| Sunny Side Up August 2, 2006 �2006, Kathleen Gibson Tabatha, at birth AKB photos Praising for a new life He's fifteen and a half months old now, our first grandchild, Benjamin 'Bean', and he had his first solo sleep-over at Granana's and Gampa's house last night. We'd forgotten how indecently early toddlers rise. This morning, I donned my running shoes, and pushing the Bean in his stroller, set out for a walk down the gardened lanes bordering the edge of town. Not an ordinary walk, mind you. "This is a praise walk," I told him. "We need to thank God today!" Benjamin has no idea who God is, or why we should thank him. Not yet. He didn't know his parents had gone to the hospital during the night. And he hadn't heard his Daddy telling us, two hours earlier, that little sister Tabatha had safely made her entry into his little family. Wordsworth wrote that children arrive on this terrestrial ball "not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory�from God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!" The Bean doesn't know Wordsworth. He has a lot to discover about little sisters, too. But he grasps well the 'heaven that lies about' him - outside the screen door. He has an uncanny connection with nature. So out we went, into Benjamin's heaven, into God's morning classroom. We gazed at popcorn-shaped clouds and Crayola-colored flowers. Stopped in the park for a short slip on a long slide, endured sloppy kisses from a puppy named Alla, and watched chattering purple martins enter and exit their towering homes. All the way, the wind's baton directed the trees and winged things in heavenly chorus. "Let's sing!" I said. Benjamin opened his mouth and began, as though his song of praise had been eagerly waiting permission to exit. I may not admire Benjamin's choice of 'gettin' up' time, but I adore his singing voice. He churns out bass and falsetto in turns, reminiscent of bullfrogs croaking, lions roaring, wolves howling, angels singing. All at once, sometimes. The stroller wheels on the pebbles beneath wrinkled his remarkable vocalisms into vibrato. I'm sure God smiled as he listened and watched us trundle our way past the sleeping backyards. "I'm gonna sing, I'm gonna shout, PRAISE THE LORD..." (That was my part.) Spying a patch of clover beside the lane, I parked Benjamin a moment. "Ike will like these," I told him, plucking a handful, avoiding the slow bees droning their way among the flowers. Benjamin grinned at the mention of the guinea pig the Preacher and I are critter-sitting just now. He likes its whistles and chirps. His fingers opening and shutting eagerly, he reached for a few clover stems. An hour or so later, when we wheeled back up our driveway Benjamin clutched only a fistful of green stems - he'd eaten most of the flowers! And so we began this day with praise, the Bean and I. Singin' in a new life. Eatin' clover. And thanking God for his newest delivery: Tabatha, trailing clouds of glory. Respond Home |
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