A good friend, whose children wore hand-me-downs and received their schooling at home, was very experienced in nursery magic, and she was able to explain to this mom what it meant to be REAL. She said, "REAL isn't how many material possessions you can give to your children. It's a thing that happens to you when a child loves you---and not just for the things you can give to him, but really loves you. Then you become REAL. It doesn't happen all at once… Generally by the time your are REAL, you hair is a mess and graying, you have wrinkles around your eyes, and you get stiff knees and look very shabby, but these things don't matter at all, because once you are REAL, you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand. The mom was fascinated and afraid. She asked her good friend if it hurt, and she replied, "sometimes," for she was always truthful. "When you are REAL, you don't mind being hurt." The mom immediately knew that her good friend was REAL, and she longed for this magic to happen to her. Yet thinking of getting gray hair and wrinkles made her feel sad. She wished she could become REAL without these uncomfortable things happening to her. The days of childhood passed by very quickly. The mom spent countless hours with her children taking them for walks in the park, building snowmen in the backyard in the winter and helping them learn to swim in the summer. The mom was so happy that she didn't even notice that her hair was becoming gray and that there were now wrinkles around her eyes from smiling so much. But the other moms noticed and they also noticed the beautiful glow around this mom's face that was always present but become brighter whenever her children were near. She felt so loved, and she knew she was becoming REAL.
And then one day, the mom's little boy was very ill. He could no longer run or ride his bike, and within a short time he couldn't even walk. He could barely speak and it became increasingly hard for him to swallow his food. The mom spent many hours feeding and bathing the little boy, and playing games with him and reading to him. She missed the walks in the park and all the time they used to spend playing outdoors. The little boy's sisters missed these times, too, and they were frightened. The doctors told the mom that her little boy had a brain tumor and that they could not make him well. The mom wondered what awful thing she must have done to cause something so terrible to happen to one of her children. But deep inside she knew that is was part of becoming REAL, and she remembered her good friend's words. It was a bright, sunny summer morning when God took the little boy home to make him well. The mom wanted so much to go with him, and she hoped that God would take her home, too. She and the little boy had talked often of how beautiful heaven was, with all the flowers, and all the friends and even the Pizza Huts. But it wasn't time for the mom to go home yet, and she felt discarded and very lonely. She went to the park where she and the little boy had spent long hours playing and to the lake where she had helped him learn to swim, hoping maybe to find him. She remembered those beautiful days of his childhood when they were so happy and she became very sad. Of what use was it to be loved and lose one's beauty and become REAL if all ended like this?
And then a strange thing happened. All the tears that the mom had cried and all the pain she felt in her heart caused a beautiful flower to grow from deep within her, and the mom knew that this flower was love - a love that would enable her to share with and to understand others who were hurt and suffering - a love that she could now give to her family. The pain was no longer unbearable, and the loneliness faded away. The mom didn't mind so much that it hurt, for she was REAL, and she understood.
Joshua is the little boy who made me REAL. He was strong and courageous and wise. Throughout his illness, he gave that strength and courage to me, and he gives me wisdom when God knows I'm ready. Thank you, God, for Joshua, and thank you, Joshua, for making me REAL. I love you.
Original story by Margery Williams; retold by Marsha Catilla
