I wonder, do I ever wonder much anymore? Do I lose myself in a sense of wonder? Do I let wonder overtake me, resisting the temptation of resolve the wonder through answers? Can I simply sit in the wonder anymore?
Llike a child approaching the ripples of an ocean wave for the first time as the coldness of the water laps over her bare feet, causing her to run back in sheer glee, eyes twinkling through shrieks of joy, only to timidly return for more, full of wonderment.
Like a child sitting in a field, fully caught up in the present moment, the Now, not feeling guilt over the past or concern about the future, but fully immersed by flowers and bugs, able to sit for hours without a care in the world except the softness of the pedals and awe of a ladybugs wings as its feet tickles her palm—no to-do list except to be fully engulfed by the wonder of the Now.
Like a child resting on her Daddy’s lap as he reads magical tales of mermaids, wondering what it would be like to swim effortlessly underwater and not being concerned over the FACT that mermaids don’t exsist, because in the story they are reading now, mermaids do exsist…and it’s wonderful.
Like a child sequestered from the omnipresence of Google—its conquest of questions and wonder, providing instant answers and destroying mystery—where questions remain questions, wonders remain wonders, and life is full of surprises, like how can a Jack Rabbits dart in and out of vineyards at 45-miles-per-hour while not being decapitated by the wires 1-foot off the ground? How does a Hummingbird hover? How high can wild Turkeys fly? How do they make bread out of a wheat kernel or wine out of a grape? Being OK with the questions and their wonder, not seeking the answers.
Have I lost my child-like sense of wonder? I believe I have. But I also have a hunch that I am slowly being given it back, and it is a wonder-full gift.
In fact, it is this sense of child-like wonder that is causing me to see the here-and-now Kingdom of God as the veil of mystery is slowly shrouding knowledge once more.
And it’s wondrous.