Sam always felt happy when he was in a wild place among wild creatures. Sitting on his log, watching the swans, he had the same good feeling some people get when they are sitting in church. (from The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White)
Pulling over by the side of the road because the West Texas sunset is too beautiful to miss. Laying in the cool grass to look up at a sky full of stars, and singing a Rich Mullins song of praise. Pushing a stroller in the spring breeze, singing What A Wonderful World and smelling the scent of many blooms in the air. The first shock of cold ocean water that sends goosebumps in waves over my skin. Squinting into the sun to see just how tall a tree can be. And sitting in church when all of the wonderful new songs are forgotten in the heartfelt singing of an old one that everybody knows, but nobody knows like we do: Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saves a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.
Oh, how I hope my son can enjoy all of this and more. Creation. Music. The heartbeat of life beneath the mere living of it. I love to see him beginning to enjoy nature, to watch him run his dimpled fingers through the grass and imitate the sound of a barking dog. And I love to hear him “singing” in church when we sing. It gives me that same good feeling.