When I Grow Up

There is something magical about . . .

Hmmmm. I typed that sentence about 5 hours ago. I have no idea where I was going with it. I was probably enjoying my first cup of coffee of the day, looking out at the (very rare) soft rain falling on the five different kinds of basil and seven different kinds of tomatoes we planted in the garden yesterday.

Was I thinking about those things? Or was I predicting the other magic that would happen today? Such as arguing with my almost-five-year-old about why it's not, actually, my fault that he hurt himself walking head-first on his hands down the stairs. Or looking at my very, very, very (VERY) independent 18-month-old's lip again to see if she bit through it or just almost through it when she fell off a bench yesterday. Or glancing in the mirror and realizing that I look EXACTLY like I did about three minutes after I got up this morning.

I recall, at some point earlier in the day, being rather thankful that I can still access complete episodes of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood online at PBSkids.org. I've decided that if I can strive to be that calm every day--in spite of myself--I will have been successful that day. I had a roommate in college who worked on the actual set, with Fred Rogers himself, when those were taped. She said that his calming effect made it one of the best places she has ever worked. She said that when he spoke, everyone listened, because when he listened, he listened completely.

How often do I do that? Listen completely. Even to myself.

Perhaps the magic is in little kids, who do everything completely. If they are playing, they are playing completely. If they are telling a story about the dragon that visited the moths in the window last night and THAT's why I wet the bed because I couldn't get up to go pee, they are telling it completely. When they are ignoring their parents, they are ignoring us COMPLETELY.

Maybe that's why Jesus spoke so highly of children in general. Kids have this pure perception of God, and of who God is, that is so unaffected by reality and -ology. They have no need to explain to us adults. They know we are ignorant--completely--about such obvious and basic things as to whom our souls really belong.

I've started teaching the pre-school Sunday School class. "Teaching", in my case, being a completely loose term. If you feel strongly about your kids learning the language of church, don't bring them to me. I have nothing to teach these kids, really. Sometimes I go through an entire class without using church-speak (those empty words we use to compartmentalize the language our souls know implicitly). They are verbal enough to tell me in unadulterated language how it is, but are still connected. They haven't been smeared by the grown-up versions of reality.

I keep thinking that when I grow up I'll have it together. I'll know more, be more efficient, more effective, more intelligent. But the honest truth is that when I grow up, I want to be three again. Completely.