No grandparent has ever made such a brazen claim, right? But I can prove it.
Just the other day he assured me that the animal in a book we were looking at was a llama, one of those four-legged creatures that were first domesticated in South America. Here I thought it was just some funny-looking horse, but Owen convinced me otherwise. He even told me it is primarily a pack animal, but it is also used as a source of food, wool, hides, and tallow for candles. Okay, I made that part up, but the book confirmed that we were, in fact, looking at a llama.
See, what did I tell you? So smart.
It wasn’t the first time Owen has taught me something.
As he runs through our house, touching everything in his path, wondering whether it bounces or smells or can roll along like a toy excavating truck (his current favorite), Owen is as much a teacher to me as he is a student.
He shows me the innocence and joy that can be found in a small, simple life — the kind that’s already right in front of me.
In a word, Owen teaches love.
…
I SPEND A LOT of time around troubled people who are hurt, and unfortunately their emotional pain has turned into anger and bitterness. I don’t see blood, but the courtroom can be a messy, messy place.
But when I’m around Owen, I’m reminded he does not know what it means to hate somebody. He has never experienced discrimination or judgmental behavior. He holds no grudges. Instead, he loves all people, especially those who slip him a cookie after dinner.
As another example, there are times when I waste an afternoon worrying about something, thinking somehow that that is going to solve what I am thinking about. But that is negative energy, and it’s useless. I’ve heard it said that worry is a downpayment on a problem that may never happen.
But when I watch Owen, it is obvious he is not worried about anything. He has everything he needs — from the love and attention from the people who surround him, to the clothes for his every occasion, and to the strawberries and a bananas he has for lunch, with a cookie on the side (I wonder who’s feeding him all these cookies?).
Lastly, I was around someone the other day who was hesitant to take on a major task. He had tried it before and it had not turned out well. He wondered if after all of his effort, he might face the same tragic result. He had a fear of failure.
But while Owen might be afraid of loud noises, he is not afraid of failure. That’s because he doesn’t see his inability to do something as a negative event. Instead, it’s just an invitation to do it better next time. Whether it's finding the right word, or trying to fit an oversized Matchbox car into the toy garage, or stumbling while running, Owen just finds another way to get the job done.
Simple as that.
I admire him for that attitude. He needs a reward. The poor kid needs more cookies after dinner.
…
THERE WAS A WISE man who walked the planet two thousand years ago whose birthday we celebrate around this time every year. He never talked about what people needed to do to get to heaven. Instead, he just wanted people to follow his way of living so they could experience a sprinkle of heaven while here on Earth, with eternal heaven thrown in, too.
One day he was hanging with a bunch of guys who were always peppering him with questions, about all sorts of things. Finally one of them wanted to know what it would take to be the greatest among all men.
They did not get the answer they expected.
Greatness had nothing to do with earning the most money or owning the most stuff, Jesus said. It also had nothing to do with fancy diplomas or being the most popular.
Instead, greatness comes from embracing the innocence of a simple life, the same way children do. Live in the moment. Love people. Accept the reality that we are part of something that is far bigger than ourselves.
In other words, turn up "The Elmo Slide."
Dance like Owen.
Class dismissed.