Wonder In Uncertain Times

We get the magazine www.wondertime.com (thanks shishie!) which prints beautiful pages with suggestions of small, magical things about the world to share with your children. One article talked about how to make an adventure out of airline travel for your toddler. Another article shared one mom's experience of lining up all of her kids' toys in a parade during naptime to watch them re-discover some old friends when they woke up. Inspiring, adorable, creative stuff.

Wondertime has me thinking about how to make the most of these years when everything is new and when my daughter is discovering all of the fantastic things about living. Things like chocolate and sunshine, the sprinkler and sidewalk chalk, books and music.

She's been learning about the people of her neighborhood at school: fire fighters, police officers, postal carriers and doctors are this month's subjects. She has hung on to every detail about them and when we encounter one such individual, she is so thrilled to see them, waive, and tell them what she knows. During our regular Saturday morning bakery visit, she stands almost at the door greeting people as they come in. "Hi!"

After a day like today, I worry that I may be setting her up for disappointment later. The world is not safe. There are many days that are scary and devoid of any magic or wonder -- when the people of your neighborhood can't protect you. How I wish I could re-create a world for her that is more like the one I've been selling. I am beginning to think that as adults, we are in a constant battle to force our current experience into what we initially thought the world was supposed to be as children. Will it be more disappointing for her to learn over time that one by one, the things that she thought were shiny, safe and secure could have rusty, sharp edges? I suppose the child in all of us gives us the capacity to experience, remember and hopefully recapture joy: finding shapes in clouds, reveling in the miracle that plastic caplets can magically turn into sponge dinosaurs in the bathtub, that an empty shoebox is the perfect a stage set for a playdough snowman performance.

Maybe that's what we all need on a day like today. After we cry our eyes out and pray and get angry and challenge our faiths, maybe all that's left is to help our children, and in turn ourselves, find wonder in a scary world.

My prayer is for new moments of hope and wonder in a time, after another event, that is not representative of who we are as a people of the American neighborhood.