnet, what for art thou now?

To number love then batter my wretch’d heart?

You ask my sights to bend, my will to bow

To consider a truth adorned, in part,

By pleasing sounds and smooth, swift dancing feet.

But moments come when meaning eludes me--

I wonder, should I trust your rhythmic beat?

Your argument persists and I can’t flee!

Alas! A turn! New motives are revealed!

New hope? Old guilt? A solution perhaps?

Ah! Passion now pervades with zest and zeal

And resolution comes with gentle slap

            To former words--yes, now a jewel to end

            That once again, my flitting thoughts may bend. 

The Lion King and Peter Pan

I remember when I was nine years old, standing out on the steps to the playground with Anni. I was eating my peanut butter crackers while she was eating her Oreos and looking thoughtfully out at the chaos before us. With a sigh, Anni turned to me and said, “I can’t wait until I’m sixteen. Then I’ll be almost grown up and be able to do all sorts of things and go all sorts of places on my own. I can’t wait to grow up.”

In that moment, I came to a very different conclusion: I realized my utter fear of growing up. That meant having to go to high school, then college. That meant moving away from home and not being able to crawl into Mom or Dad’s lap whenever I was scared of the road ahead. That meant being…alone.

Anni couldn’t wait to be king, while I wanted to fly off to Neverland.

Now sixteen has come and gone, and I’m here to tell you that I’m still afraid of growing up. I’m terrified of change and I tremble at the thought of the unknown. But time ticks away at an unstoppable pace and there is little I can do to change the inevitable. So what do I do? I tried turning the clock back, but the hour hand on my watch is stuck. I tried hiding under the covers and ignoring the things going on around me, but that didn’t last long. I tried shutting off all emotion and just marching ahead, but after three months, I finally broke down. Now I’m looking for another method by which to cope.

Everyone seems so excited to enter into this grand new world called college, but what about quirky, nostalgic teenage girls like me?

All that I can think to do now is to look back at where God has led me, and it doesn’t take long to realize that I’ve been here before. Not necessarily the same equation but the same formula, and the solution to this formula always seems to be found in the same way: on my knees. Every time I’ve been here--scared, afraid of what’s to come, and missing what’s behind--I’ve found that my hope is not in human comfort (as lovely as that is) nor is it in getting what I want (that usually doesn’t work), but in coming to a point of total humility before the Lord.

Every time I’m at this point, I find that I must relearn what it means to be content in any and every situation, and I am driven away from my own temporal solutions and to the powerful authority that is my Father’s Word. In my greatest weakness, I find that I am being made strong by the steady and constant hand of my Rock and my Salvation. He is my Refuge in the storm as well as my Pillar of Fire in the night, and although I long to be led out of each desert, I must first learn to content myself with simply being led. Like Charlotte Bronte’s Mr. Rochester, “My heart swells with gratitude to the beneficent God of this earth just now. He sees not as man sees, but far clearer: judges not as man judges: but far more wisely…You know I was proud of my strength: but what is it now, when I must give it over to foreign guidance, as a child does its weakness?”

Acknowledging this with all sincerity, I now find comfort in the words of Anna Waring:
Father, I know that all my life
Is portioned out for me,
And the changes that are sure to come
I do not fear to see;
But I ask Thee for a present mind
Intent on pleasing Thee.

Prayer

Dear Lord! You know that I cannot come before You on account of my own self, my presumption or my worthiness. Just as I might desire to look upon You, yet in the same way I would not be permitted to do so and would not even know how I might begin to pray. Nevertheless I do come before You because You Yourself have commanded it and You earnestly encourage that we should call upon You. You have even pledged a promise. You sent Your own Son, He who teaches us that we should pray, and You have promised to give us the words that we use in prayer. Therefore I know that such prayer indeed pleases You, and that my claim, that I may commend myself as a child of God before You, as great as that may seem, comes from the fact that I must obey You as You would have it. May I never inflict lies upon You and through other and greater sins trespass against You, thereby despising Your command and rejecting the gift of faith in Your promise.   -Martin Luther

In a world that espouses pride, self-worth, and self-righteousness, it is so easy to forget my own unworthiness in the presence of my great and holy God. I so frequently bring Him down to my own level that I might claim understanding, and yet the beauty of His grace and power is that He is, in fact, so far above my understanding and that He is willing to stoop down and reveal just enough of Himself to allow me the privilege of knowing Him. May I never forget that God is God and I am not; I can only see a part of the picture He’s painting.