Let's Take A Hike

 

Let’s Take A Hike

     Ever meet a child just where they were?  On their level, at their perception.  To explore the world through their senses as they embarked to tell you their “first” at a stopped moment in time.  The time we would call hesitation or in derogatory ways, an “irritation.”  Have you ever stepped into their car as a rider and let them drive into what they thought was important?
     Yes, so much here is bent on getting the show on the road.  What do little ones know about schedules and running errands and getting the bills paid?  Time!  Time!  We preach it to them that the watch has a mouth like some fiery steam locomotive.  We must keep shoveling it the coal, the sooty dirty coal toiled in our sweat and grind, else the great train of justification stop on her rails and God forbid we stop, step off the track, and smell the wild flowers.

     It’s a scary hike in the wilderness, off the rose rocked property.  The smell of creosote and oil leaves us as we scamper down the upheavaled  embankment.  At the bottom, we pause.  The train resting on its rails and firing out a threatening sigh of disbanded belief concerning our sudden choice of courage.  In other words, in the wilderness of schedule slip lay the onslaught arrows hidden in bushes beware.  Where is the child?  They taketh thee by the hand.

     Away from the usual, where the pullers in seconds have dictated on, we see anew about their small hand which grasps.  They will not tug if their voice be quiet.  A rampage of vehemous the whining one surely.  But that one only jumps the track to their own accord.

     This mannered one, in an uniqued occurrence, begs me to bend down to their vantage.  “Where about my child?  What do you see?”  And there she signals by the draw of a finger… a purple and white gem so close and tethered to the ground of green lush.  Upon picking she says,

“Behind your ear Grandpa.  That’s where the pretty ones are kept.”

 “So they are child, so they are.”

     I hear the whistle disrupt the air in it’s discordant shriek.  My mind lapses to the freight weighing heavy on the tracks.  In my goal of love this day, I gently nudge the one back up the embankment with encouraging words.  Why should I cross about a departure so gleaming?  She has shown me a riches not covered in hot displeasure.

     Little one, thank you.  My Grandpa ear hast learned.  To pause abit, to bend abit, and to guarantee you that dignity of discovery you rightly deserve as a child, a child of the Great One.