Summer Solstice

It has been a busy week or so with some big events--life events for some of my friends.

My mind has been reeling with so many different thoughts and feelings. There are things that have a hard time taking shape in my mind and so I have a hard time even beginning to express them. It seemed appropriate that on this day, the longest day of the year and first official day of summer, that I try to sort through some of these things.

This past weekend I went to Wisconsin for the wedding of two good friends. The entire trip felt surreal. I now know people who are going to be living in Wisconsin. I know people living in Illinois and I know people all over the place now--even as far as China. At one point during the reception, I was standing towards the back of the tent, watching the dance floor, with a glass (mason jar) of wine in one hand and the other hand firmly planted on my hip in the traditional Schuett stance. It was like I was watching myself, and saw more than felt myself sway a little. I was overwhelmed by the significance of the moment. This would be the last time I would see some of these people for a very long time, and all I could find myself dwelling on was how I wished a certain boy was there with me. So I was having a moment with myself, reflecting on the places life takes us and the turns we don't expect, when a friend caught me--and I'm sure it looked like I was having a moment with the wine...but it was really just a moment of introspection. The spell broke and I was left giggling, despite the serious overtures of my heart moments before.

This boy I was wishing had been there, he's probably the one you were expecting, the one who writes me letter, wasn't the one I was expecting to miss. This last year has been interesting to say the least, and while a part of me still clings to hope that we, the letter writers, will find a way to be near one another, there is still enormous room for doubt. It would be a lie to say there was no one else this year that interested me. I wish I knew the reason behind the unsent letter in my notebook...the one dated June 1, 2013. I wish I knew why it was still there, why I haven't sent it. It's not like it's full of embarrassing things, honestly it's quite hum-drum. But maybe that's why. Because I feel like I'm telling half-truths.

But then I also feel like I'm telling myself half-truths. A friend asked me this week if I was finding a way to be spiritually fed--despite my ever-present loneliness. I told her yes. A half-truth. Some days I do feel incredibly blessed and like I can feel the Hand of God in my life. But most days I feel aimless. It's almost like I'm the small child who desperately wants to be tickled, but doesn't want to be too obvious about that desire. I want that connection, that passion, that drive to learn more, but I don't want to be obvious about the search...and I have a hard time asking for help because I feel like I should be strong enough to push myself. [Lord, give me the grace to realize I am in need of shepherding.]

A couple weekends ago, one of the older gentlemen I work with at the dealership approached my desk. This particular salesman is one of my favorites, he's funny and smart and incredibly nerdy. We have a lot of common interests, and he listens to me babble on about (girly) things. He even asks me questions about how my love-life is going. In fact, he's known all along about the boy who writes me letters...and he knows about the boy I work with. Anyhow, he approached my desk and instead of asking the usual question of who things were going with the young men in my life, he blatantly asked, "Anna, what is wrong with all the men in your life? Are they all idiots that not one of them would be dating you?" I was shocked. I didn't know how to respond...so I laughed and said that I doubted that was the case. I'm still in shock over that situation...and I still don't know how to respond. It's still taking form and shape.

I've also realized that it has been nearly a year since I wrote any poetry. Why is that? Poetry has always been my form of non-fiction, of autobiography. Why am I letting this portion of my life go unmapped? This is a time of discovery, of hope, of new ground. Why am I letting it slip away?

We had writing workshop this week, and it went well. We spent quite a bit of time on my piece, but we had a lot of ground to cover there. I am excited about the story, about the things that are developing and the way characters are revealing themselves to me while I am doing mundane chores (like dishes and laundry and showering and walking the dog).

When did I become a reluctant reader? I have so many books that I want to be reading, but I'm not...I look at them and wonder what they're about, but I'm not actually reading them. I need to be in the structured setting of school again--good thing grad school is just around the corner!

That's all for tonight...there are still uncertainties, and I don't feel like I've answered any questions or resolved any inner turmoil, but at least I've laid them out.



My chest hurts when I breathe tonight...it's wasting me away...wasting me away. [Anberlin, Symphony of Blase]

You never stop learning the important lessons....

I've been learning a lot about myself lately. Working in an elementary school has certainly lent to this "growth spurt."

For example, I've been learning about the kind of parent I'll be. I mean, we all hope to be the stellar parents that the Hallmark movies show us, but when it comes right down to it we're human and we're bound to make mistakes. That doesn't mean I can't learn from the parents at my school--the good and the bad.

Some parents make a point of coming to eat lunch with their kids once a week--I think this is a neat idea, though maybe a bit unrealistic depending on the work situation. I do think I'll try to make it at least once a month though...just so I can see how the kids all interact together.

If a teacher tells me my child may have a learning disability, I will be the first one to sign off on the paperwork--I'd rather know the name of the beast and face it head on then let it terrorize my child out of fear that it may be difficult to tame.

Medical issues. We'll get them taken care of. 

