A Sense of Wonder

Hello! I know, I know, I haven't blogged in ages. I don't even know if anyone will read this, but I may as well write it, if only for the sheer joy of writing again. For writing is a wonder.

(Here we do what we in the writing field call "a transition.") Speaking of wonder, I was thinking recently about the sense of wonder that small children have when they first discover something. If you've ever hung out with a toddler who is just learning to talk, they want to tell you everything. They enthusiastically point out a small round bouncing object and shout, "BALL!" And we smile and nod and act all proud that they can, not only say the word ball, but connect the it with the object it represents. But really, we aren't all that impressed in the ball. (Or even the child if she is pointing it out for the FORTIETH time that day...) We brush it aside and move on, busy with our important, adult lives.

But what did we just ignore? Surely it isn't important to stop and look at a ball. After all, we've seen thousands of them before in our lives. We will probably see thousands more. And it is this, I think, that has caused us to be desensitized to them.

Because to the small two-year-old, the ball is new. He hasn't seen it before. Or if he has, he hasn't been able to communicate with you about it. He is ECSTATIC to share with you his brand new discovery that the small round bouncy object is a "ball" and to build a bridge between him and you using his new ability to communicate: language. And why not be so excited? It is exciting!

We could be just so excited. Yes, it may be the hundredth time we've seen that particular ball. It may even be the hundredth time the child has pointed out that particular ball. But maybe the child is seeing something in the ball that we, in our assurance that we know what "ball" is, have missed. A sense of wonder. For the small children are still young enough to marvel at the very thing called existence. And all the things we now take for granted. He or she embraces fully the new situation because, to them, everything is new. But everything can also be renewed.

For are not His mercies new every morning?

So maybe next time a small child points out a ball (or flower, or dog, or crayon) to you, you might join in their excitement, share in their sense of wonder and accomplishment in recognizing that yes, that is, in fact, a ball. That it, in fact, is.