There is a thin membrane that holds intact the naivety of childhood. As adults, we wield a device that punctures this membrane: knowledge. And though the ripping of the membrane is a necessary part of growing up, it does seem rather unkind.
For instance, this morning I was reading the story of Jacob stealing Esau's blessing with one of my students. I've been using a children's illustrated Bible so that she can read the stories herself. One of the illustrations for this story was of Isaac as an old man, with a long gray beard. After staring at the picture, she turned to me.
"That's Isaac?" she asked, completely puzzled.
"Yes, that's Isaac." I replied, not realizing why it took her off guard.
She then flipped back a couple of pages and pointed to Isaac as a baby.
Her look was one of complete bafflement as she continued, "The Isaac with the beard is the same Isaac as this baby?"
"Yes, the Isaac that was the promised baby to Abraham and Sarah grew up and got married to Rebekah and had twins of his own. In this picture he is much older and about to die."
"But we won't get like him?" She asked with eyes that searched for my reassurance.
I went on to explain to her that just as she had grown since she was a baby, she would continue to grow as the years kept coming. She just looked at me amazed. The thought of growing old had never crossed her mind until that moment. I turned my head as I heard a faint tearing sound echoeing through the room.
1 comment:
That is so true. Oh that I could return and be like an innocent little child! But then again, would I really want to? We trade off wanting Legos to wanting cars to wanting houses. The sad part is that the older we get the less we go outside just to play with the neighbors or to walk through the woods. I am still a kid at heart, in spite of a ripped membrane. I wander through the woods alone sometimes--but I carry my imagination along.
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