St. Matthew 18:3

As long as I can remember, I have always loved to write. I love to write for the same reason people enjoy thinking, dancing, or dabbling in clay; they’re all meaningful forms of expression worth experimentation. The best and most valuable forms of expression are void of limits and barriers, walls and restrictions. We should be able to write what we want, think what we feel, dance how we please, and sculpt what we see; meanwhile, finding great joy in those emotional outlets. No one has to intervene in order for that pleasurable process to take place. We possess the ability, power, and desire to express ourselves; and I think we all both want and need our expressions to be understood and valued. With proper training, our ability to effectively communicate our emotions can become more refined, and therefore, more beautiful to the eye who appreciates this trained “expression”, as opposed to the untrained “expression.” We create standards of excellence in our minds, and these standards apply to all walks of life. These standards are not in and of themselves hazardous, in fact, they are a necessary component of life, but unfortunately, they can become misleading metrics of measurement when our “standards of excellence” become flawed or diluted due to the effects of cultural, secular, and societal influences. When this happens, we consciously, or subconsciously, accept one set of variables to be “excellent” while eliminating the possibility of variables outside our realm of “excellence” the chance of being valued at equal worth. When this happens, our paradigm of gauging excellence becomes claustrophobically constrictive.

Life has its way of placing us in boxes; it tries to impress upon every moldable mind what is, and what is not, “excellent.” Consider the mind of the child: innocent, untrained, pure, uninfiltrated by the philosophies of men. To this child, there is no reason why his dreams cannot come true, nor is there any reason why what he deems “excellent” should be anything but “excellent”; he sees no barriers and he knows no borders. In due time, what happens? The world trains him; it invades his visions, influences his dreams, and manipulates his feelings. He becomes…trained. What is the value of this training? Does he need it? Does he want it? Can he afford it?

I’m sure there are many reasons why God wants us to be like little children. I’m still trying to figure out what all of those reasons are. No matter how safe you think your harbor is, the “surfs of secularism” can wash any shore, and when that happens, that child within us all fades away.

Those whose hearts are pure and child-like bring new vision and life into this world; they are lighthouses to lost mariners, candles in an ever darkening world, candles that should never be dimmed. When such souls enter our lives, we hold them dear, and we hold them tight. Some of them stay, and some of them go. After all, not all “birds aren't meant to be caged, their feathers are just too bright.” Our lives are built, and our characters are crafted, by each soul who makes their way into ours. I just hope that we can all find the time to treasure each and every child-like friend who enters our life, for in the end, we’ll see with crystal-clear clarity that it was they who left the bright “brushstrokes on the canvas of our souls.”