| A Word Edgewise
by Mary Joe Clendenin |
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So many children's stories talk truth to all ages, young, old
and in between. For an example, I give you an excerpt from THE
VELVETEEN RABBIT, by Margery Williams:
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stickout handle?"
"REAL isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, then you become REAL."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are REAL you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse.
"You become, it takes a long time. That's why it doesn't
often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges,
or have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are
REAL, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop
off, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these
things don't matter at all because once you are REAL you can't
be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
Loving extracts a toll. Watching our children grow, seeing them involved in things that can only bring grief, hurting when they hurt, aching with their heartaches, feeling their disappointments when they fall short, or when others fail them, or when they fail others, takes a price that some choose not to pay.
It's not just when they are young and live under your roof that the pain can strike. No matter when the age, you feel the pain. Economy bottoms up sometimes, and sons and daughters are caught in the fall. Conflicts and heartaches in their own families spill over to you. You see the dispair, the pain, the frustration, and you know hurt--but know, too, that learning to walk is an individual process where the learner must get up and try again. No matter how you wish it were not so, how you wish they could learn from your mistakes instead of making them themselves, you can only love them.
As a source of love and incouragement, you are REAL. Battle scars begin to show. To love, to be REAL, is to be vulnerable. Into the ballance go the joys also. Memories of that trusting little head against your shoulder, believing that mother or daddy can fix anything, gives a glow to warm you on chilly days. You may see--at some points--that your love and encouragement make a difference, beacuse they come for more. Being counted in on the times of rejoicing, the celebrations when things go right and the prizes are captured may bring a few happy tears. Being included when the landmarks are established makes life wonderful. When the second and third generations appear, just think of all the bragging rights you have earned when you become REAL. The joys tip the scale to the possitive side.
If you don't care, unless you are REAL, it doesn't hurt. Joy and sorrow are opposite sides of the same coin. Without being able to experience sorrow, we can never know joy.
We give our hearts more easily, I suppose, to our own children than to anyone else, but just because they are our own does not mean that our love will be equally returned. There are times when the giving diminishes the loving, when we may wish we were that beautiful toy, still in the original box, handled with caution, never dragged about and given life by make-believe, the one that never feels pain. We may wish we could freeze ourselves into a block of ice, so that it will quit hurting--but ice cubes quit feeling. Only the warm glow of love can ever melt the ice.
I guess I'm talking in circles now, but the next time you see a REAL person who looks sort of frayed around the edges, whose hair is about gone or all turned gray, whose eyes may be falling out, who's a little wobbly, and getting out of the chair is a real effort, remember, they may be the victum of much loving--and be cautious, they may be armed with pictures to show you. You can bet they are REAL.