Maybe it’s because it’s absolutely beautiful outside, my recent ingestion of a lot of sugar, still holding on to the fact I can at least count pretty successfully in MATH 101 or even a combination of the three that has me feeling particularly thankful lately and counting my blessings. It’s hard for me to see light kissing every surface possible, a crisp blue sky with wisps of cloud and crazy teenagers running around in shorts and flip flops without inwardly laughing and wanting to give God a gratified squeeze.
Even on my walk over to work last week, I was breathing in the balmy Minnesota air and soaking up the sun when I heard, “Oooo AH AH AH AH AH!” Yep. On the way past Murray-Herrick, I heard a monkey (otherwise known as a four-year-old boy). A group of visiting preschoolers was busy making the most of one of the disappearing patches of snow, sliding and inching down a hill under the shade of the building. I saw one bundled-up child grudgingly give up a large amount of rocks they were collecting to a scolding adult, who put them back in the landscaping surrounding a tree trunk. I saw two little girls hugging. I heard one child whine in distress, “But it’s MY turn to be the leopard!”
Mostly, though, I heard laughter and squeals of delight coming from the little hooligans. It made me chuckle a little bit, too.
I kept strolling and found my worries and my complaints melting away like the snow. I couldn’t help but think, “When do we lose that enthusiasm for life? Somewhere in the day-to-day shuffle of pressures and assignments and tests and appointments and blah blah BLAH?”
Sure, it’s not all games when we’re older, but we definitely have at least as much to be thankful for as we did when we were the monkeys and leopards.