We're going to read. I'll read them bedtime stories and then I'll work on their reading with them--like my parents did for me. 

If the teacher or administration says my kid has a behavior issue in school I will believe them. Kids aren't always perfect angels. 

And I think I'll figure out some way to make sure the teachers knows he/she is appreciated. (We have parents that bring their teachers things to keep them motivated and inspired--calendars and sticknote pads with quotes, etc.) 


Most profoundly though, I've learned that I have a love for broken things.

Some of the kids I love the most--care about and worry about the most--are the ones that have behavior issues and struggle with reading and math. Now, this comes mostly from working with them the most. I can't tell you how sick I feel though when a little girl is so lonely at home that she can hardly bear the thought of going into a crowded classroom where she has no friends--and she's clutching at my fingers, hoping that I will just listen to her. So I get hugs from the kids that need the most love...and I can't say that I mind.

It's funny, these same kids that are stealing my heart now are the kids that drove me nuts when I was in their classes with them. I always hated how the troublemakers got the most attention... but when I look back on it, they probably needed it more than I did. I didn't go home to a mom that was so preoccupied she couldn't read me a story. I didn't go home to a sister that told me she hated. I didn't go home to find out that my dad was going to jail. My home was always filled with love and support.

I didn't understand that then. I'm glad I'm still learning now.

Says She's Got Hope...

The month of February was a rough one. I wish I could say it was just me, but it isn't. If I were the only one struggling it would have been more bearable, but nearly everyone I interact with was having some kind of problem too.

Really, it all started to unravel the week of Valentine's Day. Please don't take this as a single hating on the holiday devoted to couples--it's not. I really have no problem with Valentine's Day, except that it means there is way too much chocolate just floating around. In fact, I was even determined to have a good February 14th because, honestly, the week before had been awful for some people and I didn't want the trend to continue.

I went to bed that Monday praying I would get a letter from a graduate program. In my dreams I would be accepted into the Literature program at my top choice of school. It would be a day to write home about.

Well. I did call home, several times that day, but it had nothing to do with grad school letters. I was having some chest pain that was worrisome. I spent Valentine's Day morning in and out of various medical locations. Alone. (And I wasn't pining for a special someone, I just wanted my momma.)

A couple days later (Thursday) I had mail. An envelope from my preferred school. It was small, average letter size. Why do we put so much of our fate into the seals of envelopes? Inside was a perfectly creased rejection letter. My heart sank, and all through my British Literature class I was distracted. At one point, my professor called on me, and I scrambled to find the answer to a question I hardly heard. When I apologized after class for being distracted I cried. In front of a professor, whom I love but have no emotional connection with, I cried.

Since that day I've been riddled with thoughts of rejection, and in the back of my mind I can hear Professor Reek chanting, "They don't know what they're missing!" But as the days go on, his voice fades away and I'm left alone with the self doubt. What if I didn't get into the literature program because I'm not ready? I'm not passionate enough? I don't have what it takes?

This last week I found out I didn't get into one of the Creative Writing programs I applied to...and the questions started up again. (It was even the program that I was least interested in, and I still got upset about it.) Maybe this is all God's way of telling me that I picked the wrong career path.

That's just my stuff. And my stuff this month seems pretty lame compared to every thing else that my friends are going through.

I've started drinking tea again--like, every night and day. I also turned on some Anberlin. I don't know why I forget that they are one of the few bands that lets me wallow for a little while before convincing me it's time to get back up again. I need to put that in a hubby letter, something like this: "When I'm upset or depressed, put on some Anberlin and it will probably be okay in a few hours." (This rut is taking longer than a few hours to work myself out of.)

This will be a better month. March means spring is coming, and spring means there is hope.

"You're so brilliant. Don't soon forget. You're so brilliant. Grace marks your heart." [Anberlin, The Unwinding Cable Car]

I could never save myself...

There's an itch inside me. (I mean this both literally and figuratively.)

Many (if not all) of you know that I was badly sunburned a few weeks ago. Well, it's mostly "faded" now, and the pealing is mostly all gone.... but the itching. The itching will not go away. I'm lucky I have any skin left with how itchy I've been. People will comment on my sunburn (still) and I don't know if it's actually residual red from the burn or from my constant scratching. Maybe both.

Just as the itch on my skin is irritating, so is the itch in my soul. The difference is that I have not been able to scratch away the discomfort therein. Instead, it goes on bothering, becoming more incessant and more irksome everyday. Everyday, another part itches.

I would like to say that the answer to this itchiness would be to write....and I do believe it would help. As I told a dear friend in a note the other day: I have not had time to write, and therefore have not been writing everyday. Perhaps the stagnant waters of my soul started here. I was not moving the waters, becoming still in the routine of the day-to-day. Even now, I think to myself that I should be reading for a class instead of engaging in this potentially cathartic activity.

There are other things.

