Wonder, pt. 2

We could learn from the experts on this topic. You know, on the topic of wonder.

We could learn from those who are still surprised and amazed on a regular basis.  The, well, not-old.  Kids.  Children.  Little ones.  They end up doing a few things quite naturally that could help us.

My wife, Robin, and I took our girls to California when they were younger.  Among many firsts they would experience, seeing an ocean was high on the list.  On the flight out I was sitting with them, and at one point we flew over a fairly large body of water and one of them asked, “Is THAT the ocean?”  “No, honey, that’s not the ocean, because we can see the end of it—off in the distance.  Just wait, the ocean is so big . . . it’s wider and longer and deeper and bigger than you can imagine.”  “Ooooh. Okay.”

Later that day, I knew right where we were heading.

We drove to an area where some cliffs overlook the Pacific.  It was here, as they stepped out of the car atop this rocky overlook with the sun barely hanging onto the horizon, that my daughters first saw the ocean.

And that’s when it hit them.  I could tell.  I heard it happen.  The awe of something so big, so beautiful, so unimaginable now in full view.  There was an audible gasp.  Then they stood there for a moment—still and speechless.  Whatever words I’d used to describe it, the Pacific Ocean was so much more.

What is it about little ones and wonder?  What can we, the not-so-little-or-young-anymore, learn from them?  Much I’m sure.  But how ’bout this for starters:

• Humility is often where we find wonder again. Children wake up every day knowing that others know more than they do.  Do we resist those moments that are more mysterious, less predictable, less in our control?
• To a child, just about everything is new. Do we really think we’ve “seen it all before?”
• And usually bigger than they are. Are we okay with something (or more importantly Someone) so much bigger than ourselves?
• If we start expecting to see something wondrous, we will. Like a little girl peering out the window of an airplane, we could be on the lookout.

We are indeed made for the state of wonder.

It’s why a regular state of gobsmackedness is good for the soul.