I’ve been keeping a friend’s baby this week. William. He’s three months old and pretty cute. Monday, he got a little irritated. Well, a lot irritated. I rocked, I bounced, I walked,
Baby William, sleeping soundly OUTSIDE!
I sang. Nothing worked. It was cloudy outside and pretty cool (at least for early September), so I thought maybe a stroller ride would soothe him. Buckling him into the seat was challenging. (Why do the safety straps on all those things hook together differently?!? Shouldn’t there be one best way and they all work that way?!?) But, finally, me, the stroller, and the screaming baby were ready. I opened up the patio door and pushed the stroller outside. The INSTANT the stroller rolled over the threshold into the outdoors, William stopped crying. Another few feet and he closed his eyes. A couple of trips up and down the driveway and he was asleep.
Most little kids I know really like to go outside. I like to be outside, too, sometimes. But I don’t relish it, the way I see little children doing. I’ll go out and pull some weeds, or sit and read a while. But I do not go running from end to end and side to side of whatever space I’m in, the way Peter does in his back yard or the community center’s playground, searching for interesting leaves and blades of grass to examine, or rocks to lick, or ladybugs to count (as long as there’s not more than six). And dirt to roll in.
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- Ozero David Goodwin-OUTSIDE in the fall of 1923
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- David-age 21 months-Well, no dirt.
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- Kevin at 10 months-Dirty, gravelly, dusty
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- Jeremy at 2-very interested in . . . something
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- Peter at 14 months-DIRT!
I was with Peter one afternoon, when he was a few months old. He was weary and irritated and becoming hungry, waiting for April to get home from school. I rocked, I bounced, I walked, I sang. Finally, I went with the wailing baby over to the front door, unlatched it, went outside and sat down on a chair on the front porch. Peter continued to squall. A moment later, a little breeze blew by, touching his cheeks. His eyelids exploded open, and he was instantly quiet. I could see what he was thinking. “Ollie, Mollie, Gollie! I’m OUTSIDE!!” And until April arrived, he sat contentedly in my lap, enjoying God’s world–the fragrance of the blooming bush beside us, the chirps of birds, the sunlit day. And also, the plethora of cars and trucks that scoot up and down his street.
God’s glory is on tour in the skies,
God-craft on exhibit across the horizon.
Madame Day holds classes every morning,
Professor Night lectures each evening.
Their words aren’t heard,
their voices aren’t recorded,
But their silence fills the earth:
unspoken truth is spoken everywhere.
God makes a huge dome
for the sun—a superdome!
The morning sun’s a new husband
leaping from his honeymoon bed,
The daybreaking sun an athlete
racing to the tape.
That’s how God’s Word vaults across the skies
from sunrise to sunset,
Melting ice, scorching deserts,
warming hearts to faith.
Psalm 19: 1-6 (The Message)
I’ve known children who stood weeping at the door, sobbing “‘Side! ‘Side! ‘Side!” when there was a blizzard, a hailstorm, or hurricane-force winds out there; or one hundred eight degree temps. What is it? I guess I don’t remember what it felt like, to be a child and be released from the bindings of indoors, to run free and be free. Maybe I should spend more time outside, counting ladybugs. I’m going to pass on the rock-licking.
I grew up next door to my grandmother with a vacant lot between us-a baseball, volleyball, croquet, sunbathing, chasing vacant lot. Our parents in the neighborhood had to lasso us to get us in the house by dark!
Those were the days, weren’t they! I had a swing set in my backyard, and I remember spending *lots* of time out there, swinging and climbing and jumping.