Heavy with Wonder

It was hot.  Probably too hot to be outside in the middle of the day, but that is where Ethan, Ezra, and I found ourselves.

I was shooting baskets, while the kids played in the yard.  They were actually playing quietly, which is simply rare these days.

We were neither talking to each other, nor were we necessarily paying each other any mind.  But we were all generally content to simply be in each other's presence.

In between the noise of the ball hitting the rim and bouncing on the concrete, I heard Ezra say one phrase.    His voice was filled with what can only be described as awe.  He spoke slowly and carefully as if every word paid sacred homage.

"This...flower...is...beautiful."

I let the ball roll into the grass.  Everything was quiet, except my own soul, which screamed silence into my brain.  Something was happening that deserved its own  kind of homage.  Awe descended upon me.

What sort of little person stood near to me?  What sort of child has the spiritual awareness to stop long enough to notice the elegant eternity in something as simple and intricate as a flower?  What sort of soul had formed in five short years?  What sort of soul is capable of speaking out of the fear-filled silence of creation?


Abraham Joshua Heschel, Jewish theologian, speaks of this silence of the soul:
"Sometimes we wish the world could cry and tell us about that which made it pregnant with fear-filling grandeur.  Sometimes we wish our own heart would speak of that which made it heavy with wonder."  


For a moment, I imagine all of heaven stopped along with me.  For the hearts of a boy, a man, and all of creation had spoken a word together.  And it was filled with wonder.