Teddybear Theology

Growing up, I had a teddy bear that was precious to me.  Preh-shus! I dubbed him, Tedward. I have no idea why.  I suppose my desire to name things anything other than the most popular or common names started young.

When Tedward was snuggled up with me, in my bed, I was able to sleep sweetly.  Tucked under my arm on car rides, I felt secure.  But most importantly, rubbing Tedward’s furry ear against my nose became a source of great comfort.  (Although, The Nana and Captain Ahab were thankful that rubbing his ear to my nose took the place of sucking my thumb. In the 4th grade!  I so wish I were kidding. Sigh… Braces for five years, anyone?)

Eventually, that furry ear became less and less furry.  He lost an eye.  At some point, the threading, that was his nose, seemed to disappear.  And, somewhere along the way, he developed a hole on the inside of one of his legs that led to much Losing Of The Stuffing. (If only it worked that way in real life.)

I didn’t give two hoots about any of that, though.  He was still my bear.  And I loved him so.  I imagine that God feels much the same way about me.  I have lost some of my stuffing (my fervor for him).  Sometimes, my ability to sniff out the truth is dulled.  My eyes zero in on one good thing to the exclusion of all the better things He has for me.  But, he loves me still.  Thank you God!

That bear was so important to me, and had seen me through so much joy and sorrow, that I even packed him in my suitcase for my wedding night.  Ask Sweetman.  He was a bit taken aback when I informed him that this would happen, but he knew that Tedward was important and he loved me.  (It also confirmed in my heart that THIS was the man for me!)

And now, you probably know far more than you ever wanted to about that.

Fast forward almost four years.  The Nana graciously spent the first two weeks of Sweetboy’s birth with Sweetman and I to see us through the crazy roller coaster ride of Brand Spankin’ New Parenthood.

She noticed, the day that we were to bring Sweetboy home from the hospital, that Tedward was on my bed.  And he was looking worn.  She also, in her wisdom, knew that the last thing I’d be thinking about, that first night home from the hospital, would be Tedward.  So, she packed him in her suitcase with the intent of performing a little Stuffed Animal Surgery.

Somewhere around day 4 of being home, sleep-deprived and hormone-infused, I asked her if she’d seen Tedward.  She calmly explained that she noticed he was a bit threadbare and wanted to take him back home with her to repair him.

We both forgot about him.  Sadly, for almost a decade.

Until last week.  Last week, we received a Valentine’s Box in the mail from The Nana.  And, among other treasures, here’s what was inside:


You can read the note for yourself.  I cried.  And then practically hugged the stuffing right out of him.  He was instantly snatched from my hands by my Sweetgirl.  I attempted to chase after her and tell her his long and sweet history with me.  She had other intentions.

Please meet “Rosie Glitter”:


Oh. My. Stars.

Poor bear.

But, he is with me again.  Even if he’s now a she. And even if he’s been claimed by my children.

Much like my relationship with God.

Sometimes, I want to hug the stuffing right out of Him. He’s seen me through highs and lows.  He loves me no matter what and He’s always with me.  And I pray, oh how I pray, to pass my love for Him right on down to my sweet children. Oh, yes indeedy!


10 thoughts on “Teddybear Theology

  1. LOVE it! You are too cute and you and that bear will have such a story to share and share as each year passes in your kid’s lives… especially when you have pulled such a link to God out of the whole thing. Very sweet indeed ; )

    • Oh, Sue, I SO stinkin’ hope my Sweetgirl keeps him/her (that is just SO odd to have to work my brain around) long enough pass down to her own kidlets.

  2. Love this story…how wonderful that you got your bear back, newly fluffed!
    I had a bear too. I received it from a family friend, though, when I was 16. It was in honor of my great affection for Greg Louganis (yes, the Olympic diver). He also had a bear, which enamored me of him (is that how you say that…that’s how it came out and that’s how it’s staying) and his bear was named Gar. So I named my bear Rag, of course. I slept with that bear every night, it was just the right size to snuggle with. 🙂 There is a picture of Mike and I leaving our wedding reception; his hand is in mine on one side, and the bear is in my other arm. 🙂
    Sadly, a couple of years ago, I was in a major funk. Very depressed. I went through a phase of getting rid of things on purpose to be dramatic and in order to punish myself (I am guessing here…who can know the mind of a crazy person) (even if it’s your own). I threw away the bear, along with a couple of other things (my high school yearbooks, my fancy wedding portrait) (it was basically a head shot and I never really liked it). The bag sat on the back porch for a long time with that stuff in it, and I remember thinking that I wished someone would call my bluff. But no one did. And now I don’t know where the bear is. This makes me incredibly sad, and I’m sure you were looking for happier stories. I hadn’t told anyone until now. I would love to have it back. Maybe in heaven we’ll be reunited?

    • Christina girl! I’m praying that God reunites you with your bear, upon your very arrival, at Heaven’s door. Throwing things away in a fit was not above me, either. Working on one flaw at a time…

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