How do you swallow the words of nights past? Take it all back, let things play out the way they were meant to. Why did you ever open your mouth to begin with? I lack the grace to take these things in stride.

How do you console a friend that has just told you her dad in terminal? That he cannot speak to her the way he used to? She tells you not to cry for her, but these tears have been pushing for days, and this is just the news that wants to send them over the brink. You can spend all the time in the world working on homework for your Death, Dying, and Trauma class, but when those hard questions come up you just may not have the answers. I don't know if my arms are brave enough to help you carry this. 

How do you carry a friend's secret? Carry it wrapped up in your heart, tucked away. Let everything that is negative bounce off your shield, leaving dings and scratches. I don't know if I'm strong to hold up forever.

A friend once told me I had strong arms. Arms that could help one bear their burdens with a simply hug. All I want is for someone with strong arms to hold me. Tonight I couldn't stand the silence of my dorm room, so I slept. I went to work. I got back to the dorm, knowing I would be alone again. So, I decided to go for a drive, thinking it would make my heart feel less heavy in my chest.

I was in a wedding this last weekend. My friend now has a strong set of arms that will hold her through all things--in their vows he mentioned that he would be her shield. It gave me chills.

Now, I sit here, thinking of all the things I need to do, just wishing, praying, for some strong arms. For someone to be my shield. Because in that car ride I realized that when I am in need is when I give the most. I asked the Walmart lady if she was having a better night...only to get a long explanation about how it was worse than the other day. And even though I felt like my heart would burst, I gave her a smile anyway and told her that I hoped things would start looking up soon. I need someone to protect me for this emotional fatigue.

I am so itchy. And I just want it to go away.

"Hold fast, help is on the way." [Casting Crowns]

I ride (write) to find my own meaning...

I've mentioned before (back at the beginning of this blog, ...because they love you) how I feel connected to Eowyn from "The Lord of the Rings." She is perhaps my favorite female character in all the literature I have read thus far. It runs deeper than her relationship with Aragorn (or lack there of) or Faramir (something I long for).

I feel like she is cruelly misunderstood by the general audience. There are two main things I see:

1. People have only seen the movies. Now, I love the Peter Jackson adaptation of the books. However, I think he significantly downplayed Eowyn's character and the real issues she was dealing with (especially in the theatrical version). Viewers get the impression that she was simply love sick--tired of being left behind at home and wanting some adventure. Aragorn was different and definitely a break from the hum-drum of her life.

2. She's a fairly minor character when compared to Gandalf, Aragorn, or Frodo. She has a huge moment, but doesn't come in until the second book, she just doesn't get as much space on the page as some of the other characters. So maybe readers just don't pay her much attention. Or they don't see some of the things about her character because it takes those around her a long time to figure it out--they chalk it up to being lovesick as well.

There's more going on there. [More going on in me.] Now, there are definitely elements of her being lovesick (but there's a cause behind the cause) and she is a minor character (which is part of why she is the way she is!). It's all very intriguing to me, and I wrote a paper on it last semester (and posted it here, I'm preparing you for something great...)... but I'm going to try to paraphrase what I'm feeling right now.

Her biggest issue is finding her place in the world--what her purpose is. Her brother and uncle get to ride off into battle and gain honor and renown--something she yearns for. She doesn't want to be forgotten. So, she's learned how to fight and defend herself. She has honed her skill because she doesn't want to be left behind; the last defense.

Eowyn wants to be remembered for doing something great. For making a difference. She wants to die with honor.

Now, maybe this is just the effects of my "Death, Dying, and Trauma" class coming out, but I want the same thing. I want to use my life for something with purpose. I want to make a difference. And when I die I want it to be with grace and dignity. (That class will make you think about death in a way you would never imagine.)

I don't think I'm the only one. Eowyn's character speaks to something so very human. Nobody wants to be forgotten and left behind. She was struggling deep within herself. Her upbringing was telling her one thing while her heart said something else. Her heart says, "you can be a hero." Her mind says, "you're only a woman."

Sometimes I take on the same mentality. I'm only one person. One young woman. What weight can I bear in this world?


I don't suffer from depression. (Not that I know of, anyway.) And so I can't claim that part of her character to be an echo of myself. She was fighting against social norms, and I do feel like I'm doing that myself, in a different way.

I found a song on iTunes really randomly one day. It's called "Eowyn's Song" and it's beautiful. It captures her character perfectly (while focusing on the Aragorn issue, which is still a big deal, don't get me wrong). Please listen to it. (LeAnn, you've already heard it, but you can always listen again.) This is the song that prompted this post, so it's kind of a big deal. Ha.

There's a line in the song, "I ride to find my own meaning," and I don't think any combination of words could described her situation (in a nutshell) any better. And that is something so deeply ingrained in me. Instead, I don't ride horses (I'll leave that you, Lisa, dear). I find my meaning in my writing (and in the Bible and Christ, but that's a Sunday School answer) because writing is the way I let go of the things that distract me. It's my way of filtering through the turmoil and the joy.

