saint eeyore
on complicated sandwiches, friends who listen, and winnie the pooh
Yesterday we woke to a freshly powdered front yard. Snow had dusted the bushes, cars, trees, and lawn in the thinnest layer of reflective sugar. Sam stretched on tiptoes and looked out the big picture window and then in a movement that should have resulted in whiplash, turned to David and I and shouted, “IT ‘NOWED! IT ‘NOWED! CAN I EAT IT?!” There was a lightness in my chest that I had felt only a few other times that week. Sam’s squeal, the beauty and brightness of the outdoors, the warmth I felt in my chest. I had the hardest time identifying what it was, and then it hit me. It was Joy. And it felt foreign. And then I felt sad. And that felt familiar. And then I heard the sing-songy tune from Daniel Tiger telling me that sometimes you feel two feelings at the same time, and that’s ok, and I laughed.
I watched Sam play outside and take a snowball and roll it across the ground to make it larger. The powder was still dry enough that it was having trouble sticking to his ball, and he looked more like Sisyphus, rolling his boulder up the hill, rather than a boy attempting to make a snowman. I started to walk over to help him, but realized he was in no need of my help. He was perfectly happy just to be outside, rolling this tiny snowball. If it gained traction, great. If it didn’t, he was getting to be outside and crawl around as heaven covered earth. His snowman ended up being tiny and a bit pathetic and he didn’t care. He was blissed out. My child had figured out what I had forgotten.
Recently, I introduced Sam to The (animated) New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh. The stories are an amalgamation of the originals–playful, hand-drawn characters set in the forever expanding Hundred Acre Wood. I’ve always loved how the characters of the wood show different aspects of human emotion: Pooh, the sweet-hearted eternal optimist; Tigger, the extroverted, forever friend; Rabbit, the industrious, ever-frustrated, perfectionist; Piglet, the fearful loyalist with hidden courage; and Eeyore, the ho-hum pessimist, who loves his friends deeply. God I love Eeyore. Eeyore is always losing his tail, is always being overworked by Rabbit, is always being overshadowed by Tigger’s energy, and is always having his voice quieted by his well-meaning friends.
We bought Sam an Eeyore stuffed animal before we even knew him, and recently he rediscovered him and is tickled pink anytime Eeyore makes an appearance in a Pooh episode. In one such episode, everyone is trying to cheer Eeyore up after seeing him sit by himself and watch the sky. They are sure he’s sad, because he looks sad. Each friend attempts to show Eeyore something that gives them great pleasure (eating honey, bouncing on springs, gardening carrots–you get the gist) but nothing is a good fit for Eeyore. And what’s more, Eeyore is constantly trying to tell his friends that he is, in fact, NOT unhappy.
Finally it’s Piglet’s turn to cheer up Eeyore. Poor Piglet has spent the entire day fretting about what would be the best fit for Eeyore, overanalyzing every choice and therefore, ruling everything out. Piglet finds his friend, once again, on the hill looking at the sky, as he comes to tell him with a heavy heart that he doesn’t have any ideas to cheer him up. It’s here that Eeyore explains to Piglet (the first of the friends to really listen) that he wasn’t ever sad, he was waiting. Together, Piglet and Eeyore turn their eyes to the sky and watch as the light bursts through clouds. The clouds swirl and create majestic colors, and what appears to be glitter falls from the sky. Eeyore comes to watch this as often as he can and today, his friend was there to quietly witness it with him. It’s only then that we see Eeyore smile as he keeps his head trained on the sky, his friend’s tiny arm around his back.
….
This week, I turned 38. The actual day was filled with many different emotions. I grieved as Sam’s behavior became too much for me to handle. I was joyful as Sam and I baked bread together and I watched him gain confidence. I was contented as I sat at a favorite lunch spot and enjoyed a sandwich by myself. My heart swelled with joy as I received texts from far away friends sending me their love and blessings for the year, and it broke when I took calls that were uncomfortable.
I went home that evening to make soup for my family and was later surprised by a new friend wanting to take me out for drinks. What I thought was going to be a couple of friends in a quiet booth turned into a gaggle of women waiting to surprise me, all organized ahead of time. Again, my emotions were a tangle. I hugged their necks and thanked them, feeling genuine surprise and love, but also feeling worry–they all knew how complicated life had been for me lately. Was this pity? I pushed that feeling aside and enjoyed their company, bantered with the bartender, chose thankfulness, and thought of Eeyore.
What has my toddler figured out that took me 38 years to remember? What had Eeyore been trying to tell his friends all along?
It’s now raining on top of the snow. The weather is the definition of misery, but outside our big picture window is my husband and son, bundled and wet, searching for sticks to complete their snowman. “Wet snow makes the best snowmen,” David said as we fought Sam into his boots.
Somehow grief and joy make the best sandwich. Doing something miserable can bring about something amazing. And being surprised by community in a lonely season feels a lot like Christmas. Sometimes rolling a snowball uphill is more about joy and less like Sisyphus. It’s Eeyore having figured out contentment and how sometimes it may appear to look a bit like loneliness. Friends that want so desperately to love you even when you don’t know how to feel loved is a gift. Eeyore understood that. And I’m trying.
Always,
Emily
real life moment: this post brought to you by one cup of tea and a husband who was willing to take our toddler into the wet snow at 7:15am to make a snowman so I could finish a single thought. God bless Saint David of Spokane—patron of tiny, screaming boys and my heart.