Lord, teach me. . . .

  The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge, but imagination. –Albert Einstein One of the things I love most about children is their ability to see things that aren’t really there. Things that come purely from their wild, busy little minds. Things that, as we grow older, we might no longer see or hear or experience. Chris Van Allsburg wrote a wonderful book, The Polar Express . It’s the story of a young boy who is invited to go along on a Christmas Eve adventure. As we ride with him aboard the Polar Express, we are reminded of the wonders of childhood, and the joy of sharing a very special secret. At the end of the book, the boy and his sister receive a gift from the Visitor from the North: a silver bell, whose tinkling jingle is nothing short of divine. Imagine their surprise when they show the bell to their parents—and they hear nothing! They have lost their ears that hear. They have grown up. Throughout Scripture, we find messages that remind us to have eyes to see

  Of all the [churches] in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine. –Humphrey Bogart (adapted)   He was 66 years old, clean cut and polite. Introduced himself and told us he was from a faraway place, but was on his way home. He had been hitchhiking, but finding rides was tough. He needed sleep . Could we help him out with a motel room for a night? Several Googles and phone calls later, we got him set up, handed him a mask and got ready to load him into my back seat for the short drive to the Holiday Inn.  Then he started talking.  Well, if you ask me . . . all this stuff is just a hoax. There haven’t really been that many deaths. And it’s not really that bad if you do catch it. And masks don’t really do any good, anyway! I responded that I’ve walked alongside too many people who’ve had it or lost someone they loved deeply, and reminded him to put on that mask before he got into my car. Those were three long miles to drive. But at about Mile Two, we found co

  The years teach much which the days never know. –Ralph Waldo Emerson   Recently we watched that magnificent movie, Gone with the Wind . Between the beautiful panorama shots, the over-the-top costuming and all-star cast, it truly is unforgettable. A classic. One line from that movie has kept inserting itself in my mind of late, as we all wander our way through this season of pandemic. It’s that line delivered by Butterfly McQueen, aka Prissy, in a panicked, high-pitched squeak of a voice: I don’t know nothin’ about birthin’ no babies, Miss Scarlett! Remember? Remember the chaos? Everyone thinking someone else needed to take charge? Remember how, in the end, Miss Melanie and the baby were all right, despite everyone’s inexperience.  Kind of reminds me of this pandemic we are in. Not a one of us has ever been through anything even remotely similar to this. Ever. We make mistakes. We yell, we cry—we make excuses for our actions. Sometimes we lash out in anger (or fear).

  I think, at a child’s birth, if a mother could ask a fairy godmother to endow it with the most useful gift, that gift should be curiosity. –Eleanor Roosevelt When our first child was born and the nurse placed him in my arms, we simply stared at one another.   His was a gaze of curiosity, of wonder and perhaps a bit of fear, as well. Everything must have seemed bright and new and unusual—but there were these voices he already knew, so it would be all right.   Meanwhile, we counted fingers and toes, and looked with absolute astonishment and joy—and a wee bit of trepidation, as well—at this new life we had created together. Perfect in every single way.   As he grew, he became more independent. Some days, he decided he didn’t need us at all. Some days, he came running towards us, arms outstretched; other days, we wouldn’t hear from him at all.   But we continue to love him. And he knows that. We have never left that up for question, even on anyone’s worst day.