While we were in the Hill Country, I saw this young man and his sister engaging in an ancient Texas Hill Country ritual, skipping rocks! They were both searching for the flattest stone they could find, testing to see that it fit just right between the forefinger and thumb, getting as low as they could before throwing it as straight and flat as they could. They held that position as they watched it either skip or go kerplunk. Then, success or not, they would start the process all over again. What you do not see in the picture are a loving set of grandparents, sitting on a bench watching, encouraging, coaching, and celebrating with these two young people. They were all, grandchild and grandparent alike, opening the gift of childhood and celebrating every moment of it.
Childhood is a time when the mystery of life surrounds us. It calls to us from the stones and rivers. It oozes out of the mudpuddles along the river bank. It pours into our soul when a grandparent’s hand holds ours as we grasp a flat stone for the first time. It invites us to look past our “kerplunks” in life as we go in search of another stone. It cheers us on as we do try, once more, to create that mysterious and elusive, plink-plink-plink as the rock skips across the water before finally slipping into the river. It fills our soul as our Grandparents clap after we successfully master the mystery, knowing that we will try again, and again, and again.
That same childhood mystery echoed in the hearts of the grandparents as they watched each stone drop into the water. There were memories of other rivers, other stones, and moments five or six decades before when they felt the mystery calling out to them from a river and stones. That childhood gift continued to give them joy even though they were long past childhood itself.
The mystery of childhood lingers on in the soul long after childhood, itself, becomes a distant memory. It lingers at the edges of our life reminding us that there is something more than making a living. It whispers of things that childhood leaves behind and invites us to lay aside the sophisticated world of cynicism and worldly wisdom. Childhood mysteries live just beneath the surface of the “grown-up” experience and break through, on occasion, surprising us and our closest companions. Whenever delight, laughter-colored fear, sheer joy, or deep wonder invade our adult days, a moment of childhood mystery has just broken through.
Regardless of our age, childhood mystery looks up at us with the eyes of a frog through the duckweed. It surrounds us with a mythical place and time as we read a new book. It causes our fingers to tingle as we reach out to hold the hand of newborn. It taps us on the shoulder when we have walked too far into our fears. Childhood mystery causes our minds to awaken when the light of a new day breaks upon our lives. The gift of childhood mystery walks with us each and every day we breathe the air as a soul who is seeking wonder. It helps us to learn what to do with mystery, the giver of life.
Forgetting
When we reach “a certain age” we are expected to put away the things of childhood and embrace the responsibilities and perks of being an adult. We have no time for play or imagination. We are told that life is serious business. Wonder is okay as long as it does not interfere with logic and reason. We are told to focus on the long-term and not allow the moment to distract us from our goals. We are convinced that tomorrow is more important than today; that what we can see is more reliable that the hidden; and that persistence is better than play. In short, we are taught to forget about the things of childhood so that we can grow up into responsible, reasonable, contributing members of society. And far too many of us learn the lesson far too well. We forget all about our childhood companion, mystery.
Fortunately, mystery will not be ignored. We all have had moments when it bubbled up through the thick muck of our “grown-up” day. A co-worker spills his coffee on the boss and we are unable to suppress a smile. After a long day at work, we walk in the door and our toddler holds up a toy phone and says, “It’s for you!” and we take the phone and have a conversation with whoever it is. It shines its radiance on us at the crack of dawn when we far fighting our way through morning rush hour. We take a quick peek and feel a flicker of joy comes to life. These moments remind us that even though we have put away the things of childhood, childhood has not put us away.
In spite of our earnest efforts to tame and control mystery and wonder, it will not go away. It is too deeply woven into the DNA of life. It realizes that it is the air and food that the soul needs to survive being grown-up. Mystery is the song that keeps the heart beating. It offers the unanswered questions that keep the mind active and searching. Mystery recognizes that it is essential for life to flourish on the edge of a vast sea where the constant waves of responsibilities and “to do” lists threaten to wash us away. Being awake to the mystery offer us a reason to keep on going. It offers us the possibility of something new in a vast land of sameness.
The Gifts of Childhood Mystery
In childhood we find that the world is a place filled with all kinds of things we do not understand. We to our best to sort these things out. We use our imagination to try and understand. We begin to imagine why clouds float in the sky and rain falls to the ground. We imagine why birds can fly but we can’t no matter how hard we flap our arms. We spend endless hours marveling at the many things we do not understand and use our imagination to sort out an understanding or meaning about them. We adults call this foolishness and daydreaming, but children know differently.
In childhood we take the time to play. We play at driving. We play at talking on the phone. We play with dolls and action figures. To play with our friends. We swing on swings, crawl through tunnels, skate across the ice, and kick/bounce/toss/run with a ball that is round or oval with our team mates. We spend hours playing a video game and board games with family and friends. We discover the things we enjoy and the how to get along with people. We explore our talents and discover that which brings us joy. We play the same notes on the piano over and over again until we get it right. Children call it play. We adults call it practice but children know better.
In childhood we go in search of a place where wonder fills our lives. We listen to our parents read the same story, over and over again, because we like being in that place with them. We learn to read on our own so that we can explore other places and times while encountering other people, both friend and foe. We wander off the path just to see what’s behind the bushes. We climb up in the branches of the tallest trees to see what’s over the horizon. Children call this exploring and curiosity. We adults we call it getting an education, but children know that it is really play.
Children wake up every morning to a day filled with adventure and mystery. They are ready to be enchanted and surprised by the events of the day. Their calendar has very little on it because they live in the “right now” and have no time for tomorrow, much less next year. Every moment is lived in anticipation because something new may just happen. They move from moment to moment with their lives on full swivel, trying desperately to take everything in. They fear missing a single moment. Children call this living. We adults call it a lack of attention and focus. But the children see it for what it really is.
The children understand and celebrate the unknown as an adventure. But we begin to lose sight of it as adults begin to teach us about the “real world.” There does come a time when we need to take on the responsibilities of a “grown-up”, but does this mean we must lay aside the gifts of childhood? Does being a grown-up mean we have to give up childhood? Is life not big enough for both? We adults pretend to know all about what we need to know and see the rest as inconsequential. Our lives would be far more complete if we could focus on knowing when we need to “adult” and when we need to “child.”
Thank You!
That afternoon on the banks of Frio River reminded me that there is something more to living than being an adult. Watching those children tossing rocks in the river stirred the gift to life in my grown-up soul. They helped me reclaim imagination from our contrived adult meanings. They encouraged me to play rather than practice. It awakened a deep curiosity and wonder. They invited me to lay aside my calendar and enjoy that moment by the river. That childhood companion showed up and I am deeply grateful that it has not abandoned me. Thank you for the gift! I will try and unwrap it a little more each day.
Peace,
Bob