The Kid in Me

O men, grown sick with toil and care,
Leave for awhile the crowded mart;
O women, sinking with despair,
Weary of limb and faint of heart,
Forget your years to-day and come
As children back to childhood's house.

-Phoebe Cary

I often wish I could go back to the summers when I was a kid. There was so much to explore, so much to see, so much to learn. I often lament as a maturing young adult, as I'm sure that many adults do, that life can't be simpler. Work, school, bills, deadlines, children, the list goes on. Dishes pile up, laundry doesn't get done, and you still haven't taken that nap you promised yourself. It has come to my attention that many adults just survive at life...and I'm not sure that I like that. What happened to being a kid? What happened to thriving?

There are a few things that prompted this thought, but I will get to that in a minute. In other news, we got a new stove from Chris the Californian. It's a Turbo-Mega-5000 Kitchenaid wonder that doesn't take 5 hours to boil a pan of water. We are spoiled now. Next thing you know we'll get a normal refrigerator that doesn't freeze your food, or drive (*gasp*) a normal car or two. Speaking of cars, Steve the Ford Tempo has something wrong with him. He is an old geezer of a car, and pants up hills like he's going to have a heart attack. And he uses way more gas than he used to. But no matter how many funny looks I get, I don't have the heart to put him down. Probably the wrong phrase for that analogy. Oh well. In any case, I need to start looking for a new ride.

Our cousin Easton has been here for about a month now, and has acclimated quite well to Parker culture. It probably helps that he is from the backwoods. He and JJ often go fishing, or swimming, or crawdad hunting in the dark. Dangerous stuff. For me, I mean. I tried to fill up my water bottle in the sink yesterday morning and came face to face with about 10 large crustaceans, eyes bulging, claws clacking, still alive and pinching. Yeesh, is nothing sacred?

Grandma and Grandpa are visiting from the Bay Area in California, and we do our best not to hold that against them. They are sleeping in my room for a few days, so I am exiled to the couch, which would not be all that uncomfortable, except I'm not a midget. The household is even more chaotic than normal, if that is possible. The din is never-ending. There are crawdads in the sink, buckets of blackberries waiting to be eaten, muddy footprints all over the floor, and so many cars in the yard it looks like a parking lot. Easton runs around asking for money to buy a Glock (12 years old, c'mon), J.J. elbows Dad in the ribs and makes him angry, Dad asks for someone, anyone, to wash a dish or two. Grandpa talks investing with Mom, Grandma squeezes someone's cheeks and tells them how cute they are (it's not really cute at all, it actually kind of hurts). It's a scramble for who can be the loudest, who can drive each other crazy first. All annoyance aside, it's really a beautiful thing, having a family such as this, but I sometimes, just like Bilbo Baggins, would just like a quiet place to finish my book.

The skies are fair and the valleys are green here in Oregon. The temperature hovers around 90 degrees and the river is just cold enough to give you a shock when you jump in. We've been canoeing and hiking and swimming all over the countryside, and I can't help but be taken back in time to when summer meant only blackberry picking, smoothie-making, and jumping off of the diving log into Grandma's swimming hole. It can't always be quite that carefree as you enter adulthood, of course. Things are more complicated, I guess. But no matter how many hours I work, no matter how many kids are screaming in my house, and no matter how many dirty dishes are in the sink, I think being a kid is an attitude of the heart. Of course I don't miss the spankings or the limited dessert, but no matter if you're Bill Gates or the poorest sucker in Poverty Flatts, you need that carefree love and uninhibited imagination in your life.

A grownup is a child with layers on.  ~Woody Harrelson

Jesus said once that unless you become like a child, you cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven. I think Jesus wants us to enjoy life. Funny concept, I know. He doesn't want us to just get by, he wants us to thrive. Some would make it a hard command to keep, and perhaps it is for some. There are some conditions to being a child at heart. One must not be grumpy. One must eat lots of cookies when not supposed to. One must cry sometimes, but then stop and go on with life and be happy about it.  Instead of moping about with my head hung low, complaining about how many things I have to do, I'd much rather go play in the sunshine (or in the rain, it really doesn't matter). Instead of approaching Him thinking of how sorry and sinful I am, I would much rather approach my Father with laughter and ask him for his help, knowing that he is a loving Father and will answer me. It doesn't seem like there is a contest to me, the latter seems infinitely better in every situation. In fact, I'm going to live life with blackberry smoothies, swimming holes, and crawdad feeds in my heart, ready to give them out freely to whoever needs one. And I think I'll have a cookie too.

The soul of a child is the loveliest flower
That grows in the garden of God.
Its climb is from weakness to knowledge and power,
To the sky from the clay and the clod.
To beauty and sweetness it grows under care-
Neglected, 'tis ragged and wild,
'Tis a plant that is tender but wondrously rare-
The sweet, wistful soul of a child.

Be tender, Oh gardner, and give it its share
Of moisture, of warmth and of light,
And let it not lack for the painstaking care
To protect it from frost and from blight.
A glad day shall come when its bloom shall unfold;
It will seem that an angel has smiled,
Reflecting a beauty and sweetness untold

In the sensitive soul of a child.                                              
-Author Unknown