What it means to be real

The Velveteen Rabbit, Easter, and Saying Yes to Unexpected Opportunities

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Welcome to Walk & Talk, my monthly offering to share stories, inspiration, and hope. I’m Kim Knowle-Zeller, mama, pastor, and writer. I’ve lived in West Africa and one summer hiked 500 miles across Spain, and now I call Cole Camp, MO home with my husband, two children, and dog. I love to walk, talk, and share stories. Thanks for being here!

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The day I started subbing in the Title Reading Room at our local elementary, a trio of fifth graders read The Velveteen Rabbit. The faded yellow cover with the beloved rabbit invited conversation on our own well-loved stuffies and toys. One girl shared of her cow that came passed down from her father and now sleeps beside her every night. A boy regaled us with a larger than life stuffed dog that claims a spot in his bedroom. The common thread woven through their stories and the one before us in the book — love.

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, Not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become real.”

The 50 days of Easter are upon us. If there’s any season that invites us to consider what it means to be real, it’s this one. We’re living in the Easter season yet the sting of death, and the sadness of Good Friday, isn’t as far as we’d like it to be. To be real, alive and loved, we experience the fullness of pain, sorrow, and joy. To be real means to grow and change. To be real means to wrestle with this life and our place in the world.

Maybe you’re in a season of doubt.

Or you have unanswered health questions.

The doctor visits are long and the time waiting on the phone full of nerves and frustrations

You may be waiting for a chance to begin a new job or waiting to hear from that college.

Your community may be wrestling with issues of race and poverty and how to welcome those who are different.

Perhaps your congregation is in the midst of transition or asking hard questions about its future.

Maybe, you’re just tired of asking questions and want things to be how they’ve always been.

Maybe you’ve been loving someone who has not reciprocated the same care.

Easter, the season of resurrection, invites us to see with Gospel eyes the hope of what could be.

Right now I find myself in the classroom. It wasn’t something I planned, but I had a willingness to see a need and step into a role that I felt the Spirit nudging me to consider. I’ve been volunteering at the school a few days a week and enjoying my time with students. When I’m here, I feel alive, and hopeful. I sense God inviting me to listen to the stirrings of my heart — the love I have for books and kids.

In these next few weeks, I invite you to listen to how God is stirring your heart – for yourself, your family, and your community. Where do you sense the Spirit urging you forward to something new? Where in your communities and congregations could God be calling you forward?

Easter meets us with the promise of an empty tomb. Easter says: come and see how I am about to make all things new.

And perhaps that newness will be found in you.

In the hope of the resurrection,

Kim

A Blessing for the Easter Season

Spring seems especially brilliant this year, 
as does Easter’s promise of resurrection. 
Perhaps, though, I’m attuned to it differently.
More alert. 
More awake. 
More present. 
Or maybe the darkness, 
death,
violence, 
and grief has been too prevalent. 

In the bright purples, 
the wild flowers dotting the grass, 
a chorus of birds, 
a flowing stream, 
the woodpecker’s morning greeting, 
the wind in my hair, 
the sun shining on faces; 
in all these things
I hear the quiet, gentle, voice of resurrection. 
“Look and see, new life is here.”

The world is being reawakened, 
as is my soul 
from the darkness of winter, 
the weeks of sickness, 
the worry for friends and family, 
the fear of death. 
I am ready, 
to be astonished and surprised. 

My daughter cheers, “Summer’s coming!” 
I join her in that song of hopefulness and joy. 
But for now, for today, 
it’s spring. 

The season of resurrection and new life. 

A time for the thawing of my heart, 
the planting of small seeds, 
for waiting to see the first green sprouts. 
I hear the quiet, gentle, voice of resurrection. 
“Look and see, new life is here.”
The promise of a new day, 
inviting us to savor its presence. 
to bask in the glory, 
of all that is here, 
and all that is to come. 

Summer’s coming, yes. 
But first, signs of resurrection. 
The shining brilliance
found in a flower, 
about to open towards the sun.

So grateful for you, friend! I’ve been writing this monthly newsletter on the first Wednesday of every month for almost four years! It’s an honor to know you’re reading my words. It’s a joy to be connected and hear your stories. I hope we can continue to walk and talk for years to come.

P.S. I have a favor for those of you who have read The Beauty of Motherhood. Would you be willing to write an Amazon review? They are so helpful for getting others to know about our book! Anyone can review on Amazon whether you’ve bought the book from them or not. Thank you!