I watched a little boy fog up a window with his breath the other day. He seemed transfixed: I breathe in, the fog goes away. I breathe out, there it is again. His little nose and chubby cheeks were pressed so close to the glass that he barely seemed to remember the Christmas display he'd been gazing at in the first place. And I thought to myself: When do we lose that? When do we forget to be in awe of little things? My days are filled with tiny miracles -- the garage that keeps my car dry, the huge coat that keeps me warm in the snow, the assurance of a warm meal for dinner, my husband reaching out to hold my hand -- but too often, I'm wrapped up in the crashing stock market and the plummeting economy. I'm worried about health. I'm wondering what others think of me. What was it like to forget to worry? To forget to notice surroundings? To sit in rapt attention at the miracle of breath itself?
As adults, we strain and strive for power, success, control. It's the currency of our society. Yet children, the most powerless among us, are also the most innocently joyful. The most filled with simple wonder. I wonder what that says about our priorities?
And a little child shall lead them.
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