Skip to main content

Dumbo Learns To Fly


"From your head to your toes,
You're so sweet goodness knows
You're so precious to me
Cute as can be
Baby of mine"
- Dumbo, Walt Disney


I made the mistake of watching Dumbo. I told myself I could handle this cartoon, even though as a five year old, this movie wrenched my heart strings and brought me to tears. Every time. Not once has this movie left me dry eyed. What is it with vintage Disney and these rip your heart out cartoons? 
"Baby of Mine" croons over the speakers as sweet mommy animals are nestling their little one's into the comfort of sleepy time on the screen, while almost orphaned Dumbo is being cradled by his mother through bars. Who wouldn't cry?
What is almost ironic about my history with this movie, is that I love it. I absolutely love it. The sweetness in that song gets me every time. As a five year old, watching through the medium of a BETA player (my parents refused to get with the times and own a VHS player), that scene of parental care and love spoke to me because I knew what it was to be mothered by a woman who would comfort me when I was lonely or scared, who would cuddle me when I forced myself onto her lap and begged for hugs. She was, and is, my mom. And such a good mom at that. 
Watching this movie as a grown woman, a grown woman who has lost her daughter, listening to that song and watching that scene reminds me of what I am missing, but also what I am looking forward to.
In my heart, where that deep ache hides and only finds solace in the sweetness of my Father's spirit, is the knowledge that my Edy is laughing, joyfully wrapped in the arms of our King.
She is fine. More than fine.
I am missing her.
Burgeoning up into that place of loss is an ever growing blossom of hope. 
Time, in the hands of a Healing Father, has begun her labor of love and reminded me that all is not lost, that hope is waiting to be embraced and brought to life.
I am looking forward to this.
I wrote this post, at the risk of sounding redundant. "She's writing about grief again!" but I so badly need the universe to know that more than my sorrow for losing my child, at the very core of me I know peace and a day by day strengthening joy. Just as much as God is caring for, loving, cherishing and nurturing my little Edy....., He is doing the same thing for Dustin and I.
I'm not afraid of having another child. It is always worth the risk....., for love.
If I had let fear dictate to me years ago, my ability to give and receive love, I would never have gotten married. Fear will always say the risk is too great. Love will always say the risk is worth it.
That's how Dumbo learned to fly.




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The In Between

In that cave,
That dark and cavernous empty space,
A small light flickers
A warm glow piercing the cold shadows.

A little girl is crying,
Sitting on a rock and crying
That little girl is me.

The sorrow wraps around her
Swallows the air around her
I'm afraid it will never leave.

In that dark cave,
That lonely, damp cave
My Jesus sits beside me.

He's sitting in the darkness with me
And the darkness is not scary for him
He's not afraid of the dark like I am.

Where does the story go from here? I would like to put a pretty bow on the package and call it a present, and I am sure that someday I will see this time as God intends it to be seen. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that He is not afraid of the unknown the way I am. He is also not afraid of my feelings. The bad ones and the ones I can't explain.
I was talking to a friend who has recently lost a loved one and I got this picture of  a little girl sitting in a lonely, dark cave. I could almost feel the dampness seep…

Joy

(This is not a pretty entry, but I felt it was time to finally share it. For a long time after my Edy died, I felt ashamed of the relief I felt. I felt ashamed that I didn't want to kiss her head because she was no longer alive. I felt like a complete failure as a mother, that I didn't deserve her and losing her was my punishment for being such a failure. God has walked Dustin and I through so much healing since then, He has amazed me with His faithfulness to restore, encourage, and heal all that has felt so very, very broken since losing our baby girl. There is still not a day that goes by that I don't think about her or miss her, but the grief no longer haunts me. I see how, in the hands of our very loving Father, the shadows of grief are dispelled and grief no longer becomes a fearful thing. Not quite friend, but no longer an enemy. Only God can turn our sorrow into joy, and that joy is so deep it becomes a cornerstone. It is no fleeting feeling, but a river of strength…

A Bad Pair of Undies

It all adds up to a day like today.
Sitting in an extremely uncomfortable office chair, hunching over a laptop, eating Hot Tamales, and reading things that make me cry. It's as if I'm addicted to the tears, and yet somehow immune to them. They surface and slide down my cheeks and splash on the desk in front of me, but their meaning gets lost somewhere along the way. The intent behind the sorrow loses it's poignancy and I'm somehow left void of any sense of their purpose.
There are days like today where I wonder what I'm waiting for. What's holding me back, keeping me down, telling me to stop? Sometimes I think the Lord does that, and sometimes I think I do that. I go back to the familiar because it's familiar, but it's a cold comfort and even a little evil in it's familiarity. I'm trying to be happy for those who are seeing their dreams come to life, because it's good to be happy for those things. But I also feel sad for myself. Yes people. …