Henry is on an adventure. We know this not just because he is headed deep into a darkened, abandoned, mine shaft, but because he has brought with him his trusty flashlight and not just any flashlight, but a giant, yellow Eveready, the kind with a battery seemingly large enough to power a small car.
When I was watching this episode of my new favorite show Once Upon a Time a few weeks ago, I felt an immediate kinship to the boy Henry because of that giant, yellow flashlight. Months ago, I told the children at church during a Kid’s Talk, that I own many, many flashlights and I told them the reason was because I was afraid of the dark. And while that statement was 100% true, my fascination with flashlights comes from more than just a fear of the dark, it comes from a love of adventure.
Every child is born curious. Curiosity leads to exploration and while that exploration can sometimes be dangerous, we only grow when we explore, when we test boundaries and see what lies on the other side of the woods.
In Once Upon a Time, Henry doesn’t have to seek adventure; he lives it, unwillingly drawn into a fairy tale that has gone horribly wrong. While the town he lives in, Storybrooke, Maine, seems like every other small town in America, Henry knows it is very different. His adopted mother is the evil queen from Snow White. His teacher is Snow White. His therapist (because really who wouldn’t need one at this point) is Jiminy Cricket. Every person in the town, with the exception of Henry and his biological mother, is a character from the fairy tales trapped in an enchantment that has caused them to forget who they are.
Henry takes it upon himself to try and free the residents of Storybrooke by reminding them who they really are. He is relentless, almost obnoxious in this quest. He will do anything, lie, run away, cry, laugh, smile, and plot to free them. It’s a difficult task because you can’t just go up to someone and tell them they’re Snow White. Really. No really, you’re Snow White—and not be thought crazy. But Henry doesn’t give up even when the journey takes him to some truly frightening places.
When I was a kid, my thirst for adventure never got much farther than the backyard. Lucky for me there was an abandoned hotel that sat smack up against our yard. Those darkened windows, padlocked doors and burnt siding were a siren call for adventuresome children—namely those not named Kendra. I wanted in the hotel. I wanted to see what was inside, but I was scared to death of getting in trouble.
So I called my friend (we’ll call him Andrew) and told him I had found a way inside. That was mostly a lie on my part. I hadn’t really found a way, but I was sure Andrew would. And sure enough, about five minutes after arriving at my house, he found a way inside the hotel through the rotted out cellar doors. He took a candle down into the basement with him and I remember wishing he would take a flashlight, but when it came to adventures, flashlights were my thing and candles were Andrew’s.
He disappeared into the shadows.
A few minutes later, he raced back up the steps screaming.
“What? What?” I asked him.
He gulped for breath and then started laughing. “I sat on a frog,” he said.
I never made it inside the hotel, much to my parents’ relief I think. The hotel was torn down a few years later. And I had to be content to listening to Andrew’s tales of wonderment.
I wonder if I’ve changed any since childhood. I think that I still long for adventure, for quests, for discovering new things, but I’m terrified too. I wonder if I had been alive when Jesus was alive, if I had seen him collecting disciples and followers, would I have dropped everything and followed him or would I have worried about what my family would say, or who would take care of my cat while I was gone.
Quests and adventures come in all sizes from sneaking into spooky old buildings to saving a town from an evil curse. And we have to weigh the call. Perhaps trespassing doesn’t past the test, but surely saving thousands of people does.
I have my own giant, yellow, flashlight. It’s sitting on the desk next to my computer. It gets so little use it’s more of a decorative object. It’s also a reminder.
To be ready.
