Once upon a time there was a young princess named Brooke. She was cute, and sweet, and brought joy to all who knew her. She had the power to bring a smile to everyone, even the old king that lived next door, who sometimes found it hard to smile. Brooke was well cared for, well loved, and yes, indulged by those who knew her best. But Brooke had a powerful tool, a magic tool, something that could not only make her smile, but could heal all wounds, and this tool belonged to her alone.
When Brooke was quite small a friend, with all the love in her heart, crocheted a green and white blanket for little Brooke. This blanket quickly became her most favorite thing. Blankie had to travel in the car with her, had to sleep with her, had to be held while the princess ate. Blankie was watched over, dragged through the yard, snuggled with when watching movies, wrapped around her when cold, but most of all, blankie, when rubbed on or over a wound big or small performed the magic of making things “all better”. Blankie is cried over when it’s washed, (what if it never comes out of that big old monster that swallowed it whole?), and given great kisses and snuggles when it arrives back in her arms, clean once again.
Brooke was not selfish with this potent magic! She runs to get the blankie if someone has an owie and very generously rubs the wound with all the faith in the world in the magical healing power of the blankie. If the wound were caused by Brooke, her act of repentance was to share the healing power of blankie to make it better.
Most children can be healed by the power of a mothers kiss, but although Brooke will take a kiss, the rubbing of the blankie causes all tears to cease and the world to once again be in the right order. When Brookes mommy had surgery and Brooke visited the hospital, we told her mommy had an owie so she had to be careful with mommy. Brooke reached for blankie and carefully laid it on her mommy’s tummy and patted her gently, pronouncing that mommy would be “all better”. It was so sweet we all stood around with tears in our eyes. Yesterday she pounced on my daughter, her aunt, and they collided with a thud. Brooke was not hurt but her aunt was left with an owie. Brooke kissed, patted, and rubbed blankie on her for all she was worth in her sorrow over the hurt and her desire to make it better. Her aunt says that went farther than any spoken apology ever could have.
What causes a child to latch onto a favorite blanket or toy? What makes it special or have the power to heal? I don’t know. I know sometimes as parents we get all freaked out and worried when our child seems to become obsessed with something, but it rarely lasts longer than kindergarten and even less often becomes a genuine concern. My kids had their own special things and the memories I have of those times and snuggles always bring a smile to my face. One daughter couldn’t sleep without Elmo, one had a special doll that sang her to sleep, one had a stuffed cat that remained on her bed long after serious reconstructive surgery, one slept in his cowboy vest, that grandma had made him, for months.
Childhood is very fleeting, much more so than we know. A special blanket to ease us through those first few years of constant change and growth isn’t such a bad thing. She’s learned she can’t take it to church anymore, she doesn’t drag it over to the old Kings house, but just yesterday when I removed a sliver from her hand that magic blankie was the only thing that could make it “all better” and it worked beautifully! She wanted Nana to kiss it, but she still wasn’t healed til blankie performed the magic. She has perfect faith in that blanket, that’s proof that a little faith goes a long way.
Who knows why she latched onto this particular thing. Maybe because it’s her favorite color? Maybe because it started out so soft when new and she was just an infant? Maybe because it was made with love, and we all know that love heals all wounds.