{In which I write a letter to Robert Louis Stevenson regarding his poem entitled “Happy Thought” from A Child’s Garden of Verses}
Dear Bob:
You don’t mind if I call you Bob do you? Good. These words of yours are framed and hanging on the wall of our mountain home. So I have the good fortune of viewing them often. And have I told you how very much I appreciate the beauty of your poetry and especially this verse.
But would you please tell me a little of what you mean. Because I have not seen a happy King. Though they may exist or they may have existed. I am sure some have been happy. But some are just mean. And really there is so much responsibility that comes with being King.
So I doubt. And I am not normally a doubting person who wears a dour face. Rather I see the world as full of promise and hope, mercy and grace. But a happy king or queen I have not seen, though the modern day ones seem truly content. And this is not meant to be political discontent. Or even about politics, no not at all. But rather about Joy and its source and how we are wired by God. To love, others and moments that cover us in delight. To give and to serve, to offer and bow low and Christ-like.
Bob, maybe you wrote at a time when Royals were filled with grins from their things. Or maybe I am too literal reading your verse. Surely you don’t believe they were truly happy, as a result of their things.
But really that is not the point. The point is can man be truly happy as a result of his things? Well maybe if things are all gifts from above. I think you meant things that came straight from God.
Because more and more I find that the world is filled with wonderful things that aren’t really things,not at all. Like miracles and healing. And beauty at nightfall.
The second a firefly lights up his small light. And you happen to be there to see it all aglow. Or when the hummingbird lights on a bush. And the Earth is still while he sips with his tiney tiny bill. Or God wonders and marvels like the stars in the sky. That gather up like a dipper so big or so small.
There are “things” such as forgiveness and mending of ways, hope and fresh starts after seasons of long wait. New born babies and reconciled husbands and wives. Marriage and family, tenderness, meekness and soothing a soul. Helping the weary and drying a tear. The end of war.
There are things like laughter so deep that you ache when you stop, long enough to catch your breath, breath deep and get started, all over again.
There are smells like the Blue Ridge in July, with wildflowers, cut grass and fresh soil from the earth, swirling and landing up under your nose, like fresh baked treats rising up to the sky and toes tickled by a cold dog nose.
There are families gathered around by the fire, at night, in the summer telling stories while curled up in a ball, savoring the gift of their days, that end too often with no warning none at all. That pull the curtain on our life like the end of a play.
But I know your heart and with poets that matters a lot, to me anyway. I want people to see my heart when they read what I say.
I think you meant wonder and discovery ,not things. Though things in themselves are not saved just for Kings.
And Kings can not be happy surrounded by things. Because God made us. all peoples, to love others not things. And things are not terrible, no not at all.
For there is the spring at the turn, the bend in the road, at the bottom of the hill. Where I love to stop every night and every year, taking sips and standing there quiet and still.
And the moon when it is full, is technically a thing.
And then there is Peace and Patience, Charity and Faith.
God grabs our hearts with a world full of “things”. But careful we most be and delicately we must trod.
Because things can rob us of time with each other and God, He knows that the things can get in the way.
Robert, I knew what you meant and were trying to say. And I think Robert sounds more respectful than Bob. And I choose respect and dignity. They are two very valuable things.
Sometimes it is fun just to write words that play
with poets that have gone before
whose words I adore
and have a laugh on a whim and giggle each day
and since you’ve been gone things have gotten quite serious
I should say
Your words are a gift
Every line word and phrase
And I wonder what you would think of
“Things” these day.
Signed,
An Admiring Poet Fond Of Your Work
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Joining Laura at Laura Boggess dot com
elizabeth w. marshall 