Christmas 2023, Part 2

On Christmas Eve, we gathered for Plowman family dinner at Biz's and Jeff's home in West Bountiful. We had all the fixings for a Christmas dinner, including ham, candied yams, funeral potatoes, charcuterie, meatballs, and other goodies.

Dinner was followed by our annual Christmas story pageant. The niblings enthusiastically dressed up as shepherds, wise men, angels, stable animals, and of course Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus. In fact, six-year-old Tanner got a little too into the part of playing the baby, seen here resting (and cooing?) in the lap of his three-year-old sister Sadie, who portrayed Mary:

As always, the kids had a wonderful time taking part. As part of the pageant, we continued the family tradition of listening to Dad's recording of the Christmas story as found in chapter of the gospel of St. Luke.

Perhaps we began a new tradition by also playing a recording of Mom reading The Monster at the End of This Book, a family favorite since my siblings and I were very young, while Biz turned the pages in the story. We collectively felt her loss rather acutely during this holiday season and on this particular night, too, but I think this moment helped many of us to feel she wasn't really that far away from us.

In fact, it gives me a great deal of comfort to think that if she weren't already one of the angels who sang at the birth of the Christ child 2,000+ years ago that she is one of those angels singing His praises now.

Next came the exchanging of gifts. The niblings drew names from a hat to purchase gifts for each other, while my siblings and I did the same for each couple in the family. This way, everybody got to open at least one thing. Sadie was especially grateful for and protective of her Frozen action figure set:

Then followed a few family games, including a new one, "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Cup," that Biz borrowed from the Johnson Files, one of our favorite Instagram accounts. You had to be there to grasp what exactly this involved—but it was fun for all who played.

Christmas Day was, well, a rather lazy day at our house. Santa Claus came and left goodies, and JB and I exchanged gifts, too. My wife is very thoughtful when it comes to this sort of thing. One of my favorite presents was this T-shirt, based on The Lord of the Rings book/film series:

Hopefully, your Christmas was a good one spent with your own loved ones, too. If not, here's hoping for better times ahead and a better year for us all in 2024.

Solitude

Toward the end of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, the burden of carrying the ring has already taken its toll on poor Frodo. Boromir approaches him and says:

"I know why you seek solitude. You suffer; I see it day by day. You sure you do not suffer needlessly? There are other ways, Frodo, other paths that we might take."

I know of a surety that the Dementors in the Harry Potter universe, for example, represent J.K. Rowling's own battle with depression during her life. I think this is quite an accurate representation. I don't, however, know all of the symbolism involved in the One Ring and its ill effects on Frodo's body and soul in the LOTR trilogy, though many comparisons that can be made to depression, as well as to chronic pain and other challenges.

One of the end results for many who battle depression, indeed, is to seek solitude. It has happened rather subtly over the years, but I see it in my own life when I don't even realize I'm seeking out solitude. Or, in other words, to just be left alone.

Some nights, I'm just not up for the social scene. I can't do it. Perhaps that's why I'm here alone on a Monday night pouring these thoughts onto a blog that maybe a few dozen will read, and that part doesn't really matter; I mainly write for myself so my brain doesn't explode under the weight of the ring I carry myself.

The irony, to me, is that much of the time, and in the big picture, I don't like to be alone nor do I want to ultimately be alone, either. I'm reminded of this weekly with my friends and colleagues on the Island of Misfit Toys, most of who crave companionship and are doing everything they can think of to remedy the situation, often ending in disappointment. (I say "most"; but that is a topic for another day and post.)

The Lord alone knows how very many, many times I have prayed, wished, sacrificed, gone out of my comfort zone to meet new people, and have tried time and again to improve my own situation. Sometimes, I feel when a relationship ends that all I'm left with is the option of disappointing someone new, and that's as good as things may ever get. That I just can't wait to get hurt again. But I am where I am nevertheless, though not through a lack of trying.

Fortunately, Boromir was right about one thing: There are other paths you can take, even though it requires a great deal of patience. And the righteous desires of our heart do matter, in spite of our imperfections and not seeing the results we want when we want to see them.

"For I, the Lord, will judge all men according to their works, according to the desire of their hearts" (D&C 137:8-9).

Where am I going with this? I don't rightly know. It's still a long walk to Mordor.

Only a Passing Thing, This Shadow

"Frodo: I don't suppose we'll ever see them again.
Sam: We may yet, Mr. Frodo. We may."
 -The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

I sure do love my Star Wars franchise. It's by far my favorite movie series. I've seen Episode VII, The Force Awakens, nine times now over the past two months since its release on December 18. Yes, I'm a special kind of nerd. In my eyes, it's a wonderful sequel and a cinematic triumph.

To those who know me, none of this is surprising news in the least.

Followed very closely behind my love for the Star Wars movies is that of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, adapted from the novels by J.R.R. Tolkien. The Hobbit prequel trilogy of 2012-2014 was good but not great. However, the LOTR movies are masterpieces, and they improve for me upon each subsequent viewing, extended edition or not.

My favorite character in the films, hands down, is Samwise Gamgee, played by Sean Astin also of Goonies and Rudy fame. Samwise the Brave is exactly the kind of best friend everyone wants, and his qualities are manifest in many of those I'm lucky to have in my life.

I'm not ashamed to admit that his speech to Frodo at the end of The Two Towers tugs at my heartstrings every time. Over the past week, I've thought more than once upon his words:


"Frodo: I can't do this, Sam.
Sam: I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something."
Frodo: What are we holding onto, Sam?
Sam: That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo . . . and it's worth fighting for."

This is deep on so many levels, and I honestly don't remember how much of it was written by Tolkien in the books and how much was penned by the screenwriters. As someone who suffers from depression and anxiety, I find lessons in these words that I need to be reminded of when times get dark and things may look hopeless, as they often did to Frodo with the burden he carried.

When I, like Frodo, feel like "I can't do this," I need Sam's voice in my head reminding me that this challenge is "only a passing thing, this shadow." That whether or not I want the difficulty I face, I face it nonetheless ("we shouldn't even be here, but we are"), and I do not do so alone. That the sun "will shine out the clearer" on a better day. That "even darkness must pass."

Whoever wrote the words, they are beautifully put. Thank heavens for the brave Sams who help me along my journey.