When I come to describe this Workshop, a few words stick out.
Rivendell. Family. Home. Mordor. Ordinary. Sent out.
Prior to the Workshop, I had been praying about themes and what He might want to do with us as a family during this week. I had conversations with people where we talked about 2012 and the way that God knit the group together with prayer on the last night. But this year- this was a new year. One of my greatest fears coming into the SW was that we might try to replicate 2012. I didn’t want us to fake what sprung up organically. At the same time, I know that God is in the Workshops in a strong way. The Schwaubauers know that. We as an OYAN family know it. So at the same time as I was cautious, I was also excited about what might happen.
I’ve looked forward to this Workshop more than the previous ones. I finally feel like I have a place in OYAN. I have people who care about me. I have family, and I was going to see them again, face to face.
During the first few days of the Workshop, all my expectations on the family front were met. I met new friends. I hugged old ones for a long, long time. We took stupid pictures, we laughed; we signed t-shirts; we sat together at lunch and talked about Harry Potter and accents and writing styles and the future. But I didn’t yet notice a theme.
Mr. S. talked about ordinary heroes on Monday. Mark Wilson talked about Rivendells; havens for creativity. Braden’s song had been on my ipod since the Winter Workshop and I abused the replay button. But it didn’t click.
I was praying Thursday and Friday for something. I prayed that God would teach us to be ordinary heroes. I prayed that we would know how to go home. I prayed that we would be changed. But my faith was small. I’ve been to Workshops. I’ve come home on a high, then seen my passion filter out.
So my expectations weren't high. God might move, He might not. We might feel passionate, but it might not last. We might cry, but then we'll forget. We feel really tight-knit now, but maybe three months from now we won’t talk.
It got to Friday, and I talked about this with Texas Cowboy over dinner. Then we went to the last session. I had a nervousness that I couldn’t shake, and though I was trying to remind myself that God does what He will and would do what He wants with the evening, I didn't fully believe He would actually do anything.
Then we had the song about Bob, and the chorus.
"Why did we feel alone, why were we on our own, when there's a place that's so much bigger on the inside? Our stories will soar far above, in a place that's filled with love, and ordinary heroes. Welcome to our world!"
Mr. S. shared at the beginning of his session about how Mark Wilson had told him that he was going to speak on Rivendell, without knowing that Mr. S’s last session was going to be on Hobbit Holes.
Those two things. I got an inkling that perhaps, maybe, this wasn’t just a coincidence. Maybe I had underestimated God- again.
One of the notes I took during Mr. S.’s session was the single line, “Rivendell is cooler than Mordor.” Cue moment of truth. This isn’t just about Hobbit Holes, and this isn’t just about us escaping real life. This is about tentacles of light going out into Mordor. This is about the Fellowship healing and preparing for the battle.
We all have our Mordors. Whether or not you consider OYAN home, we still have to go back to our real places of residence. Even if we all moved to Kansas, there’s a Mordor there, too. We can’t hide from evil. Fifty-one weeks of the year, you probably live in a place that’s more like Mordor then Rivendell.
OYAN, our Rivendell, feels like home because it is. It feels like healing because it is. We don’t want to leave because it’s beautiful. But even though we have to go back to Mordor, Rivendell is still cooler.
I was reminded strongly of the fact that I don’t often take Rivendell home with me. If Rivendell is cooler than Mordor, then why don't I try to be Rivendell? When the Fellowship went into the battle, they still had the light and hope that they had been given in the place of refuge. It was because of that hope that they were able to stand.
At the end of his session, Mr. S. shared about how they were concerned- just as some of us were- about us trying to make this Workshop like last year, about us trying to manufacture the same passion as last year. But God will do what He wants, regardless of us. And if we think we’ve got Him figured out, we’ll be wrong.
As Mr. S. talked about faith, I realized (again) that these ideas are so big. It took faith to write a curriculum. It took faith to hold a Workshop. It takes faith to love each other. It takes faith to dream about Hobbit Holes.
“First you must see it, then you can make it real.”
I started to see what I had been missing the rest of the week as Mr. S. spoke about Hobbit Holes and places of creativity and changing the world through faith.
What are we here for- why does OYAN exist, why do the Workshops exist? It’s so we can go home and continue to be Rivendell. In our cyber Rivendell, we don’t see face to face but we still talk heart to heart. Our Rivendell should be our interactions with each other. Our Rivendell should be our love for people, regardless.
