Through The Eyes Of A Child

The days approaching Christmas, they speed wild and crazy, shopping lists and red curling ribbon, parties and long lines. A hurried and frenzied world that clicks on-line like a forever tap dance, and stealing a slice of peace is risky business, there is so much more to do. And when my father-in-law took a fall and needed hip surgery I wondered at the timing, at the decisions and choices crowding together. Not his hip! What are the options?Is surgery safe for a ninety-three year old with dementia? After consulting with the specialist we opted for surgery which set his operation exactly when we had a train ride to catch...

on The Polar Express.
 

Where wistful watching captured a moment and hopeful expectation skipped down the aisle, clapping happily, a song, a refrain, Hot, Hot, Hot! I sang too, I clapped and my mind hummed down the tracks, I need to be somewhere else, in a waiting room not tapping my feet here in all this glee.



Cheers to hot cocoa, a child's delight, coating the throat with liquid gold. I took a few sips and thought about the time. Is he safe? Will he be OK? Will he walk by himself again?

He came and sat among us, this man with the whorly white beard. He chatted and spread hope, giving life to child's biggest wish. An aged Superman. A silver bell from the harness of a reindeer. And I am ushered back into the moment, where childlike faith is walking on water, trusting is simple yes. The sound of a bell is real. Santa Claus is everywhere at once and that is OK. I lost track of time, singing "Feliz Navidad" like I knew all the words with young boy studying my lips, carefully mimicking. Joy ricochets off steel walls. Worry melted from my shoulders, pooling on the vibrating floor, a puddle of I-will-trust-this-here-now.

 

 

As we departed the train and made our way to the car, with all those pajama-clad children whose faces still lit bright, I knew this was the right choice for us that day. A gift, a respite, a slice of peace in the midst of all the busyness of the season. Maybe we never made the choice, maybe the train had waited for us all along, that a surgeon would check his schedule, and an operating room opened up at precisely boarding time. Perhaps God knows that adults are really grown children, in need of play and whimsy, and timing is irrelevant and trusting is the key.

Later in the week I watched my father-in-law practice walking down the hallway, hands gripping a walker, caregiver holding him by a striped belt, his gait unsteady, wobbly. Christmas music streamed from the dining room. I thought of a silver bell not all can hear, a Santa who travels the world in one night, a babe in a manger who came to save the world. I shook my head in awestruck wonder.

The answer so simple, so crazily divine, only with eyes of a little child one can truly see, the Gift in all His blazing glory. He came that day so long ago, for all of you and me.