A Second Chance

"What was wonderful about childhood is that anything in it was a wonder. It was not merely a world full of miracles; it was a miraculous world." --GK Chesterton


When I was younger, life seemed to have a mysteriously, enchanting element to it. Even the most mundane of activities were seen as adventures because being so young made every activity feel fairly new. The simplest things like washing the car and mixing the cookie dough batter and then licking the mixing spoons were enough to make the whole day seem quite accomplished. I remember thinking riding in the back of mom's station wagon to Burlington Coat factory was such a long, fun drive (and now reality has set in and it was about a whopping 15 minute drive and riding backwards makes me want to barf and Burlington Coat Factory is where people go if they want their car stolen from the parking lot). Nevertheless, these were the kinds of things that deserved my excitement, these were the things that made life so pleasantly perfect.

I don't remember when those feelings of excitement and adventure in the ordinary started to wane, but eventually they did. The world stopped being so fun and innocent all the time when I started to notice it could also be boring or daunting.

And then I had a little boy and all of a sudden, the magic started to emerge again. I now see the flicker of adventure and excitement in his eyes over things like tackling dad or using the scissors to cut up a magazine or blowing dandelions in the backyard. A boring day to me is a brand new day to him with something relatively exciting and new, considering he's only been alive for about 3 years. I forget the simplest things are sheer delight to him. There is a weightlessness and freedom he possesses from not having to worry about anything right now--but to just explore and enjoy. To be whimsy and silly and present.

Last week, Jace spent the day with my mom and as he and me were cuddling at bedtime, the sweet scent of her perfume lingered in his hair and it overwhelmed me. In that moment, I was simultaneously a mom to Jace and a little girl again. I remembered a little girl who found all her comfort and security in the lap of her mom. I felt that enchanting innocence in those sweet, silent moments--the magic of being both a kid who found comfort and a mom who gives it.

It's so easy to get wrapped up in the stories on the news or in our jobs or finances or relationships or all the millions of things that take root in our minds and grow into a wilderness of worry. It's easy to see cloudy, murky days, or just boring, mundane ones. If we're not careful, we can miss those moments that steal the breath from our lungs--the ones that are like fresh, warm blankets draping over us, inviting us to take comfort and delight in the small things.

Tonight,

I'm grateful for the perspective from my boy who is marveling at the wonder of it all.

It's because of him I've realized I get a second chance --

to live in awe of this magical world.