I ran on the hill,
Swerving in and out of the darkened path
In pursuit of my brothers and cousin.
Never give up, I pant
As a girl I lived for chases
Yet now the joy’s obsolete,
An artifact up on display.
I’ve seen the hillside of my youth
It is an once-upon-a-time
From the inside looking out
Yet prayers of energy
Yet prayers of pure hearts
Yet prayers of immense joy
Cry out from within me
What if the energy is dampened?
What if the purity is clouded?
What if the joy is buried?
What if your inner-child’s suppressed?
There’s this hillside, located in the foothills of the Southern Rockies and the side yard of a dining hall. I wish I have a picture. It is not anything special, but a hill with a building on top and a tree-covered path in the middle of hill. It was to the side of the building, you will reach the spot by exiting the doors closest to the restrooms. As a girl, in the late nineties or early 2000s, I used to go out to the spot with my older brothers and cousin (as the adults finish eating and/or talk grown-up stuff) and we will play. Usually it’ll be a tag game (which I now know to be a smaller version of The Blob) where I was always “it” and it brought me such joy to catch everyone else, particularly the two oldest. I mean, I was the littlest and smallest, so if I was able to catch someone 7-10 years older than me, it was a big deal.
That game never got old for me. I think back to that time fondly. Recalling how it made me feel. When I worked at that place, sometimes I will stop and look out. I will remember everything. I will remember chasing after my brothers, the purple hood of my jacket falling off (the purple hood was a very important factor of the game, I can’t believe I almost forgot that part. I won’t say the whole reason but that I was obsess with the color purple and family members would remember a certain vowel sound I liked to hold). I will get sad though, because I have grown up and my child-like wonder and joy had faded like my girlhood.
Sometimes I think we think once we pass through the threshold of adulthood, childhood is gone and there’s no turning back. That we easily grow wearisome of the pursuit to do God’s Will. But Jesus said that the greatest is one who has faith like a child. Doesn’t that mean that we can go back to that time of our lives? Why can’t we have the same joy, energy, and purity like I had as a child chasing after my brothers?
What if we still have that?
What if the responsibilities of adulthood suppresses that child-like faith?
What if we pursue God with the same joy like we have had as a child?