His three-piece suit and Florsheim wingtips never stopped my 45-year-old father from crawling through play tunnels with toddlers in the church nursery. His position as a school principal never made him too sophisticated to stack blocks on his head and have them intentionally fall to the ground to the laughter of young children.
I learned everything about what it takes to entertain young children from watching him and my mother play with the children at church. Apparently, I learned a lot since kids come to my house and never want to leave. I have had kids meet me and an hour later refuse to let go of my hand. Perhaps it is due to the toys I have with me, but perhaps it is my willingness to be real—and silly.
I worked with children at church for several decades, as a children’s worker, children’s worship leader, and children’s pastor at several churches.
My tailgate kids likewise climbed and crawled all over me, and between the pictures they drew for me or “Wild Bronco” rides on my lap, my own boys recognized that playing with them was the highlight of my year.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
There is something about children that draws me to them.
Perhaps it is their willingness to love wholeheartedly with arms wide open.
Perhaps it is their honesty—-even when that honesty sometimes hurts.
Perhaps it is their hope and willingness to believe in the best.
Perhaps it is their lack of judgment and their open acceptance.
It might be their fragility, the sense of that tiny little hand wrapped for dear life around your finger.
It might be the trueness of their smile, the giggles that comes straight from their bellies, or
The wide-eyed wonder in their eyes when something appears to be magical.
Yes, I know I was that child at one time, as I know you were as well.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Wouldn’t you in many ways like to time travel back to childhood?
To the simple belief in the mistruths we adults tell to children?
Of the existence of our bearded Santa Claus and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, the hoppity Easter Bunny with his hidden eggs and chocolate, the sneaky Tooth Fairy, and other lies?
Isn’t it true that we are stuck with the same dreams as little children?
We laugh at Santa Claus, but we want to believe that someone or some circumstance will listen to our deepest desires and bring us what we want. That someone or something will fulfill our dreams.
We would love to crawl up into a lap, be hugged, and be guaranteed that everything our heart desires will be ours.
We look for this bearded desire-giver in our spouses, our friends, our jobs, our children, and our God. We hope and pray that if we find the right person and ask in the right way or if we behave and act like good little boys and girls, our deepest desires can be met.
However, we get disappointed when this person or this circumstance does not solve all our problems.
Isn’t it true that we can laugh at the Easter Bunny but still long for someone who would spend time and energy decorating and working to surprise us with items that bring us joy?
It might be true that chocolate still might work for many of us as adults.
However, if we think of other surprises, don’t they bring us joy?
Don’t handwritten cards, thoughtful presents, texts of appreciation, or the happy surprises of life still bring that sense of excitement?
We see the envelope in the mailbox with our names on it, we tear at the patterned giftwrap, or we hear the “ding” of our text messages—-and we are little children again, ready to run for the surprise.
And what adult believes in a winged fairy who comes and gets teeth with decayed roots and exchanges them for money? (I used to get $1.00 a tooth, but I know inflation has hit!)
Yet, our childlike heart still prays and hopes that there is some possibility of recycling the losses of life—-the loss of death, the loss of a job, the loss of familial relationships, the loss of financial stability—-into something positive with no effort from us.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
What other mistruths were we told as children?
It will be OK.
Mommy will never leave you.
Let me kiss it and it won’t hurt any more.
Daddy’s got you and he’ll never let you go.
No one can ever hurt you.
Wouldn’t you like someone to say all of these words to you right now?—--
And mean it?
And you believe it?
To believe that your loved ones will never leave you, that it will all be OK, and that no one will ever hurt you again?
Wouldn’t EACH of you want to hear those words right now, this minute, this month, this year?
Even those of you in suits and ties with wingtip shoes.
Even those of you looking at wrinkles in the mirror.
Even the single moms with babes hanging off of her all day long and crying for more.
Even those of us who have almost given up?
The sweet, not-so-honest words of comfort and
The figures of childhood joy and mystery—Santa, the Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy—
All speak of the deepest desires of all of us–
Our desires to be seen, heard, cared for, and sacrificed for,
Our desires to be surrounded by those we love,
Our desires to be looked out for and guarded,
And our desires to have everything make sense.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Perhaps I am drawn to children because they represent a chance for me to lose some of my adult maturity and full-time seriousness/responsibility,
Perhaps their simple joy rubs off on me when they are near,
Maybe their innocent, belly-filled giggles and wide-open love remind me of what life is all about,
Maybe it is a chance for me to hope and pray that I can believe again in all the things I used to believe about life, about people, and about God.
Regardless of the reason,
I believe in the magic of children,
In their power to heal the broken-hearted,
In their ability to revive hope and joy.
Spoiler Alert:
If any of you adults brings a child around me, plan to be ignored.
Plan for the Fisher-Price buildings to come out all over the floor of my clean living room,
For the game of riding “Wild Bronco” on my lap,
For homemade peanut butter chocolate chip Rice Krispies treats,
And for me to be seen crawling on my knees in a play tunnel,
Laughing and giggling and being silly.
Final Thought:
Who knows?
Maybe I don’t need children around me 24/7 to adopt some of these ideas in my oh-so-serious life.
I may not pull out the Fisher-Price buildings, but what seems silly and a waste of time?
Maybe I need to spend time putting aside adult responsibility and just doing something silly and fun.
Maybe I need to make a sinful edible treat—-just for me—and eat it without worry of who might see the smeared chocolate around my mouth OR worry of my tightening pants,
Maybe I need to pull out my kite and go running through a field,
Maybe I need to gather some friends more often and laugh and giggle and, yes, even be silly.
There is still plenty of summer left.
That maybe may become a reality.
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