Real isn't how you are made

Today is the birthday of Margery Williams, the author of "The Velveteen Rabbit."
If you've never read this book about becoming real, you can read it online here.
My friend Vicki gave me a copy for my 40th birthday, and though my children were long past the age to be read to, I have read "The Velveteen Rabbit" to myself numerous times in the years since.
The book is sub-titled "Or How Toys Become Real", but it's much more than that.  It's about love and its redemptive and transformative powers.
This is a story to read to a young child but it should be re-read over and over again as that child grows.  The message is one especially important for teenagers who often struggle with self-esteem and what love means.  And the story continues to resonate through young adulthood, into and past middle age.  When I read that the rabbit had begun to lose his shape, that the lining of his ears had turned grey, but that to the little boy he was always beautiful, I'm reminded that beauty is more than what's reflected in the mirror.  But I'm also reminded that sadness and loss are part of what makes us real.  There is no true joy without sorrow.
When the Boy becomes ill with Scarlet Fever, the Rabbit stays near, though "It was a long weary time. . ." He was faithful.  And the Rabbit had hope, looking "forward to the time when the Boy should be well again, . .."  Such is real love.  "Love is patient, love is kind. . ." 1 Corinthians 13:4.


"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, not just to play with you, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

You can't put a price on a piece of your heart

It was a restful weekend spent at one of the most relaxing places I know. When we arrived there was a cool breeze off the lake.  Sitting on the porch it was hard to believe how hot it had been at home earlier in the day.  On our two morning walks we saw deer cross the road and rescued a turtle.  The tiger swallowtail butterflies were everywhere.  On Saturday my daughter and her family joined us and my grandsons found out how much fun it is to play in the water.

When the thunderstorms rolled in we all retreated to the porch and watched the rain come across the lake.

This black-crowned night-heron was posing on the pier when I woke up Sunday morning.

Watching the rain, feeling the breeze, waking to a heron on the pier - all was peaceful and relaxing.  But whenever I sit on the porch of that house,  there are other pictures in my mind.

My dad, entertaining my oldest daughter, Tracy (the daughter whose sons enjoyed the water so much on Saturday.)

My dad swimming with my daughter Emi, about 1980.

My sister, expecting her first child, resting in the hammock with my daughters and my dad.

My daughters and their GrandPatty doing arts and crafts on the porch (when it was still a screened porch).

Enjoying popsicles in the butterfly chair on the porch.

My son and his Great-uncle Charles at a gathering of my husband's family.

Celebrating my brother's and my son's birthdays, just a day apart in May.

My son (right) and his cousins.

Just one of many family gatherings when the children were young.

There are hundreds of pictures of vacations, holidays, and family gatherings at this house.  I can see many of them in my mind's eye when I sit on that porch.  The value of this house can't be measured by an appraiser.  You can't put a price on a piece of your heart.

"It is all the same clay"

Today I happened across "A Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor", a website with a daily post of a poem, some literary history, and possibly other goodies for lovers of writing.  I subscribed to the newsletter and the daily feed to Google Reader.  When I read today's post I discovered that it's Anna Quindlen's birthday.
I've read most of Anna Quindlen's novels, many of her columns, and some of her non-fiction.   But of all of her books, the one that has meant the most to me is "Siblings", a book about sibling relationships with photos by Nick Kelsh.   I first read an excerpt from the book in a magazine about 1998 and clipped it out, filing it away as I do many clippings.  I ran across that clipping years later and decided to see if the book it was lifted from was still available.  Thanks to the wonders of online booksellers,  I was able to order four used copies (it's no longer in print) - one for myself and one for each of my siblings.  I sent the books to my siblings at Thanksgiving in 2006 with a letter in which I wrote:  "She writes that she 'doesn't understand how people learn to live in the world if they haven't had siblings.'  She says that 'we can never really lose them, or we have lost our history, our past, a part of ourselves that we cannot do without.'"  I underlined that last phrase and put it in bold type and wrote "I cannot do without the three of you."  Quindlen doesn't sugarcoat the sibling relationship.  She recognizes the tensions, the jealousies, all of the negative emotions.
About that same time I sent my children a copy of the excerpt from the book.  I reminded them that as young adults with busy lives and small children it is surely hard to make time to stay in close contact with each other - but that one day those children would be on their own.  That if they didn't make the time for each other now they may realize one day that they don't know each other very well anymore.  And that would be a great, great, loss, for they will need each other.
I realize that I am incredibly blessed by the love and support of my siblings.  We haven't grown apart over the years, though we have certainly lived great distances apart.  It  has not all been smooth going.  There have been misunderstandings and resentments, as there are in all relationships.  But the love is always there, holding us together.  I love you Ricky, Ann, and Mary!

"'Flesh of my flesh,' they may sometimes say in the marriage ceremony, but it's just not true.  It is not even true of our children who are part of us; part of someone dear to us; loved by us; but not made of what we are made of.  But our brothers and sisters:  Well, it is all the same clay."  Anna Quindlen

"What precious blessings"

My God! How little do my countrymen know what precious blessings they are in possession of, and which no other people on earth enjoy! ~Thomas Jefferson

Most of us think of fireworks, hamburgers, watermelon, the beach, pool parties, family reunions and a holiday from work when we think of the 4th of July.  Yes, we also think of flags and the Declaration of Independence.  But how many of us truly comprehend what the celebration is all about?

It is easy to take liberty for granted, when you have never had it taken from you. ~Author unknown

I believe that the great blessing that we share as citizens of this country is one that none of us are capable of appreciating fully for we've never been without it.  

This, then, is the state of the union: free and restless, growing and full of hope. So it was in the beginning. So it shall always be, while God is willing, and we are strong enough to keep the faith. ~Lyndon B. Johnson

Let us study the history of our freedom, learn about our founding fathers, and pray that we "are strong enough to keep the faith.
"This land is my land, this land is your land. . ."   Let's love it and take care of it and celebrate our freedom!

The baby wrens are singing

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have

into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos

to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, 

a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes 

sense of our past, brings peace for today, 

and creates a vision for tomorrow.

- Melody Beattie

My prayer today, on my birthday, is that I live a life of gratitude.  Today I am especially grateful for the cool air, the birthday greetings from family and friends, and the chance to sit outside and listen to the baby wrens singing in this birdhouse.