Poet David Whyte wrote, “remember how as a child your arms could rise and your palms turn out to bless the world?"
Two year old Skylar is helping me remember as he delights in the dancing shadows that are created by the tree branches and afternoon sunlight on his bedroom wall. He helps me remember as we gather smooth rocks, each one a treasure, and then solemnly let them go. As we watch them tumble over the dam, the force of the water mists our faces when we lean close enough over the edge. I am reminded as we huddle in a blanket on the porch swing, shivering at the sound of thunder, and gasping as the lightening flashes against the darkening sky. I am reminded as we roll down the hill and rest at the bottom, gazing up together at the clouds, his little hand in mine. He has helped me gather up so much that I had allowed to scatter and because of this tiny little boy, my arms rise up and palms turn outward now to bless the world over and over again.