The One Ring

It just so happened that the opening of the second Lord of the Rings trilogy of movies coincided with the day that my kiddos and I were leaving to go skiing in Colorado. To say that my children were disappointed that they wouldn't get to see the film on opening night is a huge understatement. You'd think that the excitement of going skiing for a week in the beautiful mountain town of Winter Park would have far surpassed going to see a movie, but as is so often true with kids, they wanted to do both. We were planning to stop and spend the night in western Kansas on the Friday that we left, so I did a bit of research and found a town that had a movie theater that was showing The Two Towers film. Well ... it was almost a theater anyway ... I think it might have had 50 seats and looked to be around a century or so old. We went to a late-night showing, and the one thing I remember most vividly is that I slept through a good part of the movie ... but my children had a great time, and that's what really mattered most to me.

On Saturday morning, I was looking for something in my mom's old pink jewelry box when I came across my high school class ring ... silver with a blue starburst stone, with a lion on one side and 77 (the year I graduated), flags and RB (Red Bank) on the other, and my initials engraved on the inside. As I sat on my bed and looked at my ring, I instantly remembered the day I got it and how proud I was of that ring ... not because it was extra fancy or cost a lot of money ... it was actually one of the more simple, least expensive class ring options ... I was proud of the ring because it signified one of the great rites of passage in life ... graduating from high school. Turning the ring over and over in my hand, I had a thought ... I wonder if this ring would fit my finger again since I've lost so much weight. I took off the ring I wear on my right hand and slipped my old high school ring over my knuckle and onto my finger. I couldn't help but smile ... not only did it slide onto my finger easily, it was even a little loose. Things sure didn't turn out the way I thought they would when I was in high school, I thought as I gazed at the ring ... I thought I would be a writer and work for a small-town newspaper, maybe even become a columnist one day like Erma Bombeck. I thought I would find someone to spend the rest of my life with ... I thought I would travel the world ... I thought I would be forever young and carefree.

I spent most of the weekend curled up on my couch watching all three Lord of the Rings movies ... that's a lot of hours of hobbits and orcs and wizards. My favorite by far of the three films is the final one, The Return of the King ... it's the one where good finally triumphs over evil, the one where Frodo finally destroys the One ring in the fires of Mount Doom. The One ring ... it was the ring with all the power, the power to turn good men into power-hungry, murderous, evil ones. It was the ring that controlled all of the other rings ... it was the one that contained within it the power of life and death. Carrying the One ring was a burden for Frodo, one that drained him physically and emotionally, and in fact, came dangerously close to claiming his life. For all the lessons in the film and all the great lines, I think the greatest lesson of all comes near the end of the movie ... a lesson of the real meaning of love and sacrifice. Frodo is ready to give up and admit defeat ... he's exhausted, hungry and weak, and he tells his friend Samwise that it's over, that the burden of the ring is too much for him to carry any further. Samwise begins to remind Frodo of their home and where they came from. And then he utters the line that brings tears to my eyes each time I hear it ... "Then let us be rid of it ... once and for all! Come on, Mr. Frodo. I can't carry it for you ... but I can carry you!"

Maybe there's a reason, Lord, that I found my old ring and that I've been musing about rings of power. Maybe I need to contemplate where my true home is ... maybe I need to ponder where I've come from ... maybe I need to understand that sometimes the only way to make it up the mountain is when we carry one another. Maybe I should wear my ring for a few days, Lord ... maybe I should.