Uncle Remus & the Transforming Power of Love

By Ronnie Bray

I noticed Pansy* when we moved from Bradford and joined the congregation in Huddersfield where I worked as a custodian.  She was one of four daughters looked rather plain whilst her sisters were beautiful, and she knew it.  She had a sensible face, open and honest with two piercing brown eyes.  I decided that she would be one of my projects.  It was not hard.  Pansy was a loving child with an honest heart and a generous spirit.

I have made a career out of making children feel loved and appreciated.  At least, since I became Uncle Remus.  I will explain.  Maria Conway was a divorced mother with four children and an abundance of talent.  There was nothing that Maria could not do, whether it was remodel her house, create a prize-winning garden, make a dress fit for a princess, or make and decorate cakes with the same distinguished artistry with which she created oil paintings.  

She was the leader of the younger children’s programme at church when she decided to move into show business.  The production was to be a showcase for the talents of the children.  Most of them did not know they had any talent, but Maria would take care of that.

The show was based loosely around Uncle Remus from Disney’s Song of the South.  She asked me to play the part of the old gentleman and, being stage struck, I accepted.  However, Derrick Siswick took my part in the actual production, because I had heart problems that hospitalised me shortly before the show opened.

During rehearsals, I made a life-changing discovery that was also responsible for changing the lives of others.  Being Uncle Remus, the only adult part in the programme, brought me into contact with about twenty-five children. 

I had seen them all before, but it was only now that I got to know them.  I talked to them on their level and generally interacted with them.  I was surprised how accessible and friendly they were once I had made the effort. 

I got to know and appreciate them as individuals with unique and wonderful personalities.  They shared their jokes, their fun, and their concerns with me in a most open way, and so inaugurated my personal ministry to children.

Every time I saw Pansy, I asked her how she got to be so beautiful.  Her reply was always a shy but delighted giggle that told me that she believed me when I said that she was beautiful.  The most amazing thing was the change that took place in her face.  From a plain deadpan expression, she began to wear a smile almost all of the time.  

Everybody knows what a smile will do to a face.  It turns on the light, signals ‘friendly’ to others, and makes the wearer happy.  The smiling face will never lack friends.  Friends supply the befriended with the nourishment of love, the confidence of self-affirmation, and the freedom to experiment with relationships, consequently opening a wider and more satisfying world of opportunity.  Thus equipped, the child is liberated from the monsters of self-doubt that can haunt childhood and consume its innocence.

When she turned nine, Pansy moved into my Sunday morning Valiant class.  She was an animated, contributing member who had been well taught at home and often enlightened the whole class with insights well in advance of her years.  My admiration for her grew into the mutual life-long affectionate friendship that we continue to enjoy now she is in her twenties, married and the mother of several children.

Eventually, our congregation was divided and Pansy became a member of a congregation several miles away.  This meant that we saw much less of each other.  A few months passed and I had a Valiant reunion party at my home, and invited present and past members of the class to attend. 

I did not recognise Pansy as she walked smiling through the door.  Those few months had begun her transformation into womanhood, and her short, straight hair had metamorphosed into masses of gorgeous curls.  

After a year, she had almost completed the change, and become a beautiful young woman.  Those she meets note only her outstanding beauty until they witness the workings of her warm and giving personality.  She does not selfishly hold on to the happiness in her life, but shares it willingly in service with all she meets.  Her grandfather and I still argue as to which of us love her most.

I may be wrong, but in my heart of hearts, I believe that the changes that preceded Pansy’s blossoming were initiated by constant affirmation of her beauty, and the regular uncondescending attention paid to her.

I have been privileged to witness the formula work with other boys and girls and, although I know it works, I always marvel at the miracle as the plain and shy become the beautiful and self-confidant.

The work of Uncle Remus is never finished.  Like Father Christmas, he also needs an army of helpers spread around the world, everywhere where there are children so that none is missed.  Inside every sad ugly duckling is a smiling swan waiting to be coaxed out with gentleness, sympathy, and love. 

We have to teach them that it is safe to emerge as themselves.  Nothing can bring about this change except the pure love of Christ, because pure love alone has the power to transform lives.  If you doubt what I say, just take a look at Pansy!

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* Pansy is not her real name.