Look How Carefully I Hold It

I hadn’t seen him in a couple of minutes, and it was too quiet. So I walked into the living room and there stood my grandson, age three, where I knew he would be. At the marble-topped side table. In his hands, one of my treasures, a small enameled alligator. One of his favorite objects, when he comes to visit.  “Look, Honey,” he said. “Look how carefully I’m holding it. Watch how carefully I put it back down.”

I commended his care, and the alligator’s beauty.  Said he, “Alligators bite, you know.”

The joy of a young mind, given just enough freedom to explore!

Later I thought of a young woman in Nazareth, looking up perhaps from the care of her one-year-old, because it had grown too quiet in the house. And there stood her three-year-old, holding one of the few treasures in that humble household.  “Look, Mother,” He said. “Look how carefully I’m holding it.”

A good thought for these troubled times.