A Journey Into the World of Children
There’s something quietly profound about children. Raised under the same roof, spoken to with the same love, nurtured with the same care, they emerge as uniquely hand-crafted masterpieces shaped by God’s creative delight.
Take Mike, for instance. He’s just entering Upper
Kindergarten, but his dreams already soar beyond the clouds. He wants to be a
scientist (to explore the unknown), a Zoom director (to host the world), and a
chef (to serve up tastes no one has imagined). His current passion? Mixing
watermelon juice with passion fruit and a swirl of vanilla ice cream, topped
with a dash of salt and pepper. He calls it his “superpower juice.” It may
sound wild, but in his imaginative experiments, we glimpse vision, joy, and the
beginning of something brilliant.
Then there’s Jude, his three-year-old brother.
While most children bounce from one thing to the next, Jude is a little storm
of focus, steadily completing puzzles, tidying up after play, and helping his
parents with loyalty far beyond his age. He evaluates everything with a simple
thumbs-up or thoughtful thumbs-down. When he struggled to pronounce my name, he
began calling me “Philos uncle,” a name that caught on and warmed our hearts.
One day, eyes searching mine, he asked, “Uncle, are you done with me?” I
still wonder what stirred that question, but it touched something deep.
Their elder sister Lia has grown quieter lately,
perhaps a sign that she’s growing deeper into herself. But her silence carries
a kind of grace. She still shares in every fun moment in her own calm,
beautiful way. She watches, smiles, and joins—never loud, yet never left
behind.
Children mimic, yes—but more than that, they invent. They
callify and pokify the world around them. A mosquito becomes a flying friend, and a
beetle turns into a character. They speak in private rhymes and splash water
like it's an Olympic event. They demand with raw honesty, but then surprise you
with empathy that takes your breath away.
Even a pile of stones becomes a playground of
meaning.
Three River
Days
Our first visit was to a gentle stream, where the
stones were smooth and round, perfectly safe for play. Mike collected a heap of
them, attempting a tower, proud of what he managed. At the end, we carried a
few stones home. The next day, I asked him what we should do differently on our
next river trip. He replied, “We can take these stones back and bring new
ones.” I first assumed it came from a school library idea—but perhaps, just
perhaps, it came from his early thoughts about recycling and renewal. What a
lovely way to care about things as small as stones and as vast as rivers.
Our next trip took us to a waterfall 30 kilometers
away, but summer had thinned it into gentle streams. We were allowed to explore
the natural rock pools carved by rushing waters over time. The children were
delighted. Mike joined me to water some plants nearby, and suddenly exclaimed,
“Uncle, those pipes are entangled!” His observation—loud, clear, and
accurate—was full of delight and discovery.
Our final outing was to yet another river, chosen
entirely because of the children’s ongoing fascination with water. And rightly
so—children love water. So do adults. But as parents and caregivers, we must
remember that water bodies, while beautiful, are also risky. Even environments
that seem safe, like calm streams or rivers with smooth stones, can hide unseen
hazards.
Mike, on the last day, learned this in a way none
of us expected. While getting out of the water, walking on what looked like
soft, rounded stones beneath the surface, he stepped on something sharp. It was
only later in the evening that we noticed a clean but deep cut under his little
toe. A possible broken edge of a stone had done it. The warning was clear: even
in the safest-seeming places, vulnerability is real.
So, let us scout our spots well in advance. Let
us never take for granted the calm face of nature. A puddle, a pool, or even a
bucket of water can turn risky in a moment. Educate children. Train them. And
above all, stay watchful as they play. Let them enjoy—but safely, wisely, and
with guidance.
Children
don’t just live life.
They celebrate it.
They don’t wait for joy—they are joy itself.
And no wonder—Jesus once looked into the eyes of
children and said something eternally powerful:
“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become
like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:3)
Let that settle in.
To follow Jesus is to rediscover wonder.
To kneel low enough to see the world from a child’s view.
To laugh more, imagine wildly, forgive quickly, and believe without
complication.
Welcoming a child is not just an act of
kindness.
It’s a doorway into heaven’s own rhythm.
Let us not rush past them.
Let us listen, learn, and lean into the wisdom of their little hearts.
For in their world of wonder, we just might find our way home.
We’re grateful this precious family of five made
the choice to visit us in Nilambur, exploring this place for the first time.
Thank God for their drop-in. There’s more to discover here, and we hope they’ll
return—with new experiments, fresh laughter, and a continued invitation to joy.
