So I’ve been living a lie.
I learned that today. Turns out I have an imaginary child.
Not my inner child or anything. No.
My three year old isn’t real.
I had no idea. Until now, of course.
Kids like her cannot and do not exist.
It’s more insidious than fantastical. It’s less unicorn and more Boogeyman.
You see, a grown man…leading a group of grown women and men…they’re scared of my baby.
She cannot be, because if she was, well then. They’d be out of a lot. A lot of money, a lot of “research,” a lot of work proving that she isn’t. Out of answers, out of business, out of safety. Out in space where you yell “WHY?” and you get no sound back. Not even an echo.
God didn’t make her. She has been created by some cocktail of our wicked society and my evil agenda and maybe some musical shows about a high school. Hard to say, really.
Upon hearing this news about my own little one, positively vibrating with words held back and an underscore of something like disbelief mixed with anger, I stood up. I walked to the grown man who is scared of my baby to tell him about her and how she exists. Maybe if he knew….maybe he just doesn’t know.
And then I heard the phrase, in the most dismissive tone:
“Some amorphous thing.”
He wasn’t talking about my E directly; he didn’t, nor would he ever, meet her. He didn’t, nor would he ever, know her. But at the same time…he was talking about my E. I walked away. He doesn’t even know how much he doesn’t know. He can’t afford to acknowledge the three year old elephant I wanted to bring into the room. It won’t happen with him. To him.
But maybe there’s hope for others.
I told a good friend that there is a line between protecting E with my silence and being forced to protect her with my voice. I think we crossed that line today. I know we did. And that’s scary on an entirely new level. But there’s no escaping it. This is real. She is real. God-breathed, image-bearing, flesh and bone and soul real. Light and laughter and fire and wit and compassion and innocence real. She’s not the stuff of nightmares; she is an absolute dream come true.
To the man who covered an entire room with ignorance and fear, I say to you: I really am sorry. I am sorry that your chosen position is cowering, terrified of what you think is out to get you in the dark; in your dark. Flip on the light, see for yourself. There’s nothing to be so afraid of. Calm down.
Scared of a three year old.
That’s quite an imagination you’ve got.