"No one will hear of this tale." This is an interesting comment on the view of history and how it is recorded and retold. (My Ling and Lang senses are tingling.)

"I go with a mind full of death." I'm not suicidal. Not even close. But there is something in this that tugs at me. Something about Eowyn's plight pulls at my heart so strongly... She has a heart of sacrifice, if that is what will get her honor and valor. "Oh, I would have followed you down to the end, my captain, my King. Oh, I would have followed you down to the Paths of the Dead."

"Fire consumes the heart that teaches captain of evil to fall. Desire, as pure as the man that reaches the humble hero in us all." This is my favorite line. Absolute favorite. Because she is the one that teaches the Witch King to fall. She did this from a pure desire. And I think "the man that reaches" is Aragorn, and he taught her to be a hero in a backwards kind of way. He was belittling her, like some might think. Indeed, he pitied her.  He was reaching the humble hero in the hearts of the Hobbits, and he did the same for her.

I'm not articulating this as well as I had hoped I would. But maybe you understand. Maybe you see yourself echoed here. Maybe you, too, worry for the way you will be remembered. The way you will leave your mark on this world.

"...the humble hero in us all."

I'm preparing you for something great...

So, I've been thinking a lot about the character Eowyn this semester... and I have a post I've been working on. But I want to "prime" you for that post because it's going to be kind of a lot if I try to prime as I write it... uh. That makes it sound really daunting. Basically, I want to share with you a paper I wrote last semester on Eowyn as a character. So that's what this is. After you've read this, the next post will make more sense because this is a character analysis--I could write a book on her, for the record, so just know that this is the reigned in version. (ha) I hope you enjoy it...I know it's long, but there are some great quotes sprinkled throughout.

A Character Expose: Eowyn, Shieldmaiden of Rohan

            Tolkien deals with several issues throughout “The Lord of the Rings,” but one that seems out of place in this trilogy about men saving the world is the role of women in society. The reader meets female characters like Goldberry, Arwen, and Galadriel—and they are beautiful and each commanding of respect—but they are all very different from Eowyn. Tolkien devotes special attention to this mortal woman that he did not necessarily pay to those that are ageless. She gets more action time than the other women. Eowyn desires honor, valor and renown mainly—and she is willing to do nearly anything to obtain them. She longs to fight in battle with the men of her household—she does not like being idle. When men come into her life that possess the things she seeks they enthrall her. 

            It is no wonder why Eowyn feels trapped by her situation—she has been living in a house that is corrupted and there is nothing she can do to change it. When we first meet her, she is almost missed in the midst of the “exorcism” of King Theoden, the uncle she has been watching after while he fell deeper and deeper into despair. She gets one paragraph devoted to her, which seems to punctuate that she is forgotten or ignored to a certain extent.

“Grave and thoughtful was her glance, as she looked on the king with cool pity in her eyes. Very fair was her face, and her long hair was like a river of gold. Slender and tall she was in her white robe girt with silver; but strong she seemed and stern as steel, a daughter of kings.” (The King of the Golden Hall)

The first impression we get is that she is beautiful, but full of sorrow and pity. One wonders why she pities the King. There are a few possible reasons for this. Either, she pities him that he has been so disabled or she is looking at him in pity because he has lost some of his honor and dignity. I think that both of these would cause her glance to be grave and thoughtful. Aragorn notices her disposition. He sees her as fair, but cold, “like a morning of pale spring that is not yet come to womanhood.” (The King of the Golden Hall) She is a young woman, and she is trapped in the winter of despair. Because of this observation, Eowyn appears to be the quintessential damsel-in-distress and Aragorn is the hero that must save her. One could argue that she notices this as well when she sees him.

“And she now was suddenly aware of him: tall heir of kings, wise and with many winters, greycloaked, hiding a power that yet she felt. For a moment still as stone she stood, then turning swiftly she was gone.”(The King of the Golden Hall)

She has identified that he is everything that she wants to be. In real-time, this exchange would have only happened in a few seconds. There is so much energy built up in that one look, it has to be significant. And it is important, but not in the way that I had originally imagined. When I was younger, I read it as a direct sign that they would fall in love, but rather it harkens to the fact that she feels trapped and will do anything to get out of that entrapment. 

            It doesn’t take long for Aragorn to realize that he enamors her, and he is concerned by this quick turn of events, whether that is because he will not love her in return or because he sees something dark in her. Eowyn is presenting a cup of wine to him when he first seems to recognize this phenomenon.

