Dear child of mine,
Many things I teach to you, sweet one. I’ve walked a few more miles, and lived a few more years. But in this, I am your student.
In this, I find you wise beyond your years, and mature beyond measure.
In this, I find you exquisite. I can only hope not to move you backwards. I can only hope not to make you more like me, but me like you.
It’s your eyes that captivate me, precious child. It’s the way your eyes can see things that I have long forgotten to notice.
It’s the way your eyes can take in everything that truly matters and nothing all at once.
You care not about the traffic, but you revel in the size of the wheels on the truck beside us. You care not about the clock, but the flicker of the rock along the path to our car never fails to catch your eye.
You fear not if we’ve wondered off the trail, but you delight in the feel of a toad in your hands. You love the bumps of his back, and the rise of his throat. You delight in the quick of his legs and when he surprises you with a mighty leap, you treasure the hunt to find him again.
What I call weeds, your eyes call wild bouquet. What I call delays, your eyes call divine appointments with God’s gifts of the day.
Though I’m older now, small one, I want to grow eyes like yours, as I age.
Sweet child of mine, will you teach me to have eyes of wonder?
Will you teach me to see the world as one giant gift of glorious exploration?
Will you teach me to encounter God the Creator in the curve of a butterfly wing, and the wiggle of a worm?
Will you teach me to slow my busied mind, and breathe in the scent of fresh cut grass on a hill? To roll down it with abandon to the grass stains?
Will you teach me to put aside the worries of the day, to tip my chin and feel the warm of the sun on my face?
Teach me to linger, to giggle endlessly about the way your baby brother’s diaper bobs back and forth when he walks.
Teach me again about the bliss of spinning with arms spread wide…the exhilaration of stumbling to the floor to watch the room swirl.
Teach me to marvel at the engineering of trucks and excavators and cranes in the construction site. Just to watch the levers and gears and dirt frolic and dance.
Teach me to dwell with the trickle of creek and the echo of crickets.
Teach me to see the miracle of faces. Teach me to see with endless possibility, and courageous hope. Teach me to know God by having eyes to see his beauty in every little corner of creation.
Dear child of mine, when I grow up, I want to have eyes just like yours.
Never lose your wonder.