The Peace of Wild Children
On Sunday afternoon I sat on a park bench and watched my granddaughter on the swings. My son-in-law was pushing her, doing “underdogs.” I was worried about many things in this world, and yet something here was lightening my soul.
Next to Novalie in the baby swing was a toddler being pushed by his father. The boy tipped his head back, his hair flaming like wheat in the sun. He shrieked for all the butterflies in his tummy and the joy of being so close to flight and fall—all in the safety of his loving father’s presence. The boy yelped and, out of deference to all of us, the father shushed him. I wanted to say, Oh, let him shriek and yelp, please. He’s sweeping us all into his wild joy.
That moment of peace in the midst of anxiety took me back to my favorite Wendell Berry poem, “The Peace of Wild Things.” There’s something so plain and redemptive about his simple vision for life in this world.
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
Right then I could say, “I come into the peace of wild children.” Wild, I mean, in that kids are primitive, untamed, too innocent to be ashamed. Not to romanticize children—everyone knows they’re the best argument for original sin. But the “little ones” whom Jesus holds up for our emulation can pull us into their wholehearted world of openness, trust, and the shrieks and yelps of this precious moment.
Sitting next to me on the park bench was my grandson. At nine, almost ten, Dashiell is old enough to fall on a skateboard, deeply bruise his body and break his wrist. On top of it all, he had strep. Dashiell watched quietly, his arm in a brace. It was Sunday, the sun was setting, and he would soon go home. He laid his head against my chest and said, “I don’t want the weekend to end, Papa. I love you.”
For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
***
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Thanks for reading, commenting, and sharing these reflections with friends and family.
Beautifully prescribed, David, and much needed!
Thanks, Sandy
David, I think this is my favorite of your writings. First of all I can’t believe your grandson is almost 10. When he put his head on your chest and said, “ I love you” I burst out in tears. Thank you for bringing so much love into my morning.
I know you’ve had similar moments, Gloria.
David, quite apart from the truth you tell, there’s the telling of it. On you, Wendell Berry ain’t got nothing. at. all.
————
Next to Novalie
in the baby swing
was a toddler being
pushed by his father.
The boy tipped his head back,
his hair flaming
like wheat in the sun.
He shrieked for all
the butterflies in his tummy
and the joy of being
so close to flight and fall—all
in the safety
of his loving father’s presence.
The boy yelped and, out
of deference to all of us,
the father shushed him.
I wanted to say, Oh,
let him shriek and yelp,
please. He’s
sweeping us all
into his wild joy.
Well, it takes a poet to see how a line of prose could be re-arranged into a new shape. Thanks— I enjoyed reading the same words…just in a different form.
Mary Oliver has the same effect for me…thanks, David!
Me too. Her words take me into “the peace of wild things” for sure.
The health benefits of a 54 year old man coming home to his 3 year old barrel of laughs daughter are endless!
I’m smiling, ear to ear.
Loved the story & the poem.It reminded me of a time many years ago when I was visiting my daughter Penny & her family. I was playing with my grandchildren Ella(7) and Matthew(4).Suddenly Matt looked up at his sister and said”oh Ella, don’t You just love it when SuSu comes to visit?”For a moment my time stopped and I saw God’s love in the face of my grandson.Some memories may-or may not – become cloudy with age, but moments like mine with Matt & yours with Dashiell are written in our hearts never to be forgotten! Oh David, don ‘t you just love it when the grandchildren come and visit?
There are many everyday miracles in this world. Perhaps the most blessed for me to recognize are children – especially our grandchildren. And, in my case, my great-grand children.
I think they remind us to be just in the moment.
Thank you, David. I needed this and plan on rereading it often as a way to center my soul. I rolled out cookies next to Pam yesterday and she mentioned this week was a good one – how correct she was. Peace.
Ah, so lovely. And your grandson leaning against your chest. The world.
Jusy got to this this Sunday morning. Wow, did I ever need this. Thank you David, I don’t generally comment or post, but I never miss this blog. Brings me some peace.
Glad you’re finding some peace in these reflections—that’s the hope!