Dear Becky,
I was thinking this morning how enamored with unicorns you use to be. Do you remember? Do you remember those purple unicorn sheets you had as a kid? Those were the softest sheets! I remember how you used to stare at those unicorns and let your mind wander to magical places as you drifted off to sleep. I wonder now what adventures you must have been on.
I remember a few years back when you said you had started to see unicorns everywhere and how it made life feel like a scavenger hunt for the magical. You used to tell me stories about how you’d lose things around the house, and you’d say you found a unicorn when you happened upon them. I always thought you were a little ridiculous, but I appreciated how you infused the day to day with your whimsy. You were so childlike in the best of ways back then.
When did you stop looking for the unicorns?
When did you let the magic slip through your fingers? Listen, I don’t mean to overstep. And I’m sorry if my questions make you uncomfortable. It’s just that you used to be relentless in the hunt for spiritual magic...and now...well, you just seem tired. When did the unicorns disappear?
Remember how you loved the movie The Last Unicorn when you were little, but then when you watched it as an adult you were shocked by how dark it was? You weren’t sure you wanted your children to see it. But do you remember how none of that bothered you when you were small? Do you ever ask yourself why?
I was talking about music with a friend recently. I mentioned really liking a certain musical artist that I relate a lot to. My friend cringed saying that artist was “too dark”. I laughed. However if I’m honest, it made me angry. I wasn’t mad because they rejected my choice; choices are subject to taste. No, I was mad because it seemed like a rejection of the reality that sometimes life is dark. I was that way too once--playing like an ostrich to anything uncomfortable. But eventually it became too much to turn a blind eye to and I’m so glad it did. Sure, life can be relentlessly ugly at times. And sure, it was easier to pretend it’s not. But if we’re honest with ourselves, Becky, you and I both know life isn’t always rainbows; invalidating the hard with a spiritual spin only leads to disillusionment down the road. But here’s the thing, Becky: when life gets really foggy, sometimes you have to lean into the darkness to find where the light is coming from.
Am I giving you permission to cast off restraint? No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. What I’m saying, Becky, is that sometimes we are called to walk through darkness and we aren’t doing anyone any favors by trying to pull a Jonah. You can spend your whole life trying to avoid it, but eventually it will swallow you whole.
Here’s the thing: It is impossible to experience the fullness of joy without choosing to be vulnerable to disappointment or pain. Vulnerability takes courage, Becky. I know it’s scary. Having courage doesn’t mean that you’re not scared any more than it is a promise that you won’t get hurt. No, courage is being scared, accepting the risk, and doing it anyway. Sure, vulnerability is uncomfortable when it leads you to sit on someone’s couch and cry so hard you can’t breath. Or how about when vulnerability looks like the awkward silence while you fall apart on the phone. But sometimes it’s more lighthearted than that and it remains to be true that the best of friendships are forged in the uncomfortable spaces.
I have so much more I could say, Becky, but it all really comes down to this… Unicorns walk the woods. And I suspect you quit looking when the hunt led you to the edge of the wilderness; I suspect you walked the perimeter before giving up for fear of what you’d find in the dark…or maybe what you’d lose. There’s no shame, friend, but you were born of the light keepers--you carry it inside you. It goes where you go. Just like you weren’t afraid of a dark and creepy movie as a child, because you knew that you’d see the magical glow of the sparkly unicorn in the end. The magic of finding Jesus in the darkest places is that of finding your unicorns again. Those who are familiar with darkness know the truth-- that light is easiest to find there.
Remember the unicorns, Becky!
-Lauren