My youngest daughter turned one not long ago, and is just learning to engage with books. Her favorite, for a phase, was Pat the Bunny. What always gets me is that her favorite part isn’t any one particular page, or completing all the little touchy-feely tasks. I don’t even have to open the book or turn the pages in order for her to giggle and enjoy it. For her, it has nothing to do with reading a book.
No, her favorite part is picking out the book, bringing it to me, and sitting in my lap. What she wants is to use the book as a way of connecting. She wants to be near me, to listen to my voice, to play, to engage, to relate. She understands it’s the book that gets us started. Who cares if we reach the end?
I throw myself at this child’s feet, because she teaches me such obvious lessons. If only I would do the same thing to the people in my life, and to God… to sit in the presence; to enjoy and be, with the same sense of timeless bliss.