Yesterday my son and I went to the seawall. And how he made me smile, not the superficial smile of business, but the deep soul-satisfying one, as he played on the rocks and ran on the wall. I love to engage his childish things like make-believe, curiosity, imagination and play. Nothing planned, nothing really special, just spontaneous play -- without rules and reasons, just for the fun of it. The thought came to me that happiness isn't something you have to strive and struggle for. It's simply an awareness of the beauty of a child at play. I said to myself: Remember this moment...put it away carefully (the moment was special, moments like these are what lovely memories are made of.). Someday I would need such memories to draw strength and comfort from. Real life...real living...and then I read this poem...
Lord,
kids are so neat
sometimes they're bundles of energy
gift-wrapped in hand-me-downs.
Other times they're
pajamaed packages of sleepy sweetness
Always they're a miracle.
I love the way they chase butterflies
and the attention they give to mud puddles
and raindrops on a window
I envy their freedom
from clocks, calendars and cell-phones
their immunity to pressure.
O, they have their moments
skinned knees and nap time
but they recover quickly
They don't nurse their disappointments
or make a career out of contrition.
Lord
kids are so neat
Let me be converted
and become as a little child.
Let me know again
the sheer joy of being alive
and the pure pleasure
of living one day at a time
fully savouring each solitary moment.
Free me from past disappointments
and the hurts
I have so carefully kept.
Restore unto me
a childlike anticipation for life.
A sense of wonder
which makes each day new
and my life truly abundant.
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