I work on a high hill above a children’s museum. Parking for the museum is on many terraced levels. (Remember which dinosaur is guarding your car….)
The other day I was traipsing down the many staircases built into the hill to catch the bus that runs home from the museum. I encountered not one, but two, families of children for whom stair-climbing was clearly an extension of the joy of a museum outing. “No, sweetheart, our car isn’t parked any higher — it’s on this level.” (To arrest a boy in flight.) “We get to go up!” (Parents trudging, children springing.)
At the base of the hill, I encountered a colorful, exuberant sister-brother-mother trio who were also waiting for the bus. “How soon does it come?” asked the older child. “Very soon!” I answered, then checked myself. “Adult soon. Not kid soon.” Six minutes, after all, is not the same as 16 seconds.
Once on the bus, I was treated to an invasion of children — the sibling pair sat down across from me, giving their mother little choice but to sit next to me. We were grouped as if at a table — as the kids were quick to point out.
“I wish I could take a nap, but I might miss my stop,” I said. “You could just close your eyes and rest,” the girl said. It was good advice, and I took it.
Once again, comfort from every source. Thank you, Spirit, for sending us one another: to bear tidings of comfort and joy all the year round.