The Last Unicorn and a Better Remembrance

“The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone.”

This is how Peter S. Beagle swings open the door to the world of his classic, The Last Unicorn. But before I was able to make words out of letters, and stories out of ink on a page, my unicorn lived in the 1982 animated classic under the same name. Her world unfolded to me again and again in a VHS found on the second-from-the-top shelf of a movie rental in the corner of a grocery store, because—once upon a time—that was a thing. There was no lilac there; There was a lot of yellow, franticly flashing and buzzing of overhead light. But I felt the magic in standing on my tip-toes to push the tape across the counter. I held the magic in my throat, knowing what would happen to my unicorn, and longing to be caught up in it again. And later, I would sit entranced on the floor of my grandmother’s living room, watching the medieval Unicorn Tapestries coming to life in the opening credits.

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The Heavens Torn Open: Why I Wrote a Book about Covenant Baptism

Jesus nurtured our family with the grace of green pastures and still waters, and— by his mercy— our children were not living on the outside of the gate looking in. They were with us in the midst of the visible church. Here, in this metaphorical pasture, we would sing the love songs of our shepherd over them and wait in great hope for the day when they would hear His voice and respond in faith—embracing all of the promises of Jesus that were spoken over them at their baptism

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