“As she stood before Aragorn she paused suddenly and looked upon him, and her eyes were shining. And he looked down upon her fair face and smiled; but as he took the cup, his hand met hers, and he knew that she trembled at the touch. […] his face now was troubled and he did not smile.”(The King of the Golden Hall)

Now, this could be interpreted in a couple different ways. Aragorn could be concerned that her heart will be broken when he does not love her back. Or, he could have recognized something else that dwells deep within her—he is a man of wisdom and so it is possible to think that he saw the despair and desire for honor in her. It is interesting to me that it is in the touch of a hand that he could have potentially realized so much in her and later we learn that he has the hands of a healer—perhaps he sensed that there was something that needed healing. She seems to become obsessed with him. When she is dubbed Shieldmaiden of Rohan, she says, “’A year shall I endure for every day that passes until your return.’ But as she spoke her eyes went to Aragorn who stood nearby.” (The King of the Golden Hall) This is not a very subtle hint, she’s going to miss him and she doesn’t even know him. But then, she doesn’t want to be left behind, she wants to fight beside these men of renown. As the group leaves Edoras,

“Aragorn looked back as they passed towards the gate. Alone Eowyn stood before the doors of the house at the stair’s head; the sword was set upright before her, and her hands were laid upon the hilt. She was clad now in mail and shone like silver in the sun.”(The King of the Golden Hall)

She is longing to join them, why else would she don the garments of war?  He sees her as a solitary woman, left behind as the last defense Edoras. “Far over the plain Eowyn saw the glitter of their spears, as she stood still, alone before the doors of the silent house.” (The King of the Golden Hall) She is left to be alone and surrounded in silence. This image doesn’t seem to be too terrible at first, but then, when one looks into her future in the books, you see that this could be the start of something else—something far worse. Or maybe, it’s the first sign of life from a seed that has been lying dormant for far too long. 

            The return of Aragorn from the Battle of Helm’s Deep with the Dunedain in “The Return of the King” is the first time the reader sees Eowyn in a long time, and she is all the more eager to join the war after that victory—she wants to be able to take part in that esteem. It is written, “for no mightier men had she seen than the Dunedain and the fair sons of Elrond; but on Aragorn most of all her eyes rested.” (The Passing of the Grey Company) The time and distance did not change her attitude towards him. She absorbs everything they will tell her of the battle with great eagerness. When Aragorn tells her that they will not be staying longer than one night because their road is an urgent one, at first she believes that they came to Edoras because he wanted to see her. He has to tell her, albeit gently, that he has not come to see her, but that his road brings him her way. She is appalled that he means to take the Paths of the Dead. She says to him, “I beg you to remain and ride with my brother; for then all our hearts will be gladdened, and our hope be the brighter.” (Eowyn, The Passing of the Grey Company) She doesn’t seem to understand his path has been appointed, and that he must go by the Paths of the Dead to Minas Tirith. It is interesting, she is concerned that he is riding to his death, but she seems more concerned that he is not riding to an honorable death in battle. She finally lets her desire to fight come to light.

“You are a stern lord and resolute and thus do men win renown. Lord, if you must go, then let me ride in your following. For I am weary of skulking in the hills, and wish to face peril and battle.”(Eowyn, The Passing of the Grey Company)

She wants to ride to battle so she can prove her worth. Aragorn reminds her that she has a duty to her people—a responsibility that must be upheld. She finally admits that she does not want to be left behind any longer, she doesn’t want to be protected from war, she grows weary of waiting for the return of the men.

“A time may come soon, when none will return. Then there will be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.”(Aragorn, The Passing of the Grey Company)

 He basically tells her that her place in Edoras is just as noble as one on the battlefield, because when it comes right down to it she will be the one that picks up the pieces should all the warriors fall. He wants her to realize her place in the world is important too. 

            Eowyn’s “place” in the world is her biggest fear—she is a strong woman, but there is one thing that causes her fear.

“All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.”(Eowyn, The Passing of the Grey Company)

She is not afraid to fight, she is not afraid to die. This is quite possibly the strongest voice in “The Lord of the Rings” against the oppression of women. It is interesting that it even comes up in such a “boys book.” Tolkien does seem to be saying that it is wrong to just expect women to stay home and do nothing—but he also says that there is honor in that role. Aragorn seems perplexed, or at least curious, by this and asks what she does fear. “A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.” (Eowyn, The Passing of the Grey Company)              

          This proclamation finally circles back to her disapproval of Aragorn’s quest to the Paths of the Dead. She says that she only did not wish to see “a thing that is high and excellent cast away needlessly.” (Eowyn, The Passing of the Grey Company) Aragorn tells her that he does not want to see that either, and that is why he implores her to stay. He even tells her she has no errand in the South—which, when you think about it, she really did, it just wasn’t something he could recognize or see at the time. She tells him that the others that go with him have no errand in the South either but that, “They go only because they would not be parted from thee—because they love thee.” (Eowyn, The Passing of the Grey Company) And then she’s gone for the night. All along it has been a combination of her wanting to earn renown and also in loving him. 

