I Am the Velveteen Rabbit (or maybe Edward Scissorhands?)

Well, I'm back. I have thought about posting again for a long time, especially when Morgan chastised me a month ago. Glad to know I have left a void in one heart.

It really is too much for me to talk about my life for the past several months. If you want, you can ask my mom. Suffice it to say I thought I was dying, and now I do not.  At least I hope I'm not dying.  But that is completely up to the Lord, as I've come to learn.

Right now, I'm just trying to live my life. Get back on track. Enjoy my kids and husband. We recently made a trip to Colorado where we visited Joe's parents, our friends the McCombs and Andersons, and Emily. While we were visiting Grandma and Grandpa Hansen, we went to a pizzeria.  The art on the wall was from the local high school students.  I remember one painting in particular, because it was Edward Scissorhands, and I loved Edward Scissorhands growing up.  Why did I love Edward Scissorhands so much as a young lass? Probably because I wanted to be Winona Ryder, and she was at the peak of her beauty in that movie.  But now, I feel like Edward Scissorhands.  My hands literally do not work very well, and it's frustrating that no one understands what I am dealing with here.  And I know Edward felt the same way.

But I am getting better at not letting my circumstances get me down.  Like Edward, I am adapting.  He became great at cutting people's hair and shaping bushes for the neighbors.  And I am trying to do the things that make me happiest: serving others and my family. Now I don't say this to sound like I'm a perfect do-gooder, because there is plenty of do-badding in my life.  I have simply found that I am truly the happiest and forget my own problems when I am actively involved in bettering others, however small my efforts may be.

In my family, I have recommitted myself to the education of my children.  Dottie is regularly practicing the piano again, after a year break.  Elliot is learning to read again, after a year break.  Along with reading with Elliot, I am also reading to him childhood classics.  The other day we read The Velveteen Rabbit. 

I haven't read The Velveteen Rabbit since I was a little girl, but as I read the book to Elliot, I was making all of these connections to my own life, crying tears into my little boy's hair.  I don't know how to express this well, so here's an excerpt.  Let's see if you get it:



"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 stick-out 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, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, 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 happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out 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."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.  

"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."
The Rabbit sighed. He thought it would be a long time before this magic called Real happened to him. He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad. He wished that he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him.

This is when the tears started, and they continued for the rest of the story.  You see? This story is really about becoming a mother.  Not just birthing a child and letting society do the rest, but really being involved with your children. So many things happen to you as a mother; you sacrifice your time, comfort, body, sleep, and sometimes, your sanity. And sometimes, you get a tumor in your spinal cord just to try you further. It is uncomfortable, as the Rabbit lamented. But it is worth it. Once you become a mother, there is no going back.  You are a happier, more fulfilled person, in spite of the sacrifice. "Once you are real, you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand." I was so touched by this story because I feel like right now, I would do anything to continue raising my children, to be a part of the magic in their lives.  I don't care if my hair is falling out and my fingers don't work properly. This is what I am alive for: to be a mother to my children.  I know the Lord will help me and bless me for my efforts.  

At the end of the story, when the Fairy comes and turns the boy into a REAL rabbit, she says, "You were Real to the Boy, because he loved you. Now you shall be Real to everyone." I know that that is what the Lord will say to all valiant mothers.  The world will finally recognize us for who we really are, and know that we are choice daughters of our Heavenly Father because of the sacrifice of love we have made in this life.

Woo. Anyway. I know why you're really here (mom).  The pictures. Most of these are from our trip to Colorado: