How our Children Inspire Us.

I love walking in the woods. Especially this time of year.  The colors shifting.  Leaves floating down from giant oaks and golden aspens clapping in the cold.  I often have the feeling like I am on my way from the Shire to Rivendell.  

It feels ethereal and sparks creative thoughts.

And I love those first days of snowfall.  How it transforms the landscape so completely. Those morning walks after a good snowstorm might be my favorite. 

All the trees cloaked in white. 

The sun streaming through the breaks in the forest.  I love standing still, watching my breath and feeling the warm sun on my face.

I have a rhythm to my walks in the woods.  As much as it feeds my creative soul, I also like it to fulfill the role of exercise.  

Somehow, I feel I haven’t met the full intention of the walk if at the end, my heart isn’t working harder and my legs don’t feel tired.

A favorite Saturday activity for our family is to head out for a hike.  To enjoy trails that I don’t have time to walk during the week.  But my boys, especially my younger two, have a completely different goal on these family excursions.

They want to explore.  Dragging them through a hike at my pace is torture to them.  They complain, and swear they never want to go again.

But If I slow to their pace, they come alive. 

I can see it in their eyes and in the way they move.  In how they begin to notice details that I overlook. 

I have felt this need to teach them that this is how we exercise.  But instead they teach me, this is how we slow down.  This is how to admire; this is how to grow wonder.

It humbles me.

I am humbled by how much I need to learn.  Or relearn.  How much my pace of living and my need for efficiency drives the slow growing wonder right out of me.

And I have this deep conviction that I never want to rush this wonder out of them.  It is a gift.  To their own souls, and to the world around them. I want to nurture it.  Giving it space to grow.

I want to give these little wonder flames kindling and oxygen.

And often all that is necessary is a little extra time.  And patience, a lot of patience.

I have found that the best way to help me slow down on these hikes is to bring my camera along.  It puts me in the beauty hunting mood.  It helps me to stop often, to notice details and to point them out.  It gets me excited.  And it turns out that my excitement is the kindling they need.  It is permission and encouragement for them to see, find, listen and point out as well.

Often, I come away with some great painting inspiration too.  Definitely a win, win.

Children have a natural sense of wonder.  They are curious and wear us out with their questions.  They spin tales, play make believe and find treasure in the rocks beneath our feet. 

Everything is new to them.  That is why experiencing the world with children is so much fun.  Seeing my boy’s reactions, the first time they experienced snow falling or the smell of spring flowers, have been some of my favorite moments in life.  They use their senses to explore the world around them.  They are more aware and present than we are.

We are dulled to wonder.  The world around us becomes ordinary by the shear repetition of our days.

“We are perishing for lack of wonder, not for lack of wonders.”

― G.K. Chesterton

This summer we were out hiking when my two youngest boys noticed a long sturdy limb that was leaning over the path.  They jumped up to see if they could grab hold of it.  Once they did, they hung there and swung back and forth like little monkeys.  In doing so, they realized it had a lot of bounce to it. 

They jumped up again and when their feet hit the ground, they launched themselves higher. The limb sprung up and down. They kept going, to see how high they spring up. The two of them clung to the limb and bounced and giggled and had so much fun. This captured them for the longest time. It had become a playground and half the joy was that they had discovered it!

Once you see how amazed they are at all the details of this world, once you experience the delight with them, it will fill you with delight too. 

And you will find your wonder kindled as the ordinary becomes extraordinary once again.

When you walk with a child, show them some things you love.  Break off some pine needles to smell together. Taste the wild raspberries or the ramps with them. Point out the eagles nest up above and the wildflowers in bloom this week.  They will then invite you to delight in details with them as well.  To touch the soft moss and look at the differences between the rocks.

They believe that this world is an incredible place.

And they are looking for you to affirm this truth. 

Notice how things change day to day, month to month.  The forest is alive and always changing with the seasons. 

I recently reread “The Secret Garden” by Frances Hodgson Burnett.   I love this classic story.  Especially because it is from the perspective of the children.  Reading this book is a great way to experience wonder through the the eyes of a child.  I thought including an excerpt of this story would be a nice way to end this post.

“On that first morning when the sky was blue again Mary wakened very early. The sun was pouring in slanting rays through the blinds and there was something so joyous in the sight of it that she jumped out of bed and ran to the window. She drew up the blinds and opened the window itself and a great waft of fresh, scented air blew in upon her. The moor was blue and the whole world looked as if something Magic had happened to it. There were tender little fluting sounds here and there and everywhere, as if scores of birds were beginning to tune up for a concert. Mary put her hand out of the window and held it in the sun.

“It’s warm—warm!” she said. “It will make the green points push up and up and up, and it will make the bulbs and roots work and struggle with all their might under the earth.”

She kneeled down and leaned out of the window as far as she could, breathing big breaths and sniffing the air until she laughed because she remembered what Dickon’s mother had said about the end of his nose quivering like a rabbit’s.

“It must be very early,” she said. “The little clouds are all pink and I’ve never seen the sky look like this. No one is up. I don’t even hear the stable boys.”

A sudden thought made her scramble to her feet.

“I can’t wait! I am going to see the garden!”

She had learned to dress herself by this time and she put on her clothes in five minutes. She knew a small side door which she could unbolt herself and she flew downstairs in her stocking feet and put on her shoes in the hall. She unchained and unbolted and unlocked and when the door was open she sprang across the step with one bound, and there she was standing on the grass, which seemed to have turned green, and with the sun pouring down on her and warm sweet wafts about her and the fluting and twittering and singing coming from every bush and tree. She clasped her hands for pure joy and looked up in the sky and it was so blue and pink and pearly and white and flooded with springtime light that she felt as if she must flute and sing aloud herself and knew that thrushes and robins and skylarks could not possibly help it. She ran around the shrubs and paths towards the secret garden.

“It is all different already,” she said. “The grass is greener and things are sticking up everywhere and things are uncurling and green buds of leaves are showing. This afternoon I am sure Dickon will come.”

The long warm rain had done strange things to the herbaceous beds which bordered the walk by the lower wall. There were things sprouting and pushing out from the roots of clumps of plants and there were actually here and there glimpses of royal purple and yellow unfurling among the stems of crocuses. Six months before Mistress Mary would not have seen how the world was waking up, but now she missed nothing.” 

-excerpt from “The Secret Garden” by Frances Hodgson Burnett.