Kansas prairie, the second day. She opened her eyes on a room with buckled floorboards. Her bed canted slightly to the left. But even before the first hint of dawn crept through the broken window, before the rooster crowed from the top of the fence post, Dorothy knew she was truly and safely home. There had been a moment at bedtime, after Aunt Em had kissed her goodnight and she had pulled the quilt up to her chin, when she hesitated before settling down to sleep. Was it fear or anticipation that kept her eyes wide open and staring into the shadowy corners of her room? Was there a chance she would awaken, not in the farmhouse on the flat Kansas prairie, but back among the lush green hills and gnarled apple trees of Oz? For Dorothy, the adventure beyond the rainbow had changed her. She had defied a witch and earned the respect of a wizard. She had negotiated the dangers and beauties of an alien landscape and returned home with a deeper understanding of herself and her world. For Dorothy Gale life would never be the same. (Inspired by MGM movie version of the The Wizard of Oz.)
Twisters sweep through everyone’s lives. Only a lucky few will never have to face the whirlwind. Having experienced life among the rubble, I’m familiar with the stages of grief and the development of coping skills. Recently it struck me that if you look at The Wizard of Oz from just the right perspective you find a fitting guidebook to the healing process, especially to the people you’ll meet along the way. The devastation and disorientation that comes after a personal loss send us outside of the familiar and leave us struggling to find our way back home. Like Dorothy, we wander, “a stranger in a strange land” (Exodus 2:22, KJV) . If we’re lucky, we will have companions on the journey to comfort and protect us. If we’re wise, we will let the long road back teach us the lessons we need to learn. Returning to what is left of our daily lives after surviving Oz, we have to assimilate the twister experience into everything that comes after.
When the wind dies down and the debris settles back to earth–when we are left standing alone with nothing but what we can hold in our arms, our first instinct is to look for a friendly face, a comforter, a guide. In the MGM movie, Dorothy’s first guide was Glinda, the good witch who appears right after the twister drops the farmhouse in Oz. Dorothy must have hoped Glinda was the cavalry riding to the rescue in a golden bubble. My own Glinda didn’t travel in a bubble or even balance her hat upon her nose, as the Witch of the North did in Baum’s book. In fact my Glinda was a guy, but even without the magic wand, he seemed heaven-sent. Here was someone who would know all the answers; who would tell me how to make everything right. But over time I learned that Glindas don’t possess any special magic. There are no free bubble rides here. Unlike Cinderella’s fairy godmother, whose assistance is an act of grace, Glinda makes you work for your salvation. With hints and serene smiles, she (or he) suggests there might be dangers on the road ahead and gives you shoes inappropriate to the walk. Glindas mean well and they can be charming, but avoid expecting too much from them.
As Dorothy meets the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion, she gathers the perfect escort for a road trip to the Emerald City. These guys didn’t have many practical skills and they had no means to send the little girl home to Aunt Em, but in loyalty and humor they were unmatched. When the way is rough, the best kind of friends are those who offer you wisdom without imposing their vision; who listen to your pain without making judgments; and who brave your anger even when they know its misplaced. These are the people who keep us moving forward step by hesitant step. And every wanderer should have a Toto, ready to defend us at the first whiff of sulfur, while loving us unconditionally every step of the way. When we are locked in a tower composed of our own grief and fear, these are the friends who will outwit the guards and storm the castle.
Finally, the most dangerous encounter along the journey is not the Flying Monkeys or even the Wicked Witch. The greatest threat to our safe return home is a wizard with big ideas. Wizards are never what they seem. These purveyors of flim flam tend to take on the mantle of a higher authority, grabbing sure-fire solutions to our problems from a grab bag of half-baked ideas. Unlike Glinda, a wizard will be eager to sell us an itinerary that suits their designs rather than our needs. My advice when dealing with wizards is to look behind the curtain. What you may find is a very good person, but a very bad friend.
My hope is that you never have to spend time beyond the rainbow—that the storms in your life never grow larger than a prairie dust devil. But if the whirlwind comes, pick your companions well and give yourself time. To paraphrase another familiar hero at the end of his “Oz” experience, “what I had only heard about, now I have seen” (Job 42:5). Job survived his cyclone with a new understanding. It is not consolation for what we have lost, but a sense of peace for moving ahead.
Being Dorothy 