Wednesday, November 26, 2014


Robs found the Chronicles of Narnia at my parents' house earlier this month. She couldn't put it down. For several days in a row, I'd kiss her goodnight, and she'd barely notice. Her thoughts were filled to the brim with Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. But one night, long after we'd put her to bed, I heard her steps coming down the stairs. I asked what was going on - but she could hardly talk. She was choking back tears. (I'd just finished reading the news, so the scenario made me somewhat jumpy.) "Robs! Please! Tell me what is wrong?"

"Mooooooom," she wailed, "Aslan died!" And then burst into uncontrollable sobs.

It was, all at once, the sweetest emotion and the most genuine sadness. We sat down and I scooped her on to my lap. (I hardly get to hold this sweet child o' mine anymore.) She cried a lot, I cried a little, I held her tight, and then we started to laugh because it was so silly and so lovely. I asked her if she'd read ahead. (She hadn't) So we snuck back upstairs and quietly read the part where Aslan comes back, to the utmost joy of Susan, Lucy, and my Robs.

It was a defining moment that I'll likely remember for ever.


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