"You cannot catch a child's spirit by running after it;
you must stand still and for love it will soon itself return."
[Arthur Miller]

I babysat Ben the again the other night. He was tired before I even arrived, so he was less trouble than ever (and he's never really any trouble), because he wanted to get through his routine quickly and get to bed. I'm still a little anxious about babysitting, but it's slowly wearing off, and I continue to embrace it as an opportunity to grow in an area of my life sorely lacking - my ability to deal with children. He's too young to realize it, but he's teaching me, and I've still got a lot to learn, but I'll get there. Every time I think of babysitting him, I'm reminded of that scene from "Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story" where Bruce acknowledges that his son, Brandon, can bring his family back together in a way that he can't (when his mother-in-law comes to visit for the first time ever). It's Brandon teaching them. It's Ben teaching me.

As is often the case, I came away with a bit to think about. In this case, it came from when he was saying his prayers before bed. Part of his bedtime routine is to say a short prayer before he gets tucked in. I gladly lead him through this - even saying one myself if I must - even though I don't normally pray. This is a fact which really bothers my brother, as he, like I, hates the idea of the indoctrination of the young. But as I see it, it's not my choice - I was asked to babysit, and this is part of that routine, one my sister has laid out for her child. Furthermore, if you actually hear him pray, you might find it a more enlightening experience than you'd first think.

Yes, part of the prayer is pure rote. It's a banter about "may I be more like you in every way" (etc, etc). But the first part, the part he wings each time (with not a lot of variance, mind you, he's only 4), is where each night he gives thanks for all the wonderful things in his life. He always mentions mommy and daddy. Sometimes he mentions friend. Sometimes he names them. Sometimes he just lumps them as a group. Sometimes he mentions an activity, or a toy. Sometimes he mentions other relatives. Whoever is there babysitting, I'm sure will always be mentioned. So on this occassion, he was thankful for Uncle Pat.

Then he stopped in mid-sentence to give me a hug and tell me he loved me, before resuming his list.

Yes, granted, the emotional response of such an event is something that set me back a bit, but what I found more intriguing was my first, split-second gut-reaction in my mind when he said it and hugged me. "Why? You don't even know me."

There, in that moment, is the difference between adults and children. We work for, earn, exchange, coerce, negotiate... contracts of love between one another. We work for what children so willing give away for free. They love. They trust. And they need to be given good reason not to, while we feel we must be given reason why we should.

The incredible beauty, purity, magnificence... of that kind of wondrous innocence is... beyond any words I can string together.

Imagine, how much happier and fuller our lives, if we could each so easily love with the same unmitigated trust for those around us, and if we each took a moment each night, to bring to mind the things in our life for which we were most thankful.

To whom it may concern,

Tonight I'm thankful for the excellent friends and family I have. I am especially thankful today for the support Geoff, Tracey, Shaie, Krista and Teresa sent my way for my anxious evening endeavour. I'm thankful for my good and loyal friend Rod, whom I shall someday soon write about. I'm thankful for my (relatively good) health. I'm thankful I worked today, and that I'll be working tomorrow. I'm thankful for the eager curiousity my close friends will no doubt show me tomorrow in asking how my night went. I'm thankful for the good meal and pleasant conversation I shared this evening with Emily.

I will aspire to more aggressively pursue a more solid career, and to touch as many lives as I can in a positive way. I will seek beauty. I share as much beauty with others as I find and am able. I will endeavour to be a better person, inside and out, and to repay to my friends and family the same wondrous love they visit upon me, and more.

I am thankful for my nephew Benjamin, for helping to teach his uncle how not just to love children, but how just to love.

Amen, Benjamin. Amen.

PS: For more idle day-to-day banter, I've started a blog at: http://unfoldingsoul.blogspot.com.