So his little four year old legs are pedaling fast, and his yellow helmet leads the way. I’m almost running with the stroller, trying to keep up. When suddenly, my grandson stops pedaling and jumps down from his bike. He’s seen something that interests him, something so ordinary that most would pass by without a second glance. But not him.
He’s mesmerized by a dying flower garden.
Look at this Grandma! He shouts in excitement.
He’s holding a brown stem, with a fat pod at the top. It’s just a dead flower head. Most would think that all its beauty has long since faded. But he knows something different. He knows that inside that pod, a secret is hidden. Something is waiting in there. And no one knows how many seeds it contains. No one knows what color they are.
We stop. Because this is the beauty of being a grandma: we have time.
He collects. Lots.
Back at home, we spill the pods onto the table, where he proceeds to prise open each one, slowly and carefully. He will not miss a single seed. They all go into his bag.
His favorite ones are those that are perfectly black and round, like teeny tiny bouncy balls. And when one accidentally rolls on to the floor, he’s on his little hands and knees, searching for it like it’s missing treasure. He doesn’t stop until he finds it.
And while the world bombards our children with screens, and sounds; with toys that light up, and buzz and flash in their efforts to entertain, I get to share my days with one who is delighted by simple seeds, and mushrooms, by the sound of cicadas in the trees, and all that is good in God’s wonderful world.
And I’m reminded of a dark summer’s night, long ago, when the evening sky was pierced with a zillion twinkling lights, and how that same little boy took my hand in his and said, in his wonderful three year-old way:
Grandma, look at the stars. Aren’t they marvelous?
And these days, these moments, these precious times, they are marvelous to me.
How are you fostering a sense of wonder in your children, your grandchildren, or your children’s ministry?