The Fellowship of the Story.

['I wish it need not have happened in my time,' said Frodo.
'So do I,' said Gandalf, 'and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for me to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.']

['And now', said the wizard, turning back to Frodo, 'the decision lies with you. But I will always help you.' He laid his hand on Frodo's shoulder. 'I will help you bear this burden, as long as it is yours to bear.']

['I will take the Ring,' he said, 'though I do not know the way.']

-J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

I have been lost in another world as of late. I read The Hobbit earlier this summer, which was enjoyable, but I have been consumed by the Fellowship of The Ring. I started it Tuesday, and find myself reading every chance I have. Like so many other books, so many other stories, I'm drawn in. I forget what's going on around me.

When I was younger I used to sit in our living room and read, so lost in the pages on my lap that I would fail to hear questions, to the great annoyance of my family. Dorky, but true, I used to read while walking the aisles of the super market with my Mother. I found myself reading while walking down the street to the library a few weeks ago too while I was reading Mudhouse Sabbath. Some things never change.

I love story. Tolkien writes, 'They [elves] seem to like them [music, poetry and tales] as much as food, or more.' Now, for myself, that's a close race between tales and food, and I don't think I have quite an 'elvish appetite' for music, poetry and tales. But I love them all the same. As I've been drowning in Tolkien's words, I want to fall in love with another Story. Tolkien's chronicle is laden with the themes of this other Story, dripping in symbolism, turning me back to it.

What about God's story? Am I enthralled in it? Can I not wait to turn the page? Does my light stay on at night as my eyes strain and droop because I cannot wait to uncover another history, taste another adventure?

And then I began to think about my life. My story. But here's what I came to. It's not my story at all. I'm so wrapped up in wanting to write my own adventures. Wanting to pen my own tales. At then end of the day though, they will merely be words on a page. Here's the thing, it's about my chapter in a story that's far bigger, older, longer, greater and more beautiful than anything I could come up with. My story matters, but only when read in the context of His. When fitted and grafted into the tales before mine and the chapters to come after, and the ones being written now. Then my small story is rich and meaningful.

I was pondering this, watching the sun setting over the suburbs and a plane flew over head. I watched the blinking lights, secretly wishing I was on it. Going somewhere. Anywhere. I watched it. And then the sound came. Quietly at first, and then rushing upon me after the plane had all but passed. When planes are not in view, you have to wait until you hear the roar of their engines before you can find its path. Sometimes I think I can see where my story is going. And sometimes I just need to wait until I hear it.

It's not my story.
It's God's story.
And I'm waiting.
Trying to wait.
To hear what's next.