Ryan's Ramblings

[The following reflection originally appeared in my book, Nudgings: Gentle Whispers, Holy Reminders.]

I have always been a big fan of Pooh, that “silly old bear.”

A.A. Milne, creator of Winnie-the-Pooh, wrote the beloved stories of the Hundred Acre Wood for and about his son, Christopher Robin. In the early 1900s, Pooh and his adventures captured hearts and imaginations, offering comfort and hope to a world reeling in the wake of World War 1.

Sometimes, life clouds our view of what truly matters. The world—and even our own reflections in the mirror—distract and overwhelm us with news, conflict, endless controversies, and the undeniable passage of time. Stories like Winnie-the-Pooh help us rise above the noise, awaken our imaginations, and remind us of things that are real—friendship, hope, love, and Truth.

In 1996, the London Times reported that Christopher Milne (the real Christopher Robin) had died at the age of 75. In response, poet Czeslaw Milosz* wrote an anecdote in the voice of Winnie-the-Pooh, reflecting on youth, aging, time, and eternity.

I love the exchange Milosz imagined between Christopher Robin and the “silly old bear.” As a child, I adored the stories of Winnie the Pooh—where toys were fast friends and the backyard was a world of adventure, limited only by imagination.

Milosz’s anecdote resonates deeply with me because it gives voice to something we all eventually discover: we live in the tension between childlike wonder and the steady pull of time.

The anecdote begins with Pooh describing the garden where he and his friends live. It is a place of peace and stability where all abide happily together. Pooh has little understanding of what lies beyond the garden, except that Christopher Robin once left for what seemed only a brief moment.

Wise old Owl explains that beyond the garden is the world of Time—an “awfully deep well.” Pooh cannot comprehend it. He does not realize that Christopher Robin’s brief “moment” was actually the span of an entire lifetime, filled with all the joys, sorrows, hopes, losses, and changes that come with growing older.

The anecdote ends with Christopher Robin returning from that strange world beyond the garden. Pooh asks him what it was like to fall into the deep well of Time. Christopher Robin describes growing older—long trousers, gray whiskers, and eventually death itself—and then quietly admits that all of it somehow seemed less real than the love and friendship they shared together in the garden.

And so Christopher Robin tells Pooh that he will not leave again… not even if called away for an afternoon snack.

That image lingers with me.

Currently, I am surprised to find that I am like Christopher Robin in his “moment.” I am beyond the garden of childhood innocence and unchecked imagination, and Time is having its way with me. I, in my long trousers and graying whiskers, am free-falling headlong into the unknown deep.

Yet, as I fall, I realize that I am even more like Pooh, a “bear of little brain.” Not because I face things I do not understand or care about, but because I so easily forget to fully embrace and appreciate what I already know. I take for granted the fact that each day—and the moments and people that inhabit them—are precious gifts.

So here I am, in the midst of my “moment.” It feels very real to me, yet I’m reminded that it is also fleeting. Scripture tells us that life is but a vapor. At this point, my imagination leads me to the only real thing—The Truth.

There is something beyond this passing life. What began in a garden long ago ended victoriously on a cross, and all my moments were redeemed and transformed in the depths of an empty tomb.

The author of the truest of anecdotes is Jesus.

In Him alone is found genuine love, forgiveness, relationship, and shared joy. In Jesus Christ is found the “only real thing”—a place where Time is no more; where there are no more tears, regrets, and goodbyes—just life together, in all of its fullness… forever.

Jesus says, “I go to prepare a place for you”—a place where we can say, along with Christopher Robin, “I won’t go anywhere, even if I’m called in for an afternoon snack.”

*Czeslaw Milosz, “Christopher Robin,” in New and Collected Poems: 1931-2001 (New York: Ecco, 2003), 656.