            In the morning, she begs him yet again to let her ride with him, and it is with pain that he tells her she cannot. He did not look back as he rode away, “and only those who knew him well and were near to him saw the pain that he bore.” (The Passing of the Grey Company) Aragorn wants to let her come with him, he understands what she wants, but it is not something he can give to her. She is traumatized at this dismissal. Perhaps she thought that he would be the one to give her a chance to earn her title because he is a man of action. “When they were lost to view, she turned, stumbling as one that is blind, and went back to her lodging.” (The Passing of the Grey Company) She is devastated to be left behind again. 

            The arrival of King Theoden and Eomer shows her ready for battle again, perhaps an attempt to cover up how she is really feeling, or perhaps a statement that she will not be left behind again. When Theoden asks her how she is, she says that she is well. Merry gets a different impression though. “…yet it seemed to Merry that her voice belied her, and he would have thought that she had been weeping, if that could be believed of one so stern of face.” (The Muster of Rohan) He isn’t the only one to notice, Theoden mentions that she seems grieved at Aragorn’s passing into the Paths of the Dead. Merry has become an esquire of Rohan, and Aragorn has requested to Eowyn that he be clad for battle. She provides him with all that he will need, and tells him, “Yet maybe we shall meet again, you and I.” (Eowyn, The Muster of Rohan) When Merry is told that he will be left behind he too is distraught—he and Eowyn have that in common. She approaches him in the guise of a man, and offers to take him on her horse. Together, they ride to Minas Tirith in secret. For both of them, all of their friends have gone to war and they would not be left behind. 

            Both Merry and Eowyn were doubted, but they were both destined to do something great. Merry doesn’t realize that it is Eowyn he is riding with until they come up against the Witch King. Eowyn is defending King Theoden’s fallen body—she will do anything to prevent the winged-beast from feasting on his flesh—when the Witch King tells her that no living man can hinder him.

“But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Eowyn I am, Eomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.”(Eowyn, The Battle of the Pelennor Fields)

 At this speech, Merry realizes that the man he was riding with was in fact the Shieldmaiden, “But the helm of her secrecy had fallen from her, and her bright hair, released from its bonds, gleamed with pale gold upon her shoulders. Her eyes grey as the sea were hard and fell, and yet tears were on her cheek.” (The Battle of the Pelennor Fields) She is finally doing what she has always desired—to die in honor and in battle. Merry rises up to help her, for he does not think that one so beautiful should die alone or unaided. Eowyn manages to kill the winged-beast, and a blow from the Witch King breaks her arm. Merry stabs him in the back of the “leg.” In his moment of distraction, she is able to plunge her sword into what would be his head. And so, Eowyn and Merry slay the Witch King, a mighty foe that no man could kill. She lies near death on the field of battle while Merry is able to talk to Theoden before he dies as well. 

            If one had any doubt of Eomer’s love for his sister, it is put to rest swiftly when he finds her “dead.” As a reader, I felt my heart break for him in that moment. I cannot imagine what I would do if my brother was killed in battle, and I didn’t even know he was there…much stronger would that pain be, I think, for a brother who lost a sister.

“He stood a moment as a man who is pierced in the midst of a cry by an arrow through the heart; and then his face went deathly white, and a cold fury rose in him so that all speech failed him for a while. A fey mood took him.”(The Battle of the Pelennor Fields)

He does not take the loss lightly, and rides off into the thick of battle again, perhaps seeking his own death because of the loss of everything he loved. It is fortunate for him that another looked to his sister and saw that she was not dead, but only near death. 

            Eowyn’s wounds were far deeper than just the bodily wounds she suffered at the hand of the Witch King—there were preexisting wounds. The healers at the Houses of Healing were not able to revive her, though her physical wounds were fairly simple. Gandalf says, “For it is only in the coming of Aragorn that any hope remains for the sick that lie in the House.” (The Houses of Healing) Even Aragorn was troubled by her illness, “Here there is a grievous hurt and a heavy blow.” (Aragorn, The Houses of Healing) It is here that Aragorn tries to identify what the deep-rooted problem is with the help of Gandalf and Eomer. He begins musing over what he had already perceived from her as he spoke to her in the earlier chapters.

“When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die? Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not Eomer?”(Aragorn, The Houses of Healing)

Eomer seems to be oblivious to this winter that she was dwelling in. He tells Aragorn and Gandalf that he had not perceived any frost until she saw Aragorn—the man that she wanted to be, essentially. He says that yes, she was distressed about the state of the King, but it was nothing serious enough to cause this kind of malady. Gandalf reminds him that he had other things to do to take his mind off of his uncle,

“…you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on. […] But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?”(Gandalf, The Houses of Healing)

She did not having anything in which to channel her energy. There was nothing for her to distract herself with. Her own self-view was so low that she didn’t think she was worth more than a piece of wood…how sad is that? Gandalf suspects that she felt she was something wild that needed to be caged in, and that all the men around her were causing her to believe this. Aragorn admits to thinking it was more related to himself, “Few other griefs amid the ill chances of this world have more bitterness and shame for a man’s heart than to behold the love of a lady so fair and brave that cannot be returned.” (Aragorn, The Houses of Healing) He was deeply saddened that he could not give her what she sought. He tells Eomer that he pitied her, and feared for her more than anything while he traveled the Paths of the Dead.

