Originally published at crisis magazine
“Unless you become as one of these little children,” Jesus said to His disciples, who had notions of greatness in the world they thought the Lord would usher in, “you shall not enter the kingdom of heaven.”
I do not wish to read that verse figuratively. That is easy to do—and too easy for us now, who need desperately to be near children, for the sake of our humanity and our salvation.
But first, when I think of my own childhood and youth, it occurs to me that my happiest hours were rarely spent indoors, certainly not in school, nor even at home in front of the television with the rest of my family, though sometimes, with popcorn, we did enjoy a show or a movie together.
Orthodox. Faithful. Free.
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I am riding a sled down a long and steep hill in the park, while night falls, just before suppertime.
I am picking blueberries with my father and the family dog, a collie, whose rustling about would scare away any copperheads. It is the bald top of a mountain where the army has stationed a signal house. We pick
