One of the benefits of having kids is the frequent reminders of what unadulterated wonder looks like. Kids tend to find amazement in what has become commonplace.. Nothing, it seems, is too small to comment on. Everything is worthy of a declaration; pronouncements over the mundane fill our day.
In the midst of the minute-by-minute play-by-play of each task and every activity, is the simply joy in discovery. The clouds may look like the same clouds as yesterday to you and to me, but to my child they are a dinosaur today. The purple dog statute that we pass regularly may be an inconsequential oddity, but it never fails to generate a response. The garbage truck would probably escape my notice, but it certainly won’t hers.
For many, these moments may become an annoyance. The running commentary can certainly get overwhelming at times. However, as anyone whose kids have grown will tell you, the days may be long but the years are short. Before I know it, she may find little to reason to talk to me. And I try to remind myself of that when even the cloudless sky generates a two-minute discussion.
The other reason that I have found to treasure these soliloquies is because they give me the opportunity to talk with my daughter about the greatness of God in terms that she readily relates to. As she looks in astonishment at the majesty of the sky, I can teach her about the majesty of our King. As she stands in awe at the orchestration of the birds’ migration, we can talk about the divine orchestration of every detail of our world. As she marvels in the beauty of a multicolored sky, I remind her that the God who created that beauty, also created her. Her constant wonderment reminds me of the many reasons we have to give thanks. The soundtrack of our day then becomes an anthem of praise; an off-key and unfocused one to be sure, but still a moment by moment remainder of the One who deserves all praise.
I know as my daughter gets older she won’t have the same sense of wonder that she has now. Soon it will take much more than drops of rain for her to wildly exclaim. Until then though, I hope I use her astute attention to detail to teach her about the God who has made and sustained all that she sees. Maybe then when the sense of wonder fades, she will still see God’s hand in her everyday.
Frequently when we are going out to eat, my husband will ask me if there’s anything I want. Most of the time I tell him that I have no particular preference, and that is truly the case. Until he tells me where he’s thinking of going. More often that I would like to admit, his declaration will demonstrate to me that I do have a preference – and that preference is distinctly different from where he’s heading.