“And yet, Eomer, I say to you that she loves you more truly than me; for you she loves and knows; but in me she loves only a shadow and a thought: a hope of glory and great deeds, and lands far from the fields of Rohan. […] But to what she will awake: hope, or forgetfulness, or despair, I do not know. And if to despair, then she will die, unless other healing comes which I cannot bring. Alas! for her deeds have set her among the queens of great renown.”(Aragorn, the Houses of Healing)

Eowyn was in love with him because of what he was and what he stood for, not because of who he was. She is finally what she has always wanted to be—remembered for some great deed. It isn’t until Eomer calls to her that she awakens. They all wait with bated breath to see what she is like now that she is no longer slumbering. Gandalf tells her, “But do not speak yet of war or woe, until you are made whole again. Great gladness it is to see you awake again to health and hope, so valiant a lady!” (The Houses of Healing) Eowyn admits that she is “healthy” again, “But to hope? I do not know.” (Eowyn, The Houses of Healing)  

            It is not until she meets Faramir that she is truly healed from all her maladies. They are both being kept in the Houses of Healing until they are well, and while she thinks that she is well, she is not. Her heart still longs to be doing great deeds. Faramir remarks that they have both been under the Shadow and that the same hand, Aragorn’s, drew them from it. To which she replies, “Shadow lies on me still.” (The Steward and the King) So it seems that she did wake to despair, and waits for other healing. It becomes very obvious right away that Faramir is taken by her. He knows that she is waiting for the return of Aragorn—she has been waiting seven days.

“But think not ill of me, if I say to you: they have brought me both a joy and a pain that I never thought to know. Joy to see you; but pain, because now the fear and doubt of this evil time are grown dark indeed. Eowyn, I would not have this world end now, or lose so soon what I have found.”(Faramir, The Steward and the King)

 Eowyn is able to be completely honest with him, though she pretends to be baffled by his statement—the reader knows that he has found her and does not wish to lose her. She is able to admit, “I stand upon some dreadful brink, and it is utterly dark in the abyss before my feet, but whether there is any light behind me I cannot tell. For I cannot turn yet. I wait for some stroke of doom.” (Eowyn, The Steward and The King) Finally the stroke falls, and it does not seem as though darkness will be able to hold much more of a grip on Middle Earth—Faramir expresses this before kissing her brow. And in that moment the Shadow departs and the Sun is able to shine again. During this time together we learn that she does seek pity, though pity is what she receives from many but not Faramir. He understands her better than she seems to understand herself.

“You desired to have the love of the Lord Aragorn. Because he was high and puissant, and you wished to have renown and glory and to be lifted far above the mean things that crawl on the earth. And as a great captain may to a young soldier he seemed to you admirable. For so he is, a lord among men, the greatest that now it. But when he gave you only understanding and pity, then you desired to have nothing, unless a brave death in battle. […] Do not scorn pity that is a gift of a gentle heart, Eowyn! But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful […] And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you.”(Faramir, The Steward and the King)

What a speech. Now, if Eowyn had not had a change of heart after that, I doubt she would be one of my personal favorite characters. In that moment, she throws off the Shadow that surrounded her, and she is once again in the Sun. They agree to be married, and Faramir is able to say, “Here is the Lady Eowyn of Rohan, and now she is healed.” (The Steward and the King) She decides to stay in the Houses of Healing for a time and help those that must still remain there, for she finally has hope again. 

            Eowyn is able to be happy, and she has found herself. Tolkien speaks to feminism in an interesting way. Really, he presents both sides. The reader is able to understand why she is the way she is—seeking for something more than to be just a woman of the house. On the other hand, I am also able to see where Aragorn is coming from. No matter what her lot in life, she is important—for all things must be done. In a way, Tolkien is also speaking to the issue of identity crisis. Eowyn didn’t really know who she was, or what she was supposed to be doing. She knew what she wanted, but she didn’t see her own worth. The last thing Aragorn says to Eowyn is, “I have wished you joy ever since I first saw thee. It heals my heart to see thee now in bliss.” (Many Partings) And so the reader watches this transformation of a woman so utterly lost to a woman of complete bliss. She is probably my favorite character because she does overcome her own self-doubts, and in the end she is able to live in peace. 

I hope you all enjoyed it... There are enough quotes throughout, you probably don't need another one at the end of the post.

You raise me up...

Thinking about family this morning.

It hurts a lot when someone you love is so badly wounded--spiritually, emotionally, and physically.

