Lion-hearted Josh

 Once upon a time there was a young maiden in charge of three little children. Their parents had gone away and left them with her to coordinate all sorts of childhood misadventures. She was so very lucky these were the children she was in charge of as they were the kindest hearted and sweetest children you could imagine and they loved each other very much. The oldest was quite earnest and serious - he seemed to have a plan for his life like all eldest children in every storybook. The girl belonged in the middle of her brothers - curly ringlets and honest glasses she peered up over as she looked up to meet people's gazes. The baby was true to what all babies should be - charming and innocent - most of his small stature was taken up by the large curly mop atop his head. They were the perfect trio.

In her time with them, the oldest was pushing the boundaries of childhood. He was ok to have someone to mind him but he almost felt he could do it himself because he was serious and knew what was expected. His siblings looked up to him and he took that pretty seriously. They all had loads of fun together enjoying banquet dinners and carwashes and lots of giggles. Rarely do you think of these young times when there isn't much to worry about. You remember these times with fondness and move forward with living life.

But sometimes those little ribbons of time wrap around your heart and you tie them to little pieces of new information about little kids who grow into teenagers who grow into young adults. You hear through the meandering grapevines how they get older, get the jobs they always wanted, get married and live big beautiful lives. You hold these truths like tissue paper around the real treasure that was those innocent and pure memories of their childhood selves that you tuck deep into the recesses of your heart as the definition of innocence and childhood abandon.

But even the deepest recesses where those protected pieces are treasured can't be safeguarded from the tragedies that live in this world. Despite being tucked away in the maiden's heart those children grew up and lived in the world with all its magnificence and sorrow. The oldest fulfilled his dream of becoming a paramedic and helped so many people that he was brave enough to go to the farthest areas of the realm to assist the people who needed him the most. Just like Peter in Narnia he was brave and fought for what was right. So this boy, now a man to be true, went to the Ukraine and did his best. There is no doubt he did his best. He died there, where his ancestors died, where so many of all their ancestors died, surrounded by war; just like so many generations before. The grief crossing oceans back to the hearts of those who loved him. Those little childhood hearts broken apart. Even the young maiden, herself now a mother of her own perfect trio, felt the reverberations of that from worlds away. The grief blowing off the tissue paper of the collected adult stories of his life she had heard through the wind and distilling this loss down to that little boy of maybe 10 years old. The monsters are supposed to stay in the storybook where the brave boy slays them. What an unimaginable loss at the age of 34. 

When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty, I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.” - C.S. Lewis