And, in that moment, I know – their inner “child” has surfaced, peeking out for just a moment. New Life wells from within! And, they dream again . . .
|My son, Andrew.|
|My daughter, Bethany.|
Here now, was my daughter, cooking gourmet meals and helping in all and every way to make our home ready for guests. Here now, I was welcoming my baby boy as a guest in my home – for he keeps a home of his own, these days.
|Little Miss Kathy – April 1962|
And, then – there are my own memories of Easter mornings – longer ago. The child in me hugs each memory close to heart – connecting the dots to my children – and now, my grand-child. I drink deeply of these few days of respite before we all return to our modern working lives, and Memory Lane rolls up like the little streets and town play-rugs my son raced his hot wheels on so long – and yet – not so very, long ago.
Being all grown up now, I saw my son doing for his daughter, what I used to do for him. Then, when I picked him up a music DVD of a band he really admired, and watched him watch it, I saw the same joy, as in his boyhood, discovering his music – with a gleam in his eyes. Grown-up responsibilites took a break – and “child” delighted – was renewed – in time for the next bottle and diaper change.
|Kenzie & Nana|
There is nothing like the untouched innocence of a child to blow fresh breezes of thought and reflection through one’s mind and heart, after days of world weariness, draining the reservoir of reverie . . . a miracle in a small package.
To this end, I kept my camera clicking, capturing Kenzie’s wide eyes of wonder – may I never lose my own; her unstrained expression – may my laugh lines prosper; her dependence on her father – may I ever rest in the care my Heavenly Father has for me.
Tomorrow begins three weeks of deadlines – a trilogy of sorts. Just take a look at my sidebar to see what lies before me between now and May 14. It will be like playing that old game “Perfection” – where you turn the timer on and have to get all sorts of different shapes in the correct hole while the clock is ticking, before the board explodes if all pieces are not in place when the “ding” is “donged”.
Ducks in a row – lots of them. And, after this delightful week with THE CHILD – renewed . . . I shall let “the child lead them” . . .