Babe is a children’s novel about a pig who becomes a sheep dog. Pig. Sheep-pig! Despite this deeply philosophical foundation, it’s a funny, enjoyable tale. In the last third of the book, there is a scene where wild dogs break in and worry the flock of sheep, killing an old ewe who was one of Babe’s dearest friends.
The first time we finished this sad chapter, I put the book down and looked at my five year old, who seemed to be choking back tears. “Are you sad?” I asked.
In a blink she had climbed onto my lap, wrapped her arms around my neck, and was sobbing so hard her little body shook.
It was a good moment to ask why we do this. Why do we read stories? Why do we read SAD stories? Why do we do this to ourselves when there is already too much sadness in our lives?
This time I found the answer close by.
“Maa’s story is over,” I told her. “It’s always sad when a story ends. But Babe’s story isn’t over. He keeps living, and more things happen, and some of them are very good things.”
We kept reading. We used our imaginations to experience a truth about the world: Stories end, but The Story continues.
That’s something she will need to know when the stakes are higher. When she feels alone and adrift in the backwash of loss, she’ll need to believe that life goes on. Not just existence, but life. The story.
And in some way, when we near the end of our own stories, we all want The Story to go on without us. There must continue to be laughter, and hard work, and lovers uselessly mired in each other’s eyes, or why have we lived? It is the Great Story that gives ours meaning.
For a few moments on a Saturday afternoon, an old sheep and a silly pig, both imaginary, led my daughter and I snuffling into this dark truth, and back out into the sunlight.
She was belly-laughing not ten minutes later.
You can find him at JamesDWitmer.com.
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Love, love this post. Thank you for capturing that moment for us.
🙂
What a great post, James. Whew.
Thanks, Laura. It was a precious moment; I’m thankful to have captured it.
This brings me right back to my childhood living room, laying in mother’s lap as she read me the last chapter of Bridge to Terabithia, because I couldn’t see the text through my tears. That formative understanding of grief – that it is both okay to grieve, to be comforted AND that stories continue – has certainly shaped my story, but I’m not sure I realized it until now. Thank you for this.
Thanks, Annie. That’s a neat memory.
I remember my own first experience like this (Where the Red Fern Grows), but I got only a whiff of the goodness in it, and didn’t recognize it until much later.
This is precisely what Hutchmoot did for me last year, sitting there the first night hearing Andy Gullahorn sing, “The story isn’t over yet,” and the grief and the pain and all the hard things of the prior year were put into perspective. As you say above, James, not just survival but life goes on.
This is beautiful. what an wonderful image of you and your daughter crying and laughing together. She will carry this moment with her forever.
Thanks, Jeremiah. It was a gift for sure.
So enjoyed this! Thanks!
Thanks, Helena. I’m glad!
My 9 year old and I have been reading The Yearling for about 7 months. We have been living on Baxter Island as a part of the Baxter family all these many months. We have felt and cared and have experienced their culture. We have laughed together many times. We have had many good conversations. Yesterday I cried as the events transpired that ended the story. The word pictures and descriptions crafted by Marjorie Rawlings have inspired my imagination and have given us a deeper love for enjoying the power of story, together. I had a little fawn figurine to give to Isaac upon our completion of the book. Isaac has always had a deep love for God’s creatures great and small. This book connected with a deep longing he has for nature and I hope the memory of this experience stays with him forever. ❤️
I love this one. Thank you.