Write them on the tablet of your heart.
Say to wisdom, “You are my sister,”
And call understanding your intimate friend;"
(Proverbs 7:3-4, NASB)
Unlike the fairy stories, we don't just stumble on a magical device that solves all of our problems. We have to WORK at getting the wisdom and understanding we need when the dragon descends on our village and burns it to the ground. And we have to start LONG before he gets there.
I cannot find my copy of 'The Hobbit' in this catastrophe of a bookcase, laden with everything from textbooks to Torgersen. So, would somebody who can find their copy locate the short speech the archer makes to his arrow, right before he kills Smaug, and post it in the comments? I just want to make the point that his act wasn't a spur-of-the-moment event.
Just part of my reason to love e-books....
Umm, this morning, I was SUPPOSED to meet an obligation to my 13 year-old son Kenneth. However, I was in a good bit of pain last night, and didn't fall asleep until the early morning hours, and so I blew it off. Kenneth is going to be 14 in a week; I don't have THAT many parenting hours left.
Who knows how long he will be agreeable? He is, right now.
This is one of those tough times associated with the otherwise delightful task of being a 65-year-old parent to a middle-schooler. On the whole, it's a decided advantage to have the wisdom and experience I have gathered over three and a half decades of being a parent. Sometimes, though, as was the case this morning, Decrepit shows up and whispers temptation in my ear.
There WAS a solution I didn't take because I got uppity, though, and refused to give in. That was to take another pain pill; I was well below the limit. I've got this stupid competition going with chronic pain, though, and I demand that I beat it every single time. This time, it cost me one of those hours.
So I resolve: do what I gotta do in order to sleep; and if I can't sleep, then stay awake the next morning. It won't be the first time I've survived a sleepless night, not by a long shot.
I need time with my kids more than I need to sleep in.
Peace be on your household.
"Arrow!" said the bowman. "Black arrow! I have saved you to the last. You have never failed me and always I have recovered you. I had you from my father and he from of old. If ever you came from the forges of the true king under the Mountain, go now and speed well!"
ReplyDeleteHere is the whole bit...
ReplyDelete~
But there was still a company of archers that held their ground among the burning houses. Their
captain was Bard, grim-voiced and grim-faced, whose friends had accused him of prophesying floods
and poisoned fish, though they knew his worth and courage. He was a descendant in long line of
Girion, Lord of Dale, whose wife and child had escaped down the Running River from the ruin long
ago. Now he shot with a great yew bow, till all his arrows but one were spent. The flames were near
him. His companions were leaving him. He bent his bow for the last time.
Suddenly out of the dark something fluttered to his shoulder. He started — but it was only an old
thrush. Unafraid it perched by his ear and it brought him news. Marvelling he found he could
understand its tongue, for he was of the race of Dale.
“Wait! Wait!” it said to him. “The moon is rising. Look for the hollow of the left breast as he flies
and turns above you!” And while Bard paused in wonder it told him of tidings up in the Mountain and
of all that it had heard.
Then Bard drew his bow-string to his ear. The dragon was circling back, flying low, and as he came
the moon rose above the eastern shore and silvered his great wings.
“Arrow!” said the bowman. “Black arrow! I have saved you to the last. You have never failed me
and always I have recovered you. I had you from my father and he from of old. If ever you came from
the forges of the true king under the Mountain, go now and speed well!”
The dragon swooped once more lower than ever, and as he turned and dived down his belly
glittered white with sparkling fires of gems in the moon — but not in one place. The great bow
twanged. The black arrow sped straight from the string, straight for the hollow by the left breast where
the foreleg was flung wide. In it smote and vanished, barb, shaft and feather, so fierce was its flight.
With a shriek that deafened men, felled trees and split stone, Smaug shot spouting into the air, turned
over and crashed down from on high in ruin.
Full on the town he fell. His last throes splintered it to sparks and gledes. The lake roared in. A vast
steam leaped up, white in the sudden dark under the moon. There was a hiss, a gushing whirl, and then
silence. And that was the end of Smaug and Esgaroth, but not of Bard.
Yep, that's it!
DeleteHe doesn't just tumble onto it, like Bilbo does with the Ring, but it was his by virtue of inheritance, devotion, and effort.
And I believe that is a better representation of how WE arrive at our super-powers, like parenting and being a good spouse.
But that's merely one man's opinion.....
Please do keep in mind that you can't care for anyone if you don't care for yourself first.
ReplyDeleteThat, too, is wisdom.