The Power to Make Things Real

When we moved from Pennsylvania to Oregon, I did a major purge of everything we owned. After all, how much could we haul 2,705 miles across the country?

While this was a monumental task, there’s something freeing about letting go of items you no longer need. You feel lighter, less encumbered. Still, releasing your stuff is never easy. I spent hours scrutinizing each piece of furniture, streamlining my wardrobe, and meticulously combing through closets and drawers. I donated, gifted, and tossed all items we wouldn’t need in Bend.

One of the most challenging parts of this process was reducing “my memorabilia.” Each object held a distinct memory, and I had to decide whether it traveled to our new home or stayed behind. I kept the class photos, newspaper clippings, sorority pin, and letters from my grandparents. Reluctantly, I tossed the pledge paddle, yearbooks, and Girl Scout sash covered in badges (but only after taking pictures so I’d have a keepsake). After placing my most treasured items in a large Tupperware bin and smaller plastic container, it hit me … fifty-eight years of my past was now condensed into three cubic feet.

Several weeks ago, an unexpected urge propelled me to search for a photo from my childhood. I never found that picture, but while searching through the two containers in our storage closet, I discovered a treasured toy at the bottom of the Tupperware bin—a tabby cat hand puppet I’d named Ginger.

Ginger’s missing her right ear. Pieces of straw now stick out of her head. I think one of our dogs was the culprit.

Slowly, I put my hand inside the puppet. It still fit. I tucked Ginger under my chin, like I had done as a child while falling asleep. Her velvety fur caressed my skin. I inhaled that oh so familiar smell. Forgetting about the photo I’d hoped to find, my eyes focused intently on this puppet that had been a birthday present. Memories flowed through my mind.

After several minutes basking in these nostalgic moments, I reluctantly returned Ginger to the bin and carefully secured the lid. Maybe I’d find the picture in my office.

And so, I left Ginger in the bin in the storage room, not thinking about her until today when a podcast host made a comparison between a quote from The Velveteen Rabbit and our personal evolution. Below is the passage she referenced:

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?” “Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.” “Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit. “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.” “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?” “It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

Immediately, her analogy resonated. I had made Ginger Real. My tears that matted the fur on the top of her head and those kisses that shined the pink thread on her nose transformed her from a hand puppet to a beloved confidant and comforter. There’s no doubt my “little self” believed Ginger was Real. That explains why I kept her all these years.

This small gray tabby embodied my little girl’s unconditional love and imagination for what could be. In my mind, I made a cat puppet come to life. Maybe this is what led me at twenty-two-years-old to get Tabitha, a beautiful gray and white kitten. She reminded me of Ginger. I supposed I needed to make something Real in my world then, but perhaps I wasn’t quite sure how to do so.

When do we stop believing we have the power to make things Real? Knowing the right people, possessing enough money, or rising to positions of power are not ways to create a new Reality. Something can only become Real through unconditional love and a childlike belief in what can be. It requires a purity that sees the truth in another, a hidden beauty most cannot fathom.

Even though we’ve grown up, we still hold the power to make things Real. The choice is ours. We can continue to see what’s wrong, complain, and blame … or we can make a conscious shift and view the world differently. Only when we lead with love, recognize truth, and embrace hope can we make things Real. We each possess this magic that finds solutions, fosters understanding, and creates peace.

Just for today, search for the beauty in a “shabby” situation. Can you notice an unexpected glimmer? Instead of witnessing what is through an adult’s eye, try on a child’s perspective and look for what can be. Remember, you have the power to make things Real. But first you must believe.