#fellowship feels

Perhaps one of the greatest things this virus has robbed us of:

Time

The time to spend cuddling the little ones growing up too fast

The time to spend with our loved ones that left us too soon

The time to breathe between crushing shifts at the bedside

The time to properly mourn all these lost moments

The time to give ourselves the grace to let ourselves fall

And the time to pick ourselves back up, skinned knees and all

We have been broken by this virus that drowned us in the undertow

Choking every last scrap of faith we may have held;

Suffocating the little bit of hope left in the recesses of our souls;

Fracturing an already sick system at every fault line that went ignored far too long,

And ensuring that we lacked the

Time

We need to heal.

If there aren’t any kiddos in your life, you may not have realized this, but kiddos love pressing buttons. You know that visceral satisfaction you feel when you get to pop some good bubble wrap? For the little beans, every button, no matter how mundane it may seem to us, is like bubble wrap.

The other day I got on the elevator and a mom rushed on behind me, pushing her stroller with one hand and carrying her little bean in the other. I had my finger on the “door open” button to ensure they could get on, and I saw the kiddo’s wide, curious eyes trained on my hand at the button pad.

“Could you press the button for me?” I asked her, indicating with my finger which button I needed her to press. She nodded and squirmed excitedly in her mom’s arms until her mom brought her over. I stepped out of the way so she could press my floor button. She squealed with delight, giggling and beaming at me behind her tiny teddy-bear print mask. Her mother chuckled and showed her which button to press next for their destination, and she very excitedly mashed that button too.

The little peanut was just so happy by her opportunity to press buttons (and come to think of it, a lot of kiddos also just enjoy elevators for some reason) that she couldn’t stop grinning and wiggling in her mom’s arms. When we arrived at my floor I waved at her as I stepped out of the elevator, and she chirped, “Byeee!!!” and continued to wave at me until the elevator doors closed.

Children experience life and joy in a different way than adults; we are simply privileged that their experience is so willingly and enthusiastically shared.