You ask yourself: "What could I have done to prevent this? Could I have reached out to her more? Could I have made sure she had someone in her life that would listen without judging? Why wasn't I there for her? Why didn't I step up to the plate? When she contacted me, why didn't I follow up?"

And then you make the decision: "In the future, I will be there for her. I will make an effort to be a light in her pain. I will do everything I can to protect someone that is older than me...but that doesn't mean I can't fight beside her. I will tell her whenever I can that I love her--always have, even when we were so distant from who we used to be. And I will pray for her regularly, often, and fervently."

That future? It starts today. Today, I start fighting an "elephant."

"There is no life - no life without its hunger; Each restless heart beats so imperfectly; But when you come and I am filled with wonder, sometimes, I think I glimpse eternity." [Selah, is the version that I know, but I think Josh Groban actually wrote the song? Maybe?]

Let it rain

I'm in a strange "funk."

It's been a bad week so far; nothing horribly bad, just a lot of little bads.

I've been battling within myself for days now, and I'm still learning what exactly it is that I'm fighting against. The funny thing? All my usual "weapons" aren't working. What are those things? Writing poetry, it's great reliever for me, and it has taken me four-five days to finally get something out that wasn't straight up awful. Reading my Bible, I was reading the words but not actually listening to them. Writing out my prayers, nothing I said really hit what I was feeling. Reading a good book, nothing felt right.

And then, some out of the ordinary things happened to me yesterday and today and it has made me feel better... So I'm going to make a list. Because I feel like it, and I don't normally make lists, and the not-normal has been helping. So here we go:

1. I walked down the narrow stairs outside of Jesse Hall after work yesterday because my boss suggested it. I love those stairs... they're so... old looking. (And totally sturdy.) I was able to put my hand on the iron railing and just be present in that time... a time that doesn't seem to exist anymore. So, when it gets warmer... I may start making one of those stairwells my writing home, and I am very excited about that endeavor. And I will probably be sad to leave it when summer starts.

2. Bob Olson, one of the guys that works for buildings and grounds (he's also our resident set builder; aka: set god), was working on the stairwell (inside) in Jesse... which is why I had to take the elevator and was then "forced" to take my timeless stairwell outside. When I got to the cafeteria to drop off some tickets for the One Acts, he was in there taking a quick coffee break. I stopped to talk to him a little bit, ribbing him about making me take the elevator. It turned into one of the best conversations ever. After we talked about campus a little, he asked me about how my year was going and how my classes were, and remembered from a previous conversation (like two semesters ago) that I was a creative writing-emphasis English major. And he asked me about grad schools. And he told me about some of the stuff he has worked on... I'm blown away by the man's talent. I don't know how old he is, but he's not a spring chicken and he still talks about how he'll get around to getting his children's books published "someday." I made the comment to him that he is such a busy bee, he probably deserves some time off just to rest. He looked at me and said, "I think it's a sin to waste ones talents." Woah. It hit me between the eyes. How many days do I waste my God-given talents? More than I care to admit. I am thankful for Bob. He's a wonderful man, and if you ever get a chance to talk to him, you Concordians, do it. Please. You'll end up a better person for it.

3. When I left the cafeteria, it had started to rain. A little. Big drops, but not a lot falling. I was worried about my laptop. And then I was thinking about how, if it weren't for my laptop, I would have really enjoyed that walk. Just as I stepped under the awning of the building I was walking to, it started raining a lot heavier. I turned around and looked up at the sky, and I thought, "God, You're awesome, and thank you for not making that happen until I got under the awning." Now, yes, I realize that God probably didn't really care about my laptop just then, and surely it started raining harder on other people who weren't under the awning, so it is flawed thinking to believe that He held off the rain until I was safe...but it was a nice coincidence.

4. I gave one of my professors a hug. She has been a true inspiration to me, and while we are not learning together, we are learning simultaneously what it is to let go of dead weight. (This is part of what I've been fighting against lately, I think.) We've been fighting our elephants. In that embrace, I felt my own burdens lift just a little, and not because words were spoken, but because love was shared. And that can make all the difference. She is a blessing to me, and I thank God that I am able to be in her class. And I look forward to this summer and taking an independent study with her. There will be much writing, some laughing, some crying, and much presence. I am excited to simply be with her reading over my shoulder, so to speak.

5. Talking to a friend I haven't seen in a while at lunch today ended up being one of the most refreshing experiences. We tend to get into these routines, and the routines turn into ruts. I have been eating lunch with approximately the same people for over two months now. I love them. But it was good to break away, hear something new, and laugh. I mean laugh. At something I hadn't already heard five times, or thought about twenty times. It was good, and just what I needed.

Five is a good number, even though it's not technically "round," it's round in my head. Five not-normal things that have made all the difference.

So, let it rain, and let it storm, because I need some nourishment in this twisted heart of mine.

"In a dry and thirsty land, Lord, You are the rain." [Casting Crowns]