I remember last year going home and thinking that “I’ve got to keep contact with these people.” But I’m terrible at that. I’m terrible at asking deep questions and consistently caring for and praying for people on OYAN.
So praying the prayer of being a Rivendell away from Kansas is a scary prayer for me, at least. Because I feel that even though we’re lights, when we walk in Mordor, it’s hard to see through the grey, and the swords of darkness are painful and difficult to evade.
I don’t know what my piece of the Rivendell should be. I know I belong. I know I’m a part of this movement, but as I sat in the session, I heard Mr. S. speak about faith in the impossible, and I prayed . Because I’m going home tomorrow, and what am I supposed to do? I’ve heard about writing and I’ve experienced family, and I’ve been challenged to shine light into a grey-shadowed world, whether it’s as a teacher or a sister or a writer or a friend. But Rivendell? I can't picture myself as one of the Fellowship.
It’s hard to pray those kind of prayers, because I don’t see myself suddenly becoming a bearer of Rivendell. I don’t see myself suddenly becoming good at relationships, or consistent in writing, or faithfully loving people, or pursuing the light.
Mr. S. read a piece of the Runt book, and one line stuck out to me.
“Don’t see yourself, you’ve seen too much of that already.”
Convicted feels like a cliché term, but that line was for me. I’m convinced of it. I look through my eyes at OYAN, at Rivendell, at my situation. I look through my own eyes at people.
But we are to be Rivendell, and God answers bold prayers. I could see that faith in the Schwabauers as they stood on stage, and in the standing ovation of teenagers who believed that this crazy dream of Hobbit Holes could be a reality.
“Don’t see yourself, you’ve seen too much of that already," became my prayer.
I came out of the Bell Center and saw the crowd of people praying over Mr. S. I didn’t feel the need to be in the circle this year. So I sat a little ways and sang the old hymns, hearing the hum of many teary voices and praying a prayer myself.
Thank you for OYAN, and get us ready, because we don’t know how we’re supposed to do this. We’ve found home, but we’re still broken pots, rusting instruments, paintings unfinished. Our capabilities are so much less than our dreams.
A couple people in the circle said things like “I know this feels like an end.” But I sat ten feet away and really felt strongly that this wasn’t supposed to be an end. Being with you was not supposed to make me just want to stay in Kansas.
I think it was Jonny who said to me that OYAN is a rocket, ready to launch. We’re don’t have all the parts, and we don’t know where the fuel to get there will come from, but this is the start. This is the journey to the darkest parts of Mordor, and though we’re going home to journey apart, we also journey together.
I am praying for more faith, for me; for all of us. I believe that OYAN is going to be a force; that our Rivendell is going to creep like spider fingers of light across this continent and this world. The light we have been given will permeate publishing houses and bookstores and mission fields and schools and homes and the brokenness that shadows Mordor.
I don’t know how we’re going to do any of these crazy things, but all I can say is that I want to stand by you guys. I want to stand in my own Mordor here in BC, and I want to fight with you and for you in our cyber-Rivendell. We need to. I’m looking forward to engaging with more of you online, and I’m looking forward to praying for you.
In 2012, I bawled most of Friday night and Saturday after feeling the weight of this community for the first time. This year I had some tears in the prayer circle, because of the awe of the fact that this is something God’s doing, and this is a beginning, and God is good, and even when we don’t have faith God still gives us what we need.
I haven’t felt the same sadness this year, and I’ve felt almost excited to go home with the things I've learned. The passion is less intense. Hopefully it’s deeper. Hopefully our commitment to Hobbit Holes and cyber-Rivendells and making it real will be stronger because of this Workshop. Hopefully we will not let each other forget.
I hesitate to promise, because I know I will stumble. But that’s the point of faith. We know that our light isn’t enough, but we also know the Light is enough. So I stand by Him, and we stand by each other.
Together or apart, we make it our aim to please Him. Remember that Mordor is ultimately defeated. Rivendell is the foretelling of our future. We will reach it someday. Take courage. We will not always live in the grey underlands.
Until next year, then, let’s make more of our world like Rivendell.
I love you all.
“fire burning brightly
flames of farewells in my throat
broke my stony heart
and took away its old crusts
when I said goodbye and looked
and saw those bright fires
and many burning farewells
that broke all our hearts
and built them back up again
and whispered a truth to me
there is no end
just a journey
and a home
and the duet between the two.”
-Jared Schmitz.
~Abby Walsh
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