Once a King or Queen of Narnia, Always a King or Queen of Narnia

If I ever needed to join a twelve step program it would surely be for my addiction to books. I don’t ever remember not being able to read and being homeschooled in the 80s, my books and my brothers were my best friends though the order switched from time to time.

I remember long lazy summers plowing through 3 or 4 or 5 chapter books in a day as I swung lazily in the hammock I had crafted from two ropes and a blanket in our front yard. One of my most prized possessions was my own book light which clipped to the side of a book and allowed me to slip under the covers late late at night to finish whatever tale I was enmeshed in.

My mom liked to say her kids went through libraries not books and in the small towns we lived in, it was true. We ate up all the suitable books quickly and were always eager for new one's. Most of my extra money went to guess what? Yeah, books. There was a little Christian bookstore a few towns over and I’d save up in preparation for our trips to Trail, eager to descend into the treasure trove hidden beneath a bigger department store. With a small sign hanging on the street and stairs leading down into what looked like a dark basement, I would run ahead and rush in to find if they had any new additions to my current favorite series. On the outside it looked dingy but upon entering we found ourselves in a brightly painted, well lit haven, full of my favorite things in the world! Books!

Raised by conservative Christian parents, there was a longer list of books we were not allowed to read than the list that was deemed acceptable. This fact definitely contributed to the issue of burning through all the area libraries and needing to spend most of my allowance on book buying. By the time I was in fifth grade our own personal library was substantial and it only kept growing.

I still have many of these books in my family’s library and I often joke, though it’s kind of true, that people don’t usually help us move more than once unless they really like us. This year alone, I have passed along over 20 boxes of books and our collection remains sizeable. Some of these old friends still have the weathered and worn Dewey Decimal labels attached from the year I catalogued every book in the house. I was 11.

One book that stood just out of my reach as a child was, The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. I had friends who mentioned it as their favorite book and I caught a short clip about it on a TV show once. It intrigued me, but as a compliant child I knew it was actually "a bad book." There was a witch in it after all and we were not allowed to read anything that had demons or witches. Friends tried to assure me that these were actually written by a Christian, but I was not to be fooled. I stuck to my guns, avoiding the trap of this seductive series. I remember shaking my head when I saw them on my friend Shellee’s dresser, wondering how she could have been fooled into thinking it was a good idea to read about a witch.

* * * * *

Two decades passed, and my husband, with whom I had discussed my aversion to the C.S. Lewis books, insisted that they were a formative part of his childhood having been read to him as a young child and then he re-read them himself as bedtime stories throughout his teenage years. I was skeptical and even though I listened to his explanation about how they were a reflection of the author’s faith, I continued to view them as unholy fantasy.

One winter afternoon my husband came home from work with a large and heavy package tucked under his arm. He was so excited. Never one to keep a secret for more than 5 or 10 minutes, he immediately opened the bag and presented to us a beautifully illustrated hardbound copy of all 7 Chronicles of Narnia books. It was beautiful to look at and had cost him $50.00.

“But….” I started, but I couldn’t bring myself to steal his obvious delight. He was not one to initiate bedtime stories and regardless of my opinion of the book, how could I steal this from him or from the kids?

If only I had known then the path our lives would be taking, I would never have hesitated for even a second. My heart overflows with thanks that though reluctant, I embraced his enthusiasm and agreed to join in.

(I have tears and goosebumps typing this)

The Most Magical Winter Ever

After dinner, Kevin would make tea for himself and I and something for the kids. Everyone would don their pajamas and convene in the living room gathered all around dad who sat in the middle of our cream and navy striped couch. With the propane heater pumping out cozy heat, he would put an arm around whoever was closest that night and then open the hefty book. It had a red ribbon sewn into the binding to mark where he had left off the night before and as the ribbon slowly made its way through the pages of the book, I fell in love again with this man who changed everything for our family with one treasured bedtime story and a magical land called Narnia.

