Like a Child

Whenever I happen to be home and visiting my Grandmother, there is one story she continues to tell, without fail. It’s a story about when I was just a little girl and I would swing on the swings with my sister. One day we went to the park and as I was swinging I started belting out a song from Annie: “Tomorrow, Tomorrow I love ya tomorrow”. I repeated that line over and over as I flew high into the trees and I can imagine I had my eyes closed and a big grin on my face; passionate oblivion! My sister however, according to my Grandmother’s rendition, was equally passionate about getting me to stop singing and I’m sure her pale little face was growing redder by the minute at each failed attempt to silence me. Every time my grandmother tells this story I roll my eyes and blush a little as though I’m embarrassed, but secretly I love to hear it.
When I was home for Mother’s day this past weekend, my Grandmother told the story again and I did my little eye roll and blush and tried to shrug it off, but this time I couldn’t and here I am, three days later, still thinking about it. And here’s why: I love that little girl. I love that she was so free and content and relaxed that nothing, not even an over-heated bigger sister, could hamper her joy. I love that it only took a swing and a song and the wind tickling her toes to make her feel alive.
It’s been a tough couple of months for me. Life has kind of been careening back and forth and I feel like I’ve hit some of my lowest lows. I’m a far cry from that bright-eyed girl on the swing professing her love for the coming day; instead I’m cynically cursing it. I suppose most all children are cheerful and enthusiastic about life and then change as they grow up, but I wish it wasn’t so. I long to be that carefree and innocent again, able to let problems and let-downs roll off my back, eager to take chances and embrace life as it comes. I want to shrug off the bitterness and anger and doubt and depression I have worn for too many years; they are ugly and cloud my judgment and weaken my resolve. I think that is why Jesus told his disciples, when they asked who would be the greatest in Heaven, that you must become like a little child: “I’m telling you, once and for all, that unless you return to square one and start over like children, you’re not even going to get a look at the kingdom let alone get in. Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God’s kingdom.” Mat 18:3-4. Jesus knew that we mess things up as adults; that we become jaded and prideful and we lose sight of what really matters in life, but, He also has faith that we can change.
I think we all need more times in life when we remember what it was like to be a child. Whether it’s hearing an old story, playing with a child, swinging on the swings, or even helping Grandma bake cookies, it’s good to be intentional about finding that childlike spirit. I’m hoping that the more often I find that spirit the easier it will become to sustain it and then maybe, it won’t be too hard for me to love this big girl.