Childhood, C.S. Lewis and Books

"There were books in the study, books in the drawing room, books in the cloakroom, books (two deep) in the great bookcase on the landing, books in a bedroom, books piled as high a my shoulder in the cistern attic, books of all kinds reflecting every transient stage of my parents' interest, book readable and unreadable, books suitable for a child and books most emphatically not.

 Nothing was forbidden to me."

C.S. Lewis,

 Surprised by Joy, The Shape of My Early Life.

Recently my brother's position at Palmer Homes for Children led him to meet up with Ben Carson, presidential candidate and well known physician in pediatric surgery. 

Ben's mother has for many years been a she-ro of mine. She decided to turn off the t.v. 

I almost don't need to complete the story, because it has become so well known, but that's where the story for my kids seem to stop-- in pain. They know when mommy thinks about Ben Carson, t.v. goes off and the books come out. But truthfully, I don't think they care. Recently, my youngest, Henry 'Rabbit' as he's known at tennis class, has been reading aloud to me. He brought home the class read-aloud, The Tale of Despereaux, and read 2 chapters each night for several nights in a row. This may seem odd at bed-time, aren't I, the parent supposed to be doing the reading? Well, if he doesn't read, he falls asleep. He's exausted by the end of the day. He's a contender for the energizer bunny. 

But, like Isak Dinesen, I wonder, will he have a song of me? What will that song sound like? Sharp shrieks and snaps, or snuggles and love, and consistency. Will he remember me as the jailkeeper or the one he could count on? Even after last night where he thought he'd been left at church.... oh my, what comes around goes around,
 but for me the karma just needs to change(ironically, I was left many, many times at church, weddings...now I do it to my kids?) 

I really believe he knows ho much I care, about him, and that there is 
some reason we 'go to so much trouble' to manage and guide him. 

From the breakfast of lucky charms at school, or the overdose of t.v. in the afternoon, we try to curb, guide, teach, promote, whatever you want to call it- censure? Whatever... 

I was blessed with him, in God's providence and wisdom,

 to be his guide,

 his life's mother. 

I. am. the momma. 

So when I read, 'Nothing was forbidden to me,' I see a child in a well chosen library of an adult, but not selected for a child. Not one that has censored out all the books that have a love scene, or knights battling to the death, but one that has been purchased, collected, received from a variety of means. I look around mine and see the years of sifting through, sorting and de-accessing, filtered by my own choices, not for my children's delight.  I look back and realize my parents books were chosen from their spiritual bend, not to influence me, but because of who they were and what they would naturally choose. MY books as well as my life, may be a reflection of me later, and will most certainly, for better or for worse influence my children. But it will be his choice, just as it is mine, and just as it was C.S. Lewis' choice to decide which we might re-read again, take ownership of, and become the person we are meant to be. 

(Reading Rock-a-bye Farm for the millioneth time. Henry 3, Jack 6.Baton Rouge, LA 2009)