Unless you become as a little child . . .

Last Sunday I spent the afternoon with Emily, my (almost) six year old granddaughter. I had been contemplating the time for several weeks. What could I do with her that would be special and memorable? An idea that had been planted in my mind several months ago when Kay and I spent a day in San Francisco pushed its way into my consciousness.

We were playing tourist and exploring local landmarks we had never visited. (It seems that you never visit the places in your own backyard while to tourists some of these places are a “must see.”) In this case we were visiting the world-famous landmark the San Francisco Ferry Building. It is a place of boutiques, shops and eateries located on the San Francisco waterfront. While there we met a couple who commented that one of there favorite things was to take their granddaughter on the ferry from Oakland (near where we live) to San Francisco, to have lunch and go home.

It seemed to me that Emily would be excited to take this trip. It would be much more memorable than to go to a movie, or just go out to get ice cream or the like. On a beautiful clear and warm Sunday afternoon we left home and drove the 10 miles to Jack London Square on the Oakland waterfront. After the adventure of finding parking, we hurried off to the dock where the ferry was set to arrive in about 20 minutes. We hurried because we didn’t want to be late. We arrived and watched the clock count down. Emily was being giddy. I teased her about being silly. Her reply: “No Papa. You’re silly.” Then her eyes caught sight of a pelican diving for fish, then ducks and so it went as she climbed on the railing to look at the sight of sailboats tacking across the Alameda channel. Finally our ferry arrived. We boarded and went up to the second deck and looked out through the window.

We made the journey in about 25 minutes and disembarked at the San Francisco ferry building. Our next objective—to find Peet’s Coffee. (Although I prefer Starbucks to Peet’s she loves Peet’s and I knew there was a Peet’s in the Ferry Building.) Mission accomplished—She got a hot chocolate and a big chocolate chip cookie. We had about an hour before the ferry was scheduled to return so we went exploring. She wanted to go to the park across the street. We got there but to her dismay there were no swings and the grass was wet from a rainstorm the day before. We went to the Hyatt Regency, up two escalators and into the huge open air atrium. She thought that was pretty neat, but what was really special was that Santa’s elves were setting up a huge railroad set with a town decorated up for Christmas—she wanted to stay, but time was getting short. Down the escalators and out the revolving door, well not really out. She had never been in a revolving door so she ran ahead of me and got in door. I was one space behind her. She wanted to go around and around and around laughing and looking back at me with a “You can’t catch me” look in her eyes. I finally coaxed her out and we headed back to the ferry.

This time when we boarded she insisted that we go on the upper deck. We would not stay inside on the upholstered chairs. Up onto the third deck we went. She ran to the side and stuck her head out into the wind. Her hair blew. She giggled and giggled. She watched the foam as the bow of the boat cut through the water. Then we went astern and watched the wake. “The water looks like snow!” she exclaimed. “Can I take a picture of it?” I put the wristband of the camera around her wrist and let her take several pictures. Of the wake, of the water, of the shoreline, of the birds—most at an odd angle. She continued to giggle, laugh and “ooh” and “aah.”

My son told me yesterday that all she can talk about it that boat ride.

The words of Jesus to his disciples have come to me several times this week: Unless you become as a little child you will never enter the kingdom of heaven (Matt. 18:3). While the Lord was looking here at the character of children to trust, there is another part of childlikeness too that has struck me—the ability to observe the world with wide-eyed wonder, and giggle with the joy of discovery.

I in my five plus decades of life have seen and experienced much and while there is much I enjoy and appreciate and am thankful for, I do not often feel the sense of wonder that I observed in Emily. I have to dust off the cobwebs the unused filing cabinet in the back of my brain to remember what it is like to see for the first time and to be giddy with the joy of discovery.

Perhaps this is one of the blessings that the Lord has saved for grandparents, to be able to see life  through the eyes of a child again.