Greener Pastures

"He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul."

Psalm 23:2-3

A little social experiment I conduct semi regularly known as

 Taking my 19 month old to the park:

This adorable, tiny person is too small to understand the equipment, and too short to actually utilize any of it, even if he could understand it.  He doesn't feel like he's missing anything though.  He's happy to have a large area of land to wander, explore, discover, and conquer.  Just like every pioneer throughout the history of the world.  

     I put that baby's fresh, chubby feet down on the ground, and he starts running free.  He has no thought past his next step, and no long term goal in mind, except for whatever is in his line of sight and has captured his interest.  It will be a thing of interest until the next thing captures him.  And then he will wander over to that newer thing.  Unless he gets distracted by yet another thing of obvious fascination, in which case, his course will once again be altered.  It doesn't really matter, because all he knows is that he is free!  And all of this is his for the terrorizing.  And whatever he's thinking right now is what he is thinking right now; this current thought is absolute truth, and it is straightforward and not complicated.

     With every step he takes, I am right behind him, though he only chooses to acknowledge that he perceives me if he wants something which he cannot attain for himself.  A drink of water?  A lift and push on the baby swings?  Oh yes, now it is convenient for me to remember the tall Mommy person who brought me here. 

But even when his perception of me waxes and wanes according to his own particular set of feelings and desires,  My own eyes never wander from the form of my son, and in what direction he is headed.  I see where his eyes focus, and I let him run up to most things.  But I am always there behind him, weighing the possible dangers.  I usually just observe and let him run, but when I see that a precarious or hazardous situation is ahead, (for example, when he runs straight towards the swing set, on which another child's legs are vigorously swinging and poised to meet directly with his forehead with a surprisingly mighty force) I am quick to swoop him up and not put him down again until the danger has passed, or until I have moved him to a safe location.  Then, and only then, do I let him explore again.  He is often frustrated at his removal.  But once his attention has been purposely refocused, he is usually just as happy as ever.  And sometimes, he doesn't fight at all, he thinks it's fun to be picked up, or he's getting tired and relishing in the relief of having to move around on his own puny strength.  His legs, which are proportionally proportional to his body, are proportionally minuscule when measured against the surface of the world on which he thrashes.

But the times when he is mad, boy, is he ever mad.  He will flail and kick and yell and cry-actual tears will flow down his cheeks!  As if his whole body is saying "YOU ARE RUINING ALL THE FUN AND EVERYTHING GOOD IN MY LIFFFFFFFEEEEEE!"  Though when it comes to his life, I am actually the only one saving and protecting it.  

So that he can live to explore another day.

(In which I will once again protect him from sure dangers of which he was never, ever, ever aware.)

"The LORD keeps you from all harm and watches over your life;  The LORD keeps watch over you as you come and go, both now and forever."

Psalm 121:7-8