Tears of a bear

To begin, I'd like to share a few older writings... something I saw in my newsfeed today reminded me of this day way back when I was just out of college:

Last night, I had a dream about something I saw on the news yesterday.  A scene played out before me and I saw it through the eyes of a child.  A small brown teddy bear was sitting alone on a patch of grass, next to two votive candles, leaning up against a short brick wall.  Next to this little creature, barely more visible than a shadow, an angel sat crying, broken and lonely.  Her wings were bent and crumpled, as if they were in as much pain as her heart was.  The bear scooted over closer and quietly asked the angel why she was crying.  Was she mad about the state of the planet?  Was she upset about war, or perhaps hunger and poverty?  Was it (gulp) politics?  No, the angel replied, she was crying for a mother who had lost her child. 

A mother’s heart, she explained, is as strong as iron but can be fragile as spun glass.  An innocent child had disappeared and as had everyone searched this mother had hoped and prayed for a miracle.  It was as though her will alone could bring her little one back.  And when her poor baby was found, no longer alive, this same mother didn’t know who to become angry with first.  For a moment, she called herself a bad mother. Then, screamed that the police hadn’t tried hard enough to save her child.  And then, somehow she was also mad at God for not saving her child.  But, the angel said quietly, the Father weeps as I do for those grieving and in pain. The bear was quiet, not knowing what to say to make things better, which is what teddy bears are supposed to do when someone is upset.  He felt he was the one not doing his job now. 

Suddenly, both saw a face they felt they should know, and a sweet little child lifted up the bear and held him close to her heart.  Don’t cry, she said.  Who left you here to shiver in the cold, wet grass?  Teddy tried to smile, but tears stained his fur.  They left me here for you, he said.  She laughed, and smiled at him.  That doesn’t make sense, she told him.  You must be for Mama.  He was confused but the child soon explained.  Mama is sad because I had to go.  Please love her, she said, like I do, like I would if I could stay.  Tell her not to cry anymore and give her hugs.  Please?  He nodded, saying he thought this seemed fair and that he would certainly do his best. 

            As the precious girl set down the steadfast teddy bear, he waited in the night, knowing the vigil would be long until the sun came up again.  But the angel kept him company as he sat by the candles, flowers, balloons and cards which were becoming a sodden mess in the dew.  And when I saw the same images of the wall by the woman’s home on the news the next morning, I could almost see the angel there beside the small brown bear, listening to the prayers for healing to begin.  And I added mine to them.