During the snowy evenings that winter we met many deep characters with struggles and stories we could both imagine and relate to. I was caught entirely off guard by just how much the books spoke to me. The children took on identities inspired by the stories and chose characters for all of us. We had 4 children at the time, including one who had gone to heaven before us just two years prior. He became Edmond. My oldest was of course, Peter Pevensie and the personality fit perfectly. My daughters were Susan and Lucy and I could see them filling these roles with ease.

Everyone agreed that dad was Reepicheep. The serious faced humor (that he didn’t always see as funny) just seemed to fit. Little did we know that Reepicheep’s journey in the Voyage of the Dawn Treader as prophesied by the dryad would so closely match my husbands. Almost as if the dryad prophesy was for him as well:

Where sky and water meet,

Where the waves grow sweet,

Doubt not, Reepicheep,

To find all you seek,

There is the utter East.

“My own plans are made. While I can, I sail east in the Dawn Treader. When she fails me, I paddle east in my coracle. When she sinks, I shall swim east with my four paws. And when I can swim no longer, if I have not reached Aslan’s country, or shot over the edge of the world into some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise.” Reepicheep in Voyage of the Dawn Treader

I saw myself in Aravis from The Horse and His Boy. Towards the end of her journey she encounters Aslan and questions him, wondering why things happen as they do. Aslan responds to her with the following quote which has served as a steady anchor in my life,

″'Child,' said the Lion, 'I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own.”

When life gets hard or confusing, I go back to this. The story I have to live and learn and share is but my own and no one else's.

Our home became Narnia during those toasty evenings and each of the children embraced their Pevensie child. I was drawn in completely and while I felt sadness that I had been missing this richness for the first three decades of my life, the timing was perfect and magical and fortuitous. We grew a family culture surrounding Narnia. We had family photos taken in Narnian costumes and when my oldest child turned 16 my husband knighted him with an amazingly realistic replica of Peter Pevinsie’s sword.

The knighting was part of a family tradition we created. At the age of 16 we held a Blessing Ceremony as a rite of passage for each of our children and invited all the people who were instrumental in any way in their lives to offer encouragement or stories either in person or through the mail. At our eldest's ceremony, my husband pretended he was going to knight him with a tiny plastic sword. Despite the fact that he was being a good sport, our son looked rather embarrassed as he knelt on the stage at the front of the church. With a flare for the dramatic, my husband raised the little sword to bring it down upon each shoulder of our boy. Suddenly, he tossed it over his shoulder exclaiming, “This is not the sword for a man! We need a man’s sword!” Quickly retrieving the real sword which had been hidden under the front row seats, he wielded it with both hands and with tears in his eyes, knighted his oldest son with an identical replica of Peter’s sword from the movie The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. The symbolism in our lives from C.S. Lewis’s powerful stories could fill it’s own book, but suffice it to say this was a significant moment for all of us.

We have five living children now, and this was the only Blessing Ceremony their dad made it to. He passed away suddenly, a year later, while we were expecting the youngest. His legacy lives on forever in each of us and an important part of that is, Narnia.

Their dad's gift began as a desire to share an important part of his history, his childhood with all of us; and transcended into a family identity and a source of solace and peace as we have learned to embrace our lives while reconciling the grief of great loss. Kevin had no way of knowing that he was giving us powerful tools to prepare us for what was to come.

So much more than just a bedtime story, these books were a lifeline that shaped and altered our family, giving purpose and direction to even the little one born three months after her daddy died.

I will forever cherish the winter their dad gathered us together and turned us into Narnians.

And when one of my children randomly yells, “For Aslan and For Narnia!” I always feel chills go up my spine and I catch a glimpse of my life and my family with their dad smiling and watching his own beautiful Narnians fighting to be their own best selves.

* * * * *

As I write I realize it is time for me to gather my children together and read this lovely book once more.

Thank you for joining me on yet another life story. If you enjoyed this, you may find more here.