What Games We Play

The game, it started same as always. Brown-haired toddler urged me on, to come, to "look and see." I followed his elfin body into bedroom. He sat on his knees, pat carpeted floor with dimpled hand, and beckoned, "down here, Grandma, down here." I knelt beside this tiny boy, pointed my gaze out the door, readied myself for the hunt. "I see a TREE!" He began, brown eyes ablaze, and I followed the direction of his pointer finger, cherry tree, the closest one in our view. "And I see leaves dancing in the breeze," I said, rewarded with a grinning face, cookie crumbs adorning corners of his mouth.  And I see your innocence. Unhindered by blond-haired boy who slid between sheer curtains like he was practicing a curtain call for America Idol, we continued on. "I see an AIRPLANE!" Flying high in baby blue October sky, airplane with its smoky trail whisked above and we craned our necks, edging around brother to watch last exhaust marks penning the sky. My achy joints forced me to switch positions, and I lay on my back, looking out glass, watching world upside down in this room with a view.  Immediately, toddler boy joined me. "I'm UPSIDE DOWN!" He rejoiced, lifting his chin toward white ceiling, tilting head back far as possible, scanning yard outside. "I see LEAVES!"  Soon brother lay down too, joined us in our upside-down-world play. "I see the sun," I announced, showing them a patch of hazy light poking through tree branches. "I see it TOO," they cried out in unison. Maybe we three enjoyed this new  world, a fresh perspective, unedited, this freedom to turn it all upside down. When government shuts down, another photo of a Kardashian stares back at you on MSN page, and isn't it better to steal a moment, turn it all off, flip yourself around and watch patches of light glimmering through tree branches? In the words of Leon Henri Marie Bloy, "Joy is the most infallible sign of the presence of God." I see pure joy when your twin eyes discover novel territory. And you said come here, sit, and I did , and we played our game, and the light, it streamed through glass, and the green leaves they wiggled and danced all free, all beauty. Such grace. I looked out the smudged glass, gaze scanning back yard with its rubber balls and toy cars. Breathing in His grace I stood and tripped over stuffed raccoon. Breathing out His praise.

"I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."

And the light, it stretched past cherry tree, gloving us three, all radiant in its permission, its freedom, its never-ending Grace.