28. The Little Engine That Could
Change the way we see the world.
There are moments when all hope seems lost. We all know them—many of us feel we’re in one of those moments now, even as, in the darkest corners of our imagination, we fearfully understand: it could be so much worse. It could be so much worse in ourselves, in our families and friends, in our country, in our world.
In a famous passage from The Lord of the Rings, Frodo despairs to Gandalf at a dark moment in their quest:
“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.
“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
Our most fundamental trait as a species, the only thing that sets us apart from the other animals, is storytelling. And in dark times, we need our stories the most. Our myths, fables, and—yes—movies give us courage when we are tempted to despair. They tell us, over and over in a million different ways—as in this children’s classic of the brave little engine who climbs the mountain when others are too busy, too grand for such lowly work, or simply too tired, too convinced of their own enervation—the stories tell us: We can. We are not too busy, grand, or tired. We can change the way we see the world, and we can change the world.
Links:
The line “Change the way you see the world, and you change the world” came from an artist or arts writer, but I can’t find it online. Could be Dave Hickey.
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This post is part of The American 250, a series featuring 250 words on 250 objects made by Americans, located in America, in honor of the country’s 250th anniversary. Through December 31, 2026.
I’m looking for ideas for this series — have something you’d like me to consider for inclusion? Please feel free to leave a comment!
I own two copies of this book! The first one I ever owned, worn and tattered. And a second my parents gave me when I graduated from high school, which I read often to my own kids. A perfect selection for this series for the reasons you so eloquently shared.
I loved the memories this conjured for me. When I was four, I couldn't wait until my sister, 12, arrived home from school. We would have "my" school then, and she taught me to read with "The Little Engine That Could"! Of course my skills became a nightmare: when I began kindergarten I could already read and I was so bored and got in so much trouble, the principal suggested to my mother that I stay at home! When I began theological studies at Perkins, one of the sermons in chapel was about "The Little Engine That Could." It was probably a wonderful sermon, but I daydreamed about those early learning days! Thank you...a delightful truth....