But God calls us to grow up with joy July 29, 2024

2 Corinthians 13:11 Be joyful. Grow to maturity. Encourage each other. Live in harmony and peace. Then the God of love and peace will be with you.

“Grammy, I want to walk on a trail.”

“I would love to go with you, Talita. Do you want to invite Caleb and Liliana too?”

“Yes, but Juliana is too little.”

I take a moment to observe my youngest granddaughter, deftly managing a popsicle in one hand and watermelon in the other.

As the three kids and I start down a sun-dappled trail into the woods, we decide they will take turns choosing which path to take each time we come to a “Y.” The chooser will be the leader until we come to another branch in the trail.

“Grammy, Caleb isn’t letting me be the leader!” yells four-year-old Talita as her six-year-old brother whizzes past her. “Caleb, come back!”

“I don’t want to go as slow as Talita. I want to RUN!” pleads Caleb, coming back to us.

I am thrilled with Caleb’s restored energy, now that he’s on the right diet for his newly diagnosed Celiac disease. I want him to celebrate feeling good again.

“Would you like Caleb to be your scout, Talita?” I suggest. “He can run ahead to the next curve and then come back to tell you what he finds out.”

“Good idea!” chimes in their four-year-old cousin Liliana. “When I’m the leader he can be my scout, too.”

“OK,” says Talita reluctantly. “I thought the leader has to always be in front.”

“A leader chooses which way for the group to go. But she needs information about what’s ahead to make a good choice,” I tell her.

“I’ll come back and tell you what I see,” promises Caleb, taking off again.

Liliana races after him. “I’ll be a scout with you, Caleb!”

Talita takes my hand and sighs. “I don’t think they’re letting me be the leader.” She starts singing, then stops. “Sing with me, Grammy!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know this song.”

“You could learn it on your phone.”

“But then I would be looking at my phone instead of enjoying the pretty flowers and trees.”

“Why did you bring your phone, then?”

“In case one of us gets hurt, or we get lost. I can use my phone to call for help.”

Caleb runs back to us with a lacy white flower.

“There are lots more of these around the bend, Talita. Hurry up so you can see them.”

“Grammy, the flower tickles my mouth when I smell it,” giggles Talita. “Here, try it!”

I take the flower and tickle my mouth as Talita grins. Then I hand the flower back to her and turn to Caleb.

“Thank you for your excellent scouting. The flower is very pretty. But do you remember—there’s a rule in parks. We can’t pick the flowers. We have to leave them for other people to enjoy too.”

Caleb hangs his head. “I forgot. I wanted to show it to Talita.”

“Tell you what. Next time we see pretty flowers we can take a picture. That’s a way of taking it home with us.”

“I saw pink flowers!” yells Lili. “Take a picture of me with them, Grammy.”

“Can I take the picture of Liliana and the pink flowers?” asks Talita.

“Good idea!” says Lili.

We all hurry after her to the site of the photo shoot. After one picture morphs into a series of photos in Talita’s hands as Lili makes funny faces, and of course a selfie, we continue down the trail.

Growing up involves so many skills, I muse. Learning to accept boundaries. Exploring possibilities. Practicing skills of negotiation. Trying different roles. I love these precious times with my littles. Oh— “No, Talita!” I yell. “We’re not walking in the river today!”

“Why not?” the other two ask me, running after their leader to the edge of the creek.

“Your parents agreed to a walk on a trail. Not to a walk in the river. I don’t think they brought clothes for you to change into. We can walk in the river another day.”

“Well, I’m already wet,” says Talita. “And don’t you always tell us we’ll dry?”

“I see a Y up ahead! It’s my turn to be the leader!” yells Lili. “Carry this big stick for me, Grammy, to show Juliana. Do you want to be a scout now, Tata?”

“Don’t call me Tata. No. Caleb can keep being the scout. I’ll walk with Grammy.” Talita comes out of the creek and takes my hand again. “But I’m the photographer, Liliana, so tell me if you want more pictures.”

“Good idea!” says Lili, dashing after her scout.

“Ooo, my shoes are squishy. But—”

“They’ll dry,” Talita and I say together.

Talita starts singing in Portuguese a song I do know, “Alelu, alelu, alelu, aleluia, glórias a Deus.” She picks up a stick to direct me in singing alternate phrases of the song. Then we follow our new leader down the branch of the Y she chooses, this one looping back to where we started our walk in the woods.

Talita glimpses our picnic site, adds her director stick to the collection the kids have asked me to carry to show Juju, and takes off after Caleb and Liliana.

I watch the kids’ reunion with their parents, and their excitement as I arrive with their treasures: dry leaves, one of them “gigantic,” sticks of several sizes, bark that has fallen off a tree trunk, a rock Caleb says is shaped like a gemstone, and the tickly white flower.

As I watch them, I hope I never grow too “mature” to enjoy the woods through the eyes of a child.