Embracing My Inner Hobbit

Today, a cashier told me that I seemed “really down-to-Earth,” and I decided to take it as a compliment.  A few years ago, however, that would not have been the case. I used to think that caring about the “higher things” meant yearning for a sort of grand existence, feeling destined for greatness.  Recently, I have come to learn the beauty and importance of a simple life, and to accept that there is more than one way to defend what is good and true.

When I was a girl, my role-models were often feisty heroines: monster-slayers, woman warriors, renegade princesses, and enchantresses. As a Tolkien fan, I considered myself a kindred spirit with Eowyn, ready to shake off the confines of what was expected for me, avenge my kinfolk, and kill myself a witch king.   I thought that in order to be a powerful woman, I had to change the world in some big way.  There was evil in the world, and I was going to conquer it head-on. And everyone was going to know about it (and preferably write me into a ballad.)

In reality, my life has taken a path which few would call heroic or great. I spend three hundred and sixty-five days a year changing diapers, wiping noses, cleaning, and cooking. I have found no demons to conquer but my own, and have made no visible difference in the world. And yet, I have also changed my perspective both on myself and on greatness.

It has not been a matter of settling, but rather of seeing myself clearly. I find that I am, deep down, more of hobbit than a warrior princess. Hobbits are creatures who take pleasure in a simple life and simple work. Unlike men, dwarves, or elves, they seldom fight epic battles, hoard untold treasures, make great art, or rule vast kingdoms. Although they may be common in comparison, hobbits are no strangers to beauty. They cultivate beauty in home and hearth, in family and friendship, and in story and song.

The heroes of Middle-Earth fought to defend the lifestyle the hobbits fostered.  Hobbits, if nothing else, are the homiest of creatures.  They belong to each other and are rooted in a place.  A hobbit, male or female, is a home maker.  Theirs is the good life to which every wanderer wishes to return, but does not begrudge; because as long as the Shire is safe, there is goodness worth defending.

As I let go of my need to be the heroine and my insistence that I dramatically change the world, I find that my role as a mother, to cultivate beauty in a simple life through the care of souls and bodies, is, in itself, a great task.  While I have not lost my respect for world-shakers and dragon-slayers, I have come to understand that home-maker is a worthy title as well.

Like the hobbits, I am trying to create a culture of merry laughter, good company, simplicity, and peace.  I want to give my family a sense of belonging, both to an earthly and heavenly home. While tending to their bodies, I am also daily working the soil of their minds and spirits. I am instilling in them an understanding and love of the true, the good, and the beautiful.  In this, my own small way, I am taking my part in the story and am content.

And if, one day, I am called to a grander part, asked to participate in uncomfortable adventures, I pray I will be ready to give up the simple, joyful, homey life I have come to love so well.  For although it is beautiful, it is only a reflection of the perfect simplicity and joy of that eternal home, for which we may be asked to give up everything.

We are each called to make a difference in the lives of others. Some of us are called to great, visible sacrifice, to the loud, outward defense of faith and the tearing down of terrifying evil.  Others are called to live a life of small sacrifices, of quieter courage, and of Mother Teresa’s “small things done with great love.” Whatever our life may look like to others, none of us is too small to change the world for Christ.