Tag: Bryn

Unscheduled Moments of Joy

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20031 Comment

Dear Will:

I’m doing math with my 9-year-old. I’m seated on her bedroom floor with my laptop while she slogs through several pages worth of multiplication problems. She has this math teacher who seems to believe that the best thing to do with children is to lock them in their rooms after school and only let them out to do chores and to eat an occasional bowl of gruel. Don’t misunderstand; my wife and I expect academic excellence from our children. But more and more these days we’re wondering where all the play time went.

Surely you remember play time. It was when you stopped worrying about lists and appointments and have-tos and simply indulged the moment’s current whim. It was a time in which you ran just for the fun of it, when you pretended to be someone and somewhere you were not. It was a period of exuberance and imagination and sheer joy. And in my case it stopped happening about 30 years ago.

Fortunately my 4-year-old does not have a preschool teacher who assigns homework. While Bryn and I are doing math, he’s in the bathtub surrounded by a menagerie of plastic animals, saving the “nice guys” from the “mean guys.” As is typical of kids his age, he directs the clashes with animated, pyrotechnic play-by-play. With Seth, bath time is almost a spectator sport.

In fact, I confess that I like to listen to his running commentary. I take great joy in his joy. Who doesn’t get a certain sort of primal delight hearing the unselfconsciousness of a small child? And now that I think of it, other experiences with my family can trigger a similar joyful sensation: walking the dog with my daughter, reading scriptures with my eldest son, looking at my wife from across a crowded room.

And perhaps that is ultimately what I should keep in mind as I long for younger, more carefree days. The deep-down feelings of love triggered by each day’s simple moments serve as a good reminder to me that although my days of unfettered fun have long since slipped away, ultimately “fun” is not really what this life is all about. The scripture tells us: “Men are, that they might have joy,” which is to say, fun is nice, but it’s transitory at best. Joy on the other hand has depth and longevity that make it an eternal emotion.

So how exactly do we find joy? I think it’s by filling our days with things that really matter, by getting through our lists and have-tos and still making time for unscheduled moments in which we connect with loved ones, give simple service to others, share a smile—even do a little math with a 9-year-old.

May you find such joyful moments each day—and if you can manage some fun along the way, all the better.

PW

Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash

The Safest, Surest Course

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20031 Comment

Dear Will:

Last month we caved in and finally got our daughter Bryn a dog. She had been working us pretty steadily for nearly a year, a no matter how many obstacles we threw in her way, she still seemed to find a way around them. You might say she was doggedly determined. So as her ninth birthday approached we knew we had little choice: It was time to head to the pound.

We returned home with Barnum, an exuberant little mutt with a propensity to walk on his hind legs, leap up to try to lick your nose, and steal the wiffle ball in the middle of a game of home run derby (Snoopy made a much better shortstop). He is also a submissive pup, inclined to pee on the carpet when he gets in trouble. He is full of energy and prone to mischief, but inasmuch as he adores our daughter (and she him) we have accepted him more or less as one of us.

Not long after we had brought him home, Dana and I were out for the evening while we left Luke, our 13-year-old, in charge of the others. The three kids decided to take Barnum down to Linda Vista School and let him run around. Since they were alone at the school they released the dog from his leash and to let him tear around the grass. They were having a wonderful time when another couple from the neighborhood appeared on the school grounds with a pair of German Shepherds—also off leash. Well, as you might imagine those big dogs spotted Barnum right off and the chase was on. Of course meek little Barnum wanted nothing to do with two dogs three times his size, so he took off at full speed, leaving our children in a panic.

With the help of the extremely apologetic couple, Luke, Bryn, and Seth searched for Barnum for around half an hour. He was nowhere to be found. Worried sick and unsure what to do next, they finally gave up and went home—where they found Barnum lying in the garage, awaiting their return. Needless to say, they were amazed that Barnum knew the way home (he had been with us maybe two weeks at that point) and thrilled that he already recognized our house as his house, a safe haven where he knew he would be taken care of.

As I thought of what had transpired, I was reminded of Jesus’s parable of the Prodigal Son. You will recall that He told of a young man who laid early claim to his inheritance, left home and squandered it on riotous living. Plunged into poverty, he finally decided to return home, beg forgiveness, and ask for a job working as servant to his father. Rather than berate his son for his foolishness, the father instead held a great feast in his honor—for he who had been lost was found.

Jesus told that story to remind us all that no matter how far astray we might wander, when we make the effort to return to our Heavenly Father, He welcomes us with open arms. In that regard, when we find ourselves wandering where we shouldn’t or harried by the evil that surrounds us, it would do us all well to remember what Barnum already knows: that the safest, surest course is the one that leads us home again.

PW

Feeling Truly Connected

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20031 Comment

Dear Will:

Today my kids and I took a hike up into the hills that give Cannon Street its character. If you’ve never been up there, it makes for a nice little hike. The terrain is only occasionally precarious, and you’re pretty much guaranteed to have the entire place to yourself. If you’re looking for benches to rest on and signs explaining the flora and fauna, forget it. But if you just want a chance to get away from the city in the midst of the city, you could do a lot worse.

What I especially like about this particular location (aside from the fact that I can walk there from my house) is that it allows you to perch above the city (above the county on a clear day) and get an almost bird’s-eye view of the place. From a single spot we could see the entire reservoir (isn’t it great to see it full of water again?), the new Grijalva Park over off of Prospect, the rows of homes along Rockinghorse Ridge, and just about any other landmark we had wished to see. We picked out the Christensens’ house over on Snowbird, the place on Country Hollow where the Novaks will be moving in next week, the schools, the playgrounds, the grocery stores. With just a little less haze we’d have had a clear view of Edison Field and, with a little imagination, the Matterhorn over at Mickey’s place.

(A few years ago, I took Bryn—then 5 or 6—up the same hill to watch the fireworks on July 4. Ostensibly we were there to see the annual event at Fred Kelly Stadium, but what we got was truly unexpected: From that spot on the hill, we watched five different shows simultaneously, including the big blow-out at Disneyland, the one at Edison Field, and a couple of smaller shows around the Southland. Very cool.)

Besides the view, today we enjoyed some favorite sights and smells: sage, rosemary, anise, all sprinkled amidst the cactus and mustard flowers there on the hilltop. We saw volcanic rock, the footprints of coyotes, and one truly remarkable phenomenon: almost no evidence of litter or graffiti. Seth, my four-year-old who often goes hiking with his mother Dana at Santiago Oaks a couple of miles east of where we stood, kept remarking: “This is the best hike ever!”

What made it special for Seth, I believe, is that he was out and about with his big brother and sister doing what he usually only gets to do when they are in school. Today, for a change, they were hanging out with him, and as an added bonus (I like to think) Dad was there too. It would have been the whole family had Dana not been feeling ill. At any rate, Seth spoke for all of us when he gushed enthusiastically about our little adventure. We were feeling truly connected—to family, to nature, to our community—and enjoying immensely the chance to see it all—both literally and figuratively—more clearly. The perspective was both enlightening and energizing.

So do yourself a favor. One of these days soon, climb up to the top of that hill and have a look around. I think you’ll be glad you did.

PW