One day, my kid will figure out I don’t really know how to do magic. He will see that the watch I swiftly and erratically move from one hand to the other so close to his face that he has to close his eyes doesn’t disappear but is thrown behind him. He will notice that the crumpled tissue I rub between my hands doesn’t come out of his ear but is hidden in my sleeve. He will one day understand that my magic isn’t really magic and that I’m not very good at illusion after all.
But for now, in all the precious, sincere belief of a boy who just turned five, he believes.
And I love it.
I love that he’s shocked by my magical abilities every single time. I love that his eyes question me for a moment before brightening with awe and curiosity when I show him my empty hands.
He searches around himself and around me for the crumpled tissue that has disappeared. He searches in the most unlikely places, which would take real magic for it to get there. I join him, wondering aloud where it could’ve gone, while taking it out of my sleeve when he isn’t looking. I exclaim with surprise, “Come here! I can see it!” and I pretend to pull it out of his ear. His giggles turn to laughter, like the tinkling of champagne glasses mixed with the summer sun. It’s the sound of pure joy; it’s the sound of delight.
I take in the moment, slow it down, drink it deep, and I wonder how often God does this for us as well. I wonder in what ways He has been trying to delight me, how He has been showing me beauty and wonder, and how often I miss it because I’m not paying attention.
But even though I may not catch it all the time, the truth remains the same: God delights in delighting. He creates a rainbow to shine after a hailstorm that rains down ice like little pearls. He formed dewdrops to curl up on long stems of grass, like a newborn sleeping with its arms and legs tucked under her belly. He designed the way laughter and yawns are contagious, the way flowers bloom in the warmth of the sun, and the way children find slapstick comedy belly-achingly hilarious.
I can feel my eyes soften with love for my son as he relishes my “magic” trick, and it must be a glimpse of how God looks at us when we delight in something He’s made for our pleasure.
God is powerful and sovereign. He is majestic and holy. He is with us and for us and is redeeming all things. And yet He is also the one who came down to make a dwelling among us, born as a baby — a baby who probably cooed and laughed that wonderfully full baby laugh at silly sounds made by His mother. He is the one who told His grown-up disciples to become like children to enter the kingdom of God.
Yes, God wants us to mature and carry the burdens of one another and the world, but in between and among the hard things of this life, He is still wanting us to delight and laugh and find joy — in the way a fresh loaf of bread crackles as you break it open, in the afternoon sunshine laying patterns on the floor, in the swirly mist rising from our morning coffee, in the sarcastic humor of a friend or the clever usage of a meme.
Our joy is His joy, and He wants us to delight in delighting as He does. Slow down, pay attention, and enjoy the magic God does all around us.
What brings laughter or joy in your life?
In between and among the hard things of this life, God is still wanting us to delight and laugh and find joy. -@gracepcho: Click To Tweet