"This must be home," he said. "I know I've always wanted a home!"
Lisa sat down with Corduroy on her lap and began to sew a button on his overalls.
"I like you the way you are," she said, "but you'll be more comfortable with your shoulder strap fastened."
"You must be a friend," said Corduroy. "I've always wanted a friend."
At this point in the story, I'm usually crying so hard I can barely get the words out. And Judah always asks, "Why is Corduroy crying?"
And I explain again that Corduroy is not crying, it's Mommy that's crying.
"Oh. Why are you sad Mommy?"
"I'm not sad, Judah, I'm crying tears of joy. Sometimes when something good happens, you're so happy you cry. But not because you're sad. Because you're happy."
Some day, as Judah grows up, I'll explain more.
I'll tell him that no amount of stuff (like that enormous palace in the department store) can ever fill the longing in your heart for Home. 'Stuff' and fulfillment are not at all the same thing.
And that even if you've never seen or known a Home, you'll know it the instant you're there. Your heart will know what your senses have never perceived. Because that is how we're made--to long to find the place where we are loved. That is what makes us human.
I'll explain that a friend is someone who loves you just the way you are. Even the one fatal flaw you thought you had that makes you utterly unlovable. That one thing you've sought to fix all your life so that you might become lovable--that darn missing button on your overalls.
A true friend sees it. Accepts you despite it. And fixes it for your sake, not theirs.
And I'll explain that Home is where your friend(s) is/are.
|Photo credit: www.nandphotography.net|
And that the real reason Mommy is crying is because you are that friend for me.