Quinn and I have reached the chapters in The Two Towers about the Ents (Shepherds of the Forest). I am grateful for the Ents, for Tolkien, for beautiful descriptive literature that whisks us off to places alive with memory, where we are nourished with lush greenery, replenished from our weariness with a long drink of restorative running water. Treebeard shares with the hobbits how the Ents famously do not say anything in their language unless it is worth taking a long time to say. I would like to be more like the Ents, whether the topic is antibody testing, homework resistance, or a friend’s profound grief. I also think the Ents have something to teach me about listening, long and patiently. I am grateful that some of my slow words come through how I intended, though I am still much too hasty and imprecise, and sometimes my lack of words may be taken to mean I don’t care. This could not be farther from the truth about me.
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