There’s something so beautiful about a child’s heart and mind untouched by the world’s ugliness, such innocence that has the power to render me in awe, quiet, without words and full of such humility and thankfulness to be able to experience the world her way, to see it and all of its creations as flawless.
Thanks for joining me today for Coffee Hour with Chicklit Power and Wednesday’s Word with Trench Classes United.
Last week we were given a gift: a day at the beach with my stepson, daughter-in-love and their three children, our grandchildren: Bryden, who is 8; Kinsley, who is 3, and Presley, who is 9 months. This is in and of itself a miracle, the beginning crossings of a bridge of reconciliation long prayed for, a story for another book.
Watching little Kinsley, it was obvious this was her very first trip to the beach, and I immediately was drawn into her world, captured by her sweetness. My joy was immediately stirred up by her silliness and my soul revived by the sanctity of her innocence. Watching her feeling the sand between her toes and on her skin – which she wasn’t a fan of – was adorable, especially when she asked me to get the two specs off of her arm.
I loved watching her stare at big brother while he ran towards the waves and then turned around and ran fast and furiously away from them so as to not get completely soaked. She was mesmerized by it all. How easy it was to enter her world and bend down to build sand castles. We worked together to fill the pail up each time. I practically held my breath as we turned it upside down and each patted it just enough to loosen the pail’s grip on the sand and then we closed our eyes and counted to three while I tried to slowly lift it completely up. I don’t know who was more excited to see a little castle all intact each time, her or me.
When I saw her chase a seagull with such sweet wonder, it took my breath away, literally. She did this a couple of times and each time I just stood there, mesmerized by her innocence. Her brother had been trying to get her down by the water for over an hour…unsuccessfully, but the seagull, unbeknownst to her, captured her attention without her fears as he led her here and there closer to the water…until he took flight and she realized her limitations.
Looking for seashells is one of my very favorite things to do so I decided to take her on a seashell journey. We walked and I taught her how to look for them, which at times required that she use her little shovel to scoop the sand away…keeping it away from her hands of course. Within minutes we were both exclaiming over our discoveries. “Oooh, wookit,” she’d say, with such joy. I’d reply with “oh, My lanta, that’s beautiful.”
“Oh my wanta,” she echoed.
As she filled my hand with these shells, broken and whole, it hit me: little Kinsley didn’t see broken, she just saw the beauty…in the colors, the textures, and she did not treat the broken shells any different than the whole ones. She exclaimed over each one as she placed them in her nana’s hand to hold.
The simplicity of this truth is mind-boggling, especially for those of us who have a hard time seeing ourselves as our Creator does, through the eyes of love. As I sit here writing this blog, another truth flashes bright into any dark crevices of my mind and soul: on this day I had, for the first time ever, experienced with all of my being the joys of innocence found in a child.
Oh, may we learn to see beyond one’s brokenness and view them as Jesus does, with love.