What Can You Learn from Your Inner Child? — The Spacious Place
Adulting. We know we have to do it. Nobody gets to be Peter Pan. And it’s so easy to get annoyed with people who can’t seem to grow up. We want people to take responsibility for their actions and be productive members of society. And, of course, we all know that selfishness is not a virtue. Life should never be about me, myself, and I. But sometimes we get so consumed with the weight of our responsibilities and the expectations placed upon us that we forget the value of childlikeness.
Think about the things that come so easily for most children. Trust, wonder, laughter, belief, joy, excitement, carefree fun. Children possess a natural ability to live from the heart, embracing the good in their midst. Somewhere along the way, this capacity dwindles for most of us. But this unique moment in time, as many of us are confined to our homes, might just be a perfect opportunity to rediscover what’s been lost. It might be the remedy you need to see you through a challenging season.
What are some things that brought you joy as a child that you haven’t done in years?
Yesterday, my 20-year-old daughter and I took the time to decorate our driveway with sidewalk chalk. It’s not something I would normally do on a Friday afternoon, but the weather was fabulous, and I figured the neighborhood could use a little cheer. Besides, what else is there to do during quarantine when you’ve already disinfected all the doorknobs and light switches?
I enjoyed creating flowers, bluebirds, and coffee cups with my daughter, and I will credit myself with an afternoon well-spent. It was pure, carefree fun. No pressure. No expectations. Just the good company of my daughter, a box of colorful chalk, and the freedom to create. It was something an 8-year-old me would have loved.
Throughout my childhood, I loved climbing trees. The tamarack tree behind our yellow farmhouse was made for climbing. Its lowest branch was perfectly positioned, with a little help from a well-placed foot on the trunk, for hoisting oneself upward. The branches were evenly spaced and the needles were soft. Even the least athletically inclined, which I consider myself, could easily climb to the highest branches. Only once did I fall from a significant height, thankfully suffering no more than mere scrapes and bruises. Without skipping a beat, I was right back at it, climbing my old friend.
I also loved the enormous willow tree in our yard. It was much more difficult to climb, but my dad built me a treehouse so I could enjoy that tree as well. It was the perfect place to spend an afternoon with a friend singing songs from Girl Scout camp or dropping water balloons.
Days spent in the trees were times when I had the greatest sense of God’s presence. I was completely myself, without a care in the world. And even when I did bring my worries or anxiety with me, the tree was a safe place to let go, to give my burdens to God. I don’t know if that was a conscious thought process, but it’s how those moments feel as I reflect upon them.
A couple years ago, I was asked to speak on short notice at a Christian conference. I had no idea what I should share, but when I asked God for help, I heard two words. Full circle. I wasn’t sure what that meant; but as I sat quietly, it began to unfold. In recent months, God had begun to bring me back to a place of wonder. The place that I knew as a child. The place where I did not doubt his existence as I watched the wind move magically through the leaves of the willow tree. God was bringing me home, back to his heart. Full circle. That sense of wonder had never completely left me. There were certainly moments when I still experienced it, but they grew further apart the older I became. My heart had grown hard, but God was softening it, restoring something of my childlikeness. It felt like freedom!
