This I Believe

Marty - Greenville, South Carolina
Entered on June 26, 2007
Age Group: 30 - 50
Themes: children
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There is nothing more beautiful than the sound of a child laughing. I believe it is one of the few sounds heard on this earth that permeates the floor of heaven. It is the gauge God uses to measure the progress of mankind. So while we are monitoring our material barometers of wealth and power, God waits patiently for the graceful gurgle of happy children to seep through earth’s crust, and his minions of Angels work feverishly to restore favor to this sad symphony of ours which sounds a familiar drone of forced movement confined to man’s shallow canal banks.

Who better to teach us how to live than the child uncontaminated by the urgency of life, the fallibility of speech, and the gradual loss of hearing exchanged for fabricated sound bytes.

When a child laughs, eons of time converge for a moment of joy, and life becomes worthwhile. When a child laughs, we should pause our counting, and our hoarding and our assessing, because paradise has creaked its door to remind the soul of why we toil. When a child laughs, a prayer is being answered somewhere on someone’s behalf and God’s steward of this good deed is celebrating.

I myself am grateful to one such little laughing soul who has taught me the importance of being silly, and that time is an anchor and not a sailing ship when we are taking things apart and putting them together again. The cheek does not always invite the kiss but is grateful nonetheless. And the best way to say I love you is to throw it out there like a stick in a stream not looking for permission and not waiting for a response.

As a man who has long contemplated fatherhood, I am always enamored by the ease of a child’s gait in the saddle of life, and how the spontaneous outburst of still growing lungs can unhitch the wagon of worry that trudges in our shadow.

Maybe one day, I will sit in the wake of my own son’s streaming smile and if that is not possible, then I will gladly eavesdrop wherever these little voices in the early beat of phonetic flight gather to rehearse their song of eternal laughter.