When I first heard that Disney was making the movie Christopher Robin featuring my very own childhood buddy, Winnie-the-Pooh, I was beyond giddy. Like a child anticipating the arrival of Christmas, I could barely contain myself. Yes, now. At 47 years old.
One of my most beloved childhood memories is that of my Pooh bear. While I didn't have the encompassing adventures that Christopher Robin did, I most certainly had a friend in Winnie-the-Pooh. My treasured Pooh bear heard many secrets, absorbed myriad tears.
Over the years my Pooh bear became tattered and worn. A torn shirt, soiled "fur," a bit of stuffing emerging from one of the seams, and eventually, a missing eye. And still, I held on to my precious Pooh bear. Love doesn't let go.
When I got married nearly 30 years ago, Pooh bear came with me. But as I began to settle into my new life and make a home for my family, my bear friend was deposited into a cedar chest.
As the years went by, one decade turned into two, and as our family grew so did the amount of stuff we accumulated. And so on a major "cleaning out" day, I let go of my beloved yet battered Pooh bear. I threw him away.
When I went to see the recently released Christopher Robin movie, I expected to feel a bit sentimental, emotional even. What I didn't expect was to be wrecked by Pooh.
Oh. My. Word. The tears. A waterfall was born in the theater that night. And when Pooh said to Christopher Robin, "You let me go," it was my undoing. I did the whole bite-your-knuckles-so-you-don't-gasp-for-air thing. Any makeup I wore into the theater did not make its way out on my face. Thank goodness I had the foresight to forgo the mascara.
Crying buckets, I silently told my Pooh bear how sorry I was for letting him go, for losing sight of what's important. There's some real vulnerability going on here, folks. Which, in fact, is my point.
Let's all be real. No more pretending. No more faking it. Throughout the movie, this "bear of little brain" exhibits extraordinary wisdom as he conveys to Christopher Robin the importance of the simple things, of putting those we love first, of not letting go of what's truly significant in this life. Every moment is a never-before and never-since moment that should be embraced for the miracle it is.
All these years later, I once again fell in love with Pooh bear--his soft-spoken gentleness, his witty words of wisdom, his lifestyle of living in the moment, his forgiveness of being let go. And I felt the smattering of grace that covers one like the honey Pooh ate with such love and appreciation.
Pooh knew how to pick up where they had left off all those years ago, how to love as though he'd never been let go of in the first place. I was determined to do the same. I was reminded once again to embrace the simple things in life and to let go of what has no eternal value. And perhaps most importantly, I embraced the little girl in me and laughed with her.
I left that movie theater emotionally spent, yet fully content. Tears emptied; heart full. Childhood memories brought full circle. Beauty revealed in a little stuffed bear. It doesn't get any simpler than that. I was wrecked by Pooh, and to my beloved Winnie-the-Pooh I say, "Thank you."
I didn't set out looking for loss. But as sure as the sun rises, it found me.
The loss of a loved one, the loss of childhood innocence, the loss of a job, a relationship, a dream, a promotion... There seems to be no end to the loss this world brings. And there's no neutral territory, no middle of the road, no safety zone. Loss affects us all.
And yet...
Loss can be harder than we think...and more beautiful than we could ever imagine. Not the loss itself, but what comes from it. The collateral beauty. The treasure unearthed from the rubble left behind in the aftermath.
Loss can leave you looking for an answer to a question you never wished to ask. But it's not so much about having the answer as it is about learning the answer. When we recognize the value of journey, loss becomes more than just loss.
I once heard that every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. Loss is like that. There can be no loss without a beginning, and it is in that loss that a new season begins. Loss isn't destiny aborted; with the proper perspective, it's life reborn.
Learning to live again after loss takes time. Loss is far too difficult for you to be hard on yourself, so give yourself the gift of grace. Life wasn't meant to be lived in a day and loss won't be processed in a day either.
If you're experiencing loss today, I would encourage you to slow down. Breathe. Rest. Take time for yourself. For it is in the sacred pauses that we find healing for our souls.
Perhaps you're currently five tears shy of a monsoon. Go ahead, cry up a storm. Cry until every last tear is shed. Author Kyle Idleman once said this: "Funny thing about tears. Oftentimes it's only when they fill our eyes that we can finally see some things clearly."
Maybe you haven't lost a person, but the loss you're feeling still goes deep to your very core. Maybe your loss is failure. Is it possible to view failure as more than loss? Absolutely. Just maybe your current failure (loss) is preparation for future success. Loss then becomes more.
With any loss comes the realization that you don't have to be anything other than what you are. In a season of loss, we may find ourselves becoming more authentic than we've ever been before. It is in the losing that we find. We find ourselves, our passion, our true voice.
There's a big difference between a deep well and a wishing well. Loss will show you the difference and you'll realize which well you've been drawing from all along. To find the more, one must learn to look deeper than the loss itself.
Loss will come but when it does, look for the beauty; it's there, I promise you. The beauty from loss isn't always bold and brass. Sometimes it comes in small, almost imperceptible ways. And if we're not careful, we can miss it.
There's more to loss than meets the heart. We don't have to go looking for loss; in time it will find us. And while every loss hurts, God's love redeems it all. When we trust in the Father's goodness and love, we will truly realize that loss is more.
