Through the Looking Glass

He's a tiny boy, not even four feet even at eleven years old. He loves to climb trees. Once up inside one, he's hard to get down. When he's up there, he's in his own world and you might as well try to coax a whale out of the ocean. His dark skin and blue eyes captures your gaze and holds it as his face lights up into a smile that warms the heart and makes you feel like your eleven again. If you're lucky.

His name is Chadwin. We all knew it. It takes a special kid to be known by every member of the staff, and Chadwin is a special kid. Chadwin's counselor was more tired at the end of the week than the other counselors. The other counselors on his team were more tired than the counselors on the other teams. And we were all a little more tired at the end of that week than we were the others (though admitedly, Chadwin wasn't the only reason for that!).

The thing about Chadwin that made him kind of hard to deal with was that you never really knew where you stood with him. One minute you and he would be best buddies. He'd come over to you at lunch, give you a little side hug, laugh at a joke and go skipping off in that happy-go-lucky way that little boys have and we're all a little jealous of. Then you'd pass him in the hallway shortly after that and he'd look up at you with disgust and say, 'You. I don't like you.'.

I could never figure him out. But fortunatley for me, and probably for Chadwin, the continual love and admiration of an eleven year old boy doesn't make or break my day. Especially in his case, when I knew he'd be giving me another high five by that evening.

Chadwin face as he looked at me that day in the hallway--the face full of disgust, not the other one--kept popping into my head today. It occurred to me that maybe I was looking into a mirror of sorts. Except that on the flip side of the reflection, Chadwin's face was my own and I was seeing it through God's eyes.

How often have I joyfully climbed into the tree that God has led me to, only to adamantly refuse to come down no matter what? How many times have I seen God from across the field and run to greet him, only to rue the day we met later on when I don't get seconds at dinner?

A lot of times, let me tell you.

Fortunatley for God--and forme--the continual love and admiration of a thirty three year old boy doesn't make or break his day. And he just goes about his business, knowing that I'll be back.

And he's right.