Last night I went to my brother and sister-in-laws’ for dinner with the family. After scarfing down some pizza, I went outside with my two nephews to play. We looked at some butterflies, ran around on the deck and finally ended up at “the mountains”. “The mountains” are three piles of mud that my almost-four year old nephew Yuri likes to climb on. He calls them his mountains. As he ran around on them, I started to sing a silly song about “Yuri’s Mountains”. It was quite ridiculous and made little sense, but he loved it! And as I sang the silliness out at the top of my lungs, he joined in with as much passion as Michal Bubble singing a jazzy love song. When I stopped after about 15 minutes, he said “Auntie, sing it again!” So I did. And then my little almost-two year old nephew Lev (who doesn’t say many words yet) started singing along too! He was clapping his hands and letting out his joyful noise (there were no real words, just some grunts and shouts).
The whole thing just made my heart happy. There is a freedom in children that I wish we didn’t lose as adults. An ability to enjoy an off-key song and piles of mud and see them as so much more. I am continually challenged to be faithful in the little things and this is another example of that. Taking the average moments of life and seeing them as an opportunity for adventure. Looking at the weed-covered mud piles and seeing a mountain of possibility.