Ashley sent us a text this morning with a little poem about being soft. I’ve already read it about 10 times. Try softer, not harder it says. As I was driving to work, weaving between cars and being ready to break because North Carolinian drivers were taught that going the speed limit and using a turn signal are cardinal sins, I was struggling with what it means to live that out. I’m bad at being soft. Softness feels entirely apart from me at times.
I was thinking about last weekend at women’s retreat. During the discussion groups, a lady at my table read a quote from the Velveteen Rabbit. I remember reading that book in Mrs. Voorhees’s first grade class, it was a favorite. Hearing her summarize the message of that book, I realized I need to re-read it. For anyone who hasn’t read Velveteen but for some reason is reading this blog (go read it, or at least read the quotes on GoodReads), I’ll give you the take home message. Love is what makes us real, and in order for us to be real we must endure hurt and become soft. The rabbit was perfect before it was loved by the boy, pristine velvet skin, a ribbon around its neck. As it was loved it lost it’s ribbon, it’s shape, it became unrecognizable as a rabbit to all but the boy.
“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 your 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.”
Am I being dramatic? Yes. Do I know where I’m going with all this? Literally never.
But we’re rounding the bend on Fellows, the finish line is in sight and I’m scared of it. I pray I will be finishing much shabbier than I started. I think that’s good. How do I try soft? I don’t know really, except to let the love that is being poured over me change me. I hope that is enough. Daily I ask myself, am I good? Am I being good. I have no idea. Hard to feel good when you’re being loved so hard all the things that once made you seem good start falling off. I broke my own rule and read someone’s blog and will now be stealing from what Skip asked in his Feb blog. I want to try soft. Will you hold me accountable?
Khodahafez!
Tessa