Focusing on My Rivendell (Home)

I’m here, waiting on college admissions to get back to me on a glitch that lets my kid register for 9 credits, but not a full-time load. I need someone to push a button.  I’m waiting for the financial aid office to get back to me on the surprise word “ineligible” that appeared in our account. I need someone to say it’s nothing; he’s eligible.

And I’m anxious.

Do I call? Do I email a second time? Do I try the support desk and hope the kid behind the screen knows how to help?

Or do I wait?

My mind does not rest, but I choose to set aside my phone and computer for an hour (or I’d keep checking for answers every few minutes). My daughter made me a splendid omelet and scrambled eggs for herself. She picks up Heidi, I pick up my Kindle to where I’m at with Lord of the Rings.

I read this:

 For a while the hobbits continued to talk and think of the past journey and of the perils that lay ahead; but such was the virtue of the land of Rivendell that soon all fear and anxiety was lifted from their minds. The future, good or ill, was not forgotten, but ceased to have any power over the present. Health and hope grew strong in them, and they were content with each good day as it came, taking pleasure in every meal, and in every word and song.

And I thought….home.

That’s what home should be. That’s what I want this home to be.

Soon all fear and anxiety was lifted from their mind.

The future, good or ill, was not forgotten but ceased to have any power over the present.

Health and hope grew strong in them. 

They were content with each good day as it came…

And so here I am, not checking my email, my phone near me but not distracting me, and noticing the pretty Christmas lights, the soft black and white cat sleeping on a pillow near me, the kid so wrapped up in her book that she’s moved to the couch.

I still wonder if I have a reply from the college — but I won’t let the fear and anxiety of what could be taken away from what is now. 

(written around December 2019)