Playgrounds and Poop

Of course I sent Meg the pictures of Ezekiel on the slide. Not the picture of the poo he picked up. Nor the excessive amounts of hand sanitizer I poured on his hands. 

Phoebe had piano practice at another church in Kearney. While she practiced I took the little ones to the playground. They were jumping with excitement. As Darcy scrambled up and I helped Ezekiel, I pondered the playground