Meet Edward Tulane

This past Tuesday night, at 10:30 pm exactly, Cole, Lily, Owen and I finished our audio read of
The Miraculous Adventure of Edward Tulane, by Kate Dicamillo. It has been quite sometime since I let a book get inside of me like that, yanking me where it must go. The story of our rabbit ringing clear and true the joys and pains of love. Edward starts out as a pompous ass of rabbit who cares for no one but himself. Through a serious of unfortunate abandonments and extended isolation the rabbit begins to experience love. His adventurous journey takes him to the place of learning to love others with all that he has, completely losing his selfish course of actions in the process. He breaks, but he loves. He breaks again, but hopes still.

“Edward knew what it was like to say over and over again the names of those you had left behind. He knew what it was like to miss someone. And so he listened. And in his listening, his heart opened wide and then wider still. (page 103)”

 I, too, know what it is like to rehearse the faces and places of all that was once comfortable, familiar and home. I remember the people and routines that were as second nature to me as breathing. I am lonely a good part of my days now. But that is okay. I am actively clearing the crap out of my life in order to bring me into the place of clarity and hunger once again with the Lord, with myself. I  have been broken for a good part of 2013, however, I know that there is a well of grace that has covered me as I have hurt. I am in a season of choosing thankfulness, even if I don't swell over with it the way that I ought too, the way that I want too. As I figure out who I am apart from the mirrors of reinforcements, I can only simply trust that God does in fact have a plan for me here too. He has said so.

One of the plus sides to gray hairs and forehead wrinkles (oh blast) is realizing that our lives, our stories, are made up of a string of seasons; we can relax a little in its ebbs and flow. To be honest, I have no idea what my new life here in Michigan holds for me to do, to build, to feel. But I can say, I do trust that one of these days I am going to happen upon it.

“Open your heart. Someone will come. Someone will come for you. But first you must open your heart. (Old Doll to Edward after he had given up on hope)

Oh, but someone has come.
He has gone before me.
He is worthy of my thankfulness, my trust and love. It is my desire that He should have it.
Perhaps the most worthy kind of love and trust is the kind you choose to give when you don't feel like it at all; where you consciously choose to stay in the fight for joy, for peace, for hope, for faith. Edward's transformation offered us this truth: sacrificial love is never given without serious cost, but it is infinite in its value and beauty in comparison with never loving at all.
Perhaps that is one of the greatest lessons for all of us.
Perhaps.