There are plenty of things he can do, most of them playing with various toys that litter our every room and hallway. He has a seemingly infinite number of choices of toys he can play with, but he doesn't have to play. If he does choose to do so, he can do so unencumbered by the thought that there is something else he needs to be doing. His every need is met by Rachel and me, so there is no anxiousness for food or clothing or shelter. He can simply play.
Now, there are times when he chooses not to play. There are times when he wants to do something he is not allowed to do. There are times he throws tantrums because he is tired or simply frustrated. But it's never because there is some outside force pressuring him to do things a certain way. It's only when he presses up against the boundaries that he opts to fuss rather than play. It was amazing to me this morning, watching him play. He plays all day, every day. His energy is wholly devoted to play. How freeing that must be.
Can you imagine?
I'm sure that I was the same way at some point, carefree and playful. The weight of the world feels heavy at times, especially since I am one of those individuals who chooses to carry more than my fair share. It's not easy holding the world up. What it must be like to recapture that vision of youth, that sense of freedom, the delight in play.
I think this must be what heaven is like--the freedom to roam and play, to bask in the light of God's love, to rejoice in freedom and let those weights bound away, back to where they belong, in far better hands than mine. For a moment, for a brief moment this morning, I was overwhelmed by the freedom of the child.
As my therapist said, "Let Caleb teach you. He hasn't been messed up yet."
1 comment:
Caleb looks to us as if he is blissfully playing when in reality he is hard at work learning. He is practicing everything he has seen and heard, and it is quite difficult work for him. Cut him a break, Dad. :)
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