Rediscovering Innocence
“It's always a sunny day, when Christopher Robin comes to play.”
Do you remember when you were young? What did you dream about? What kind of games did you play? If we encountered ourselves as kids, would we recognize ourselves in them, or would we just see a child we wish we could be?
It’s hard for me to remember my life as a child. Practically speaking, my memories are naturally fuzzier as I get older - details slipping away as time goes on - but overall, I remember a time of blissful carelessness and a limited freedom that made me feel protected and safe. I would play with a few friends, dress up like princesses, pretend we were spies on secret missions, and create concerts in our garage like we were on American Idol. I didn’t have a lot of children to hang out with my age, but my brother and I always seemed to find a way to fill the days. We hardly ever thought about tomorrow - we just focused on the day at hand.
Practically speaking, those memories are fading over time, but there’s another reason why those days are hard to remember: they happened to a me that didn’t know heartache. Those days are filled with a girl I don’t recognize; a little girl so alive with hope of the future, but not at all anxious about how her dreams might come to fruition. But over time, our protection from harsh realities fade, and we learn about what it means to lose.
There’s usually not a specific moment where we lose our childhood wonder - most of the time it just happens slowly over time. But there was a specific day I started to not be able to recognize the little girl in my memories, and I deeply mourned losing her.
It was the last shred of my innocence, and it had been taken from me.
I think about that night more than I would like, and although it’s gotten easier over time, the memory still lingers like a dense fog in my mind, permitting me to see just how loved I really am. It wasn’t until I sat down tonight to watch “Christopher Robin” that I realized something the Lord has probably been trying to tell me for years: our innocence is never truly gone, we just simply have to be reminded of it.
For those of you who have never seen the 2018 movie “Christopher Robin”, I beg you to carve out some time to watch it. Make sure you have tissues nearby, and just let yourself melt into the story of a young boy who turns into a man, and is reminded of just how wonderful life truly is. The story is incredibly powerful, and if you grew up with Winnie the Pooh like I did, you’ll probably find it even more nostalgic.
Several times throughout the movie, the characters are reminding Christopher that the little boy who used to run around the woods with them is still within the middle-aged, work-obsessed man we see on the screen. It’s not that he’s changed, it’s that his season of life has changed, and he has allowed himself to get swept up in it. By the end of the movie, Christopher rediscovers the innocence he cultivated in childhood, and shares it with his family, deepening his relationships with them in the process.
There’s one line that stuck with me particularly: Christopher finds Pooh after all these years and thinks he’s gone crazy, saying, “I've cracked”, to which Pooh responds, “Oh, I don't see any cracks. A few wrinkles, maybe.”
This life is hard. It’s so, so hard, and heartbreaking, and painful. But it’s also abundantly joyful, and wondrous, and kind. And although we may have scars and wounds from experiences, people, or even ourselves, we have to stop thinking that these wounds are cracks that leave us broken. The truth is, we’re never truly broken; more times than not, we’re just lost. We have trauma and heartache fogging our minds with falsities that distract from how loved we truly are, and worst of all, these painful experiences are telling us that we’ve lost our innocence - that we’re ruined.
That little girl who ran around as a princess and a spy and a popstar, she’s still in me, she just looks a little different. Instead of dressing up like a fairy, I’m putting on my favorite sundress for Mass. I’m still pretending I’m a popstar, but I’m singing in my car on the way to work instead of my backyard. I still get giddy and excited over the littlest things, and dream of traveling and going on wonderful adventures. I’m still the little girl that never expected any of this to happen to her, but now I have the ability to rise above challenges and survive even the deepest suffering.
Most of all though, remembering that little girl also reminds me that’s all I’ve ever been to my Father: an innocent little child still learning to walk, needing His help every step of the way. I can’t help what’s happened to me, and I can’t go back and change the things I wish I hadn’t done. But these experiences never changed me, and they never stole my capacity for love and joy. They just made it a little harder to see.
With the grace of God I have realized tonight that my innocence was never lost, my perception of it was. Your innocence isn’t lost either, your perception is just a bit foggy.
Remember the little girl who lived fully alive - that’s how your Father sees you, after all.
Christopher Robin: “I haven't thought about them in years.”
Winnie The Pooh: “Well, we think about you every day.”