Reclaiming Joy: Looking at the World Through My Son’s Eyes
It’s become our routine of sorts, Wesley and I walking the path along the river every day. Some days we encounter no one, and we enjoy each other’s company. Other days we encounter people curious to get a glimpse of the baby in the stroller, and sometimes they speak blessings over us.
Most days, Wesley and I stop at a bench by the river. This spot has become one of my favorites as it sits under a large tree, and it’s at just the right angle to see the river while also seeing the people walking past on the trail.
Today, as I took Wesley out of his stroller and placed him in my lap, the wind picked up. I sat there, eyes closed and felt the gentle breeze pass over us. When I opened my eyes, Wesley was looking up at the leaves of the tree, mouth wide open in a massive grin, dimples deep as ever, with the wind blowing through his hair. I thought to myself, isn’t this what fully embracing this moment looks like?
The parts of these walks of ours that I hold close to my heart aren’t the people complimenting my cute baby or the people who light up when I greet them or when Wesley smiles at them. Instead, it’s moments like these: watching Wesley take in the world, allowing himself to experience it fully without holding back.
A Lost Sense of Wonder
When did we lose our sense of wonder toward the world? Was it when we graduated high school and stepped into our first college class? Or was it when we graduated college and entered into the “real world”? Was it when we went through our first heartbreak?
Becoming a mom has opened my heart to the ways that I am lacking in many ways. My patience is thin some days, I’m too quick to anger, and my love is often selfish. I thank God for the ways that he is transforming me in these areas, but I also thank God for revealing to me that above all of these ways that I fall short, I’ve lost my sense of wonder towards the world. Above all else, my sense of joy has left me, and I don’t know how long it’s been gone.
Just Like Children
When you and I were children, the world was full of endless opportunities. We could be whatever we wanted. We could play school in the basement for hours, jump on the trampoline until we got dizzy, eat raspberries off the bush until our fingers were red, and jump across hay bales when our parents weren’t watching. The world seemed so big and full of wonder back then.
I’m convinced that when we start seeing the world for what it really is—full of brokenness and sin—that we become more stagnant, lukewarm, and cynical. Instead of having childlike faith, we have adult-like doubt. Our questions become more pointed, looking for specific answers instead of a child’s questions that simply seek to learn more about the beauty of the world.
When I watch my son experience the world, I desire to be just like him, taking in everything for the very first time again. Experiencing the gentleness of the breeze, wind blowing through the hair, and the feeling of grass beneath the fingers brings life. It’s joy running wild, being claimed for our hearts, becoming a part of our being.
As Wesley grows and changes and becomes more joyful, fully loving every moment of his life, I’m growing and changing too. My heart yearns for this joy, this peace, this goodness grasped within the hands of my growing boy.
The question is— how do we reclaim joy? How can I have the joy that I see my little boy embodying every single day?
We have to take on the faith of a child. We have to see the world through their eyes.
As I watch my son experience the world, here are the ways that I’m learning to reclaim joy in my own life:
I’m starting to treat the little things like the big things.
Now that Wesley is getting big enough to start communicating with me, he often does so in some fun ways. He’ll sometimes scrunch his nose or bounce up and down. The babbles are constant, and he’ll straight up scream for fun. He lets me know when he needs something, even if it’s as small as wanting a pacifier or a drink out of my water bottle that I’m using, but he always does it in an extreme way. He makes everything big. He’s just expressive that way.
I’m not saying that I’m going to start being extreme like Wesley, but I am learning to treat all the small things like they’re big just like him. Everything matters in life, and sometimes the small things are the things that give the most meaning.
I’m asking questions to seek to understand the beauty and goodness around me.
Wesley is just so open to the world and everything in it. He takes it in with his mouth wide open and nose scrunched in the wind. I can tell that he longs to experience this beauty and he wants to know more. He encourages me to look for beauty and goodness in all things and remain curious about them. Through him, I’m learning to ask better questions, not for answers alone, but for a deeper understanding of this world and all within it.
I’m learning that it’s okay to explore and be curious about the world around me.
Just like Wesley encourages me to seek understanding of this world, he also encourages me to explore. He is constantly on the move, exploring every nook and cranny in our apartment. He tries to squeeze behind the toilet, open cabinets, and get into the cat food. His favorite thing is crawling away from me, but looking back to make sure that I’m “chasing” him. Wesley wants to explore this world, and he is an adventurer of his own sort.
I’m starting to treat everyone like they are the only person in the room.
If you’ve been around Wesley, you know that he loves people. The person that he is looking at is the only person that matters in that given moment. His entire face lights up, as if he’s wanting to connect with that person in some way.
This is how I aspire to be with people. I’m learning how to focus on the person right in front of me instead of always being distracted or wanting to get a word in. I want to truly listen and invest in the person that’s right in front of me, just like Wesley does.
I’m finding joy in the ordinary.
Every morning, Wesley is thrilled about the garbage truck arriving to pick up our apartment’s trash. He speeds over to the window and watches the entire time. His eyes are peeled on the dumpster going up and down. Every single morning, the garbage truck driver acknowledges Wesley with a honk and a wave. The ordinary things like laundry, dishes, and cooking can be made joyful if we simply change our perspective about them. To Wesley, these things are full of adventure, and they’re a privilege to partake in. The way he finds joy in the simplest of things reminds me that the ordinary can be joyful if I choose to live like it is.
I’m starting to live more carefree.
Before I got pregnant, I was fairly uptight about everything. But somehow, when I was pregnant I started to feel less particular about things. Part of me feels like Wesley was having an influence on me already while he was in the womb. I’m starting to become less uptight about life, and I allow myself to have fun and be free.
A life that is lived uptight is not freedom. It is good for organization and to keep our families safe, but it is a life that is enslaved to particularity if we are not careful. I’m choosing to live more carefree and curious, fun and adventurous. While part of me will always be particular about certain things, it feels freeing to know that life can be fun when we let go of our need for control.
I’m learning the art of trust and surrender.
Similarly to learning how to live carefree, I’m learning how to better trust God and surrender to his plans. Many aspects of motherhood caught me completely off guard. Being a mother and watching my son live so open-handedly has reminded me of my necessity for God. I cannot do anything apart from Him. Surrendering to God has lifted so much weight off of my shoulders because I don’t have to be the one making the calls. I can choose to live curiously and carefree, knowing that God has us in the palm of his hand.