When I was in high school, I called myself a hedgehog. That's because when I felt overwhelmed by life, I curled up into a little ball and got a bit 'spiky'. Then, after four years on the Berkeley college campus, I became a cynic. I realized this near the end of my fourth year, and intentionally changed my ways.
And now, my thirty-fourth birthday is around the corner. I have grown much, but still have much to learn. The following is a story I wrote as a birthday present to my beautiful sister-in-law, but it is a story about myself.
The Splendor
Once, there was a forest, and in the forest, lived a splendor. Now, you may not know what a splendor is, because few people have ever seen one. Splendors are beautiful, lovely creatures, that, in general, are extremely shy. This may be because they have no shell, no quills, no horns, no claws with which to protect themselves. All they have is iridescent fur that is extremely, exceptionally soft and shiny. But with no form of protection, splendors flinch when lightning strike and thunder rumble, they run when dogs bark and owls hoot, and they hide from people. Which is what our particular splendor did.
Now, on occasion, the splendor would try to go on a short excursion, but then she would stub her toe, or a thorn would catch her skin, sometimes causing a small wound, and she would turn around and run back into her cave. After trying this several times, and each time proving to be a failure, the splendor decided to make for herself a shell.
“I will make for myself a shell!” she said.
And, determined, she took some mud and began forming a wall around herself. The wall went up and up, curving around and over her, until the splendor found herself in a little hollow ball of mud. By pushing a little, the ball rolled, and thus, the splendor went out and explored. Yes, it was difficult to see much through the mud, but the splendor was thrilled when she rolled by the thorns without a scratch. Feeling more confident, she rolled faster and deeper into the forest, but did not see that up ahead was a sharp rock. One bump against a point of the rock, and the splendor’s ball crumbled. The splendor, finding herself exposed once again to the wind, the cold, and thorns of all sorts, scurried home and decided to build for herself another shell.
“I will build for myself another shell,” she said.
And, twice as determined, she did, and this time, the wall of the shell was twice as thick. With pride, she rolled out again, past the thorns, past the rock, and deeper into the forest. Again, she could not see much, so when a bird came along, curious about the rolling, brown ball, the splendor was not aware of the bird’s sharp beak aiming to crack the ball open like a nut. One jab, and the ball crumbled. The bird, shocked by the suddenness of the ball breaking and the brilliance that shone from within the curious brown thing, flapped away. And the splendor, afraid and trembling, was again exposed to the elements. She hurried home faster than before, crying in fear and bleeding from scratches, and hid for a long time.
Only when everything in the forest was quiet, still and silent did the splendor emerge. She decided then that what she needed was a new shell. This shell would be thicker than all the shells that came before it. This shell would be muddier than all the shell that came before it. And this shell would be stronger.
“Nothing can penetrate my shell,” said the splendor as she rolled out into the forest anew.
And she was right. No thorn, no rock, no bird could break the ball. No wind, no plant, no animal could stop the ball. The splendor rolled and rolled, rolling right over other creatures, leaving little spots of mud on everything. Soon, all creatures learned to avoid the splendor. They ran when they saw the giant ball of mud rolling toward them. That is, everyone but one person. And this person did not happen to bump into the splendor. This person went in search of the splendor. And when he found her, he gently lifted the ball of mud and held it in his arms. The splendor, feeling the rolling motion of the ball stop, did not know what was happening, nor did she know that the person had carried her to a stream and was washing away the layers and layers of mud. Even as the clear water of the stream turned murky brown, the person did not stop, not until he had washed away all the layers. Then, in his soiled hands, he held the splendor. He gently washed the dirt from his hands and from the splendor’s fur until she once again shone with soft colors. And then, she lifted her head to see who held her.
“Why did you do this?” she asked.
The person answered, “Because your beauty cannot be seen when hidden by a shell and covered by mud.”
“But, sir,” the splendor said, “I did it to protect myself.”
“Yes, I know,” he replied, “in a world full of thorns, rocks, birds, and people, you cannot avoid pain. But you must learn that, though you will be hurt, it is more important to let your beauty shine.”
“But,” he added, as he placed her on the ground, “it is your choice.”
And the splendor, though she was still at times shy or frightened, never again made for herself a shell. And she never forgot what the person said about her beauty.
But we still have our traditions, and the children now are good about reminding me to get the books wrapped and the Christmas socks hung (and I'm almost done!) With much eagerness, they are anticipating Saturday, the official start of our twenty-five days of celebration!
