Hi, everybody. Woody is my 1# favorite character from Toy Story. And even though I'm an adult now, I still hold and cry on him sometimes when things get rough. If you think of me and my family, please say a prayer for us! We're still struggling with losing my mom in July, and my little brother is having such a hard time grasping the reality of what it means.
I don't own Toy Story.
I know the Lord is going to take care of us, and is helping us just get up each morning, but I'm feeling sad, scared, and lonely right now. This story is very personal. Reviews are most welcome!
"Come on, Sweetie. Nap time." Mrs. Davis told her 4-year-old son, Andy as she set him down in his bed.
"No. I don't want to take a nap!" Andy protested indignantly. Mrs. Davis sighed heavily. It had been a long morning, and she really just wanted a few quiet hours to herself, to read a book, clean the house, ponder quietly, or better yet, sleep! But nap time had been more difficult to accomplish lately with her son.
"Andy," Mrs. Davis breathed deeply, trying not to lose her patience, "It's nap time! You need to lay down and go to sleep." Andy's eyes were red, and he had a dazed look. Yes, he was tired enough to go to sleep, but like had become his habit lately, he was fighting it tooth and nail. Andy started fussing. He shed tears and started wailing. Mrs. Davis bit her lip.
"I want Daddy! I want my daddy back." Andy whimpered, rubbing his eyes. Tears instantly filled Mrs. Davis's eyes and her heart ached for her little guy.
"I know, baby. I know!" She wept, holding him close and rubbing his small back. "I miss him too." It had been three months since her husband had passed on, and the grief was still very raw. What added to her salt in the wounds was that Andy did not understand what had happened to his daddy, even though she'd tried to explain it to him over and over again. "But Daddy got very sick, and he's in heaven with Jesus now."
"I want my daddy back." Andy cried. Mrs. Davis looked up helplessly at the ceiling. She leaned her head down and kissed the top of her son's head. Then her eyes fell on the lanky cowboy doll laying on the nightstand. She reached up and pulled him off.
"Here, dear. Here's Woody!" She told Andy cheerfully. Andy's eyes lit up and he reached anxiously for Woody. He wrapped his arms around the toy.
"Woody!" Andy exclaimed. He pulled the pull-string:
"There's a snake in my boot!" Woody said. Andy giggled.
"I know you miss your daddy, Sweetie." Mrs. Davis said sadly, stroking his head. "So do I. But he loved you more than anything else in this world! He loved you so much."
"Daddy gave Woody to me." Andy said, sounding a little more cheerful.
"Yes. Yes, he did." Mrs. Davis nodded. She helped Andy lie back. He was clutching Woody to himself. "Night-night, Andy." She kissed his head and turned on his lullaby music. "Woody will stay with you while you sleep."
"Mommy? Will Woody bring Daddy back?"
Mrs. Davis' heart sank. She hated when he innocently asked such painful questions. "No, Andy. Woody can't bring Daddy back. But he'll be your good friend. He's brave, like a cowboy should be. And kind, and smart. But the one thing that makes Woody special, is that he'll never give up on you...ever. He'll be there for you, no matter what. That's why Daddy gave him to you, to help you not feel lonely."
"Woody's my pal." Andy declared proudly.
"Yes." Mrs. Davis nodded, and closed the door. The minute the door clicked behind her, she burst out sobbing and hurried to her room so Andy couldn't hear her heartbroken cries.
Andy held Woody up on his chest, fiddling his little fingers over the vest, the badge, and the other features. Gradually, Andy fell asleep, with Woody tucked between himself and the pillow. Woody quietly reflected on the sadness that enveloped his family. He'd been Mr. Davis's favorite toy when he was a kid. Then he'd passed him on to Andy on his last birthday. Mr. Davis had become sick with cancer last year. The doctors had tried to help him, but the insidious killer sickness had won out. Just three months ago, Mr. Davis couldn't fight any longer and passed away. In his heart, Woody had promised his old owner that he'd look after his little boy. To Andy, Woody was his hero.
Mrs. Davis, in the quiet moments when Andy was sleeping, she herself had held Woody close to herself and cried on him. Having her husband's old toy was a much needed coping skill that she desperately needed at the time. Woody wished he could do more to help her. He wished he could speak to her and make her laugh over a childish antic her husband had done in the past, or just assure her that he'd help look after her son. All he could do was listen to her pour out her woes of pain and grief to him and let her wet tears drip onto his hat or vest.
Woody felt a painful ache of loss from losing the boy who'd grown up with him. They'd share so many memories together, mostly good and fun, but some difficult and sad ones too. Andy was so much like him, even at this age. The words Mrs. Davis had described Woody to Andy a little while ago, were the very same ones her husband had reminded Andy of, not long before he breathed his last. Woody was determined to make himself worthy of those words, to make them true for young Andy, who was going through a very tough, confusing time right now.
Making sure Andy was sound asleep, Woody wriggled from his arms and sat up on the bed railing, crossing his knees, and staring down fondly at his owner. A toy's fate was an uncertain thing, but Woody counted himself luckier than most, and he wouldn't give up his good family life for anything in the world! Andy was a good kid. Woody wanted to help him through this tragic mess. "Don't you worry, little partner." He said quietly. "I'll look after you. I miss your dad too. We all do. But I won't ever leave you! Not on my watch. You can count on me, Andy. I'll be there for you, always. As long as you need me, I'll be here."