When I was a little girl, I had a 7" record of Disney's Sleeping Beauty, and I listened to it over and over and studied the pictures in its accompanying storybook. To this day, I love Merryweather. (She reminds me a little of my Grandma Shafer, although not as much as Ladybug from James and the Giant Peach.)
After Maleficent curses Baby Aurora at her christening, Merryweather softens the promise of death to that of deep sleep. She and her fairy friends sequester Aurora in a woodland cottage, and Aurora's father King Stefan orders all spinning wheels burned; still, in the end, Aurora pricks her finger, and Merryweather's sixteen-year-old weakening of Maleficent's curse protects the princess from death.
I think of Merryweather most everytime something goes wrong with the log cabin or minivan, and things go wrong with the log cabin and minivan very often.
Because here's the thing: I don't know how it works up there in heaven. I don't want to complain too much because...what if a winged creature has been negotiating on my behalf? I can almost hear my guardian angel, now: "I know she needs to be tested and tried, Lord, but how about we remove our protection from her hot-water heater, dishwasher, oven, and forced-air heat system...but not from her little children? What's that, Lord? Oh, good idea! We'll remove our protection from the rack-and-pinion-gear system on her minivan, too, but just at opening of her driveway...not in the middle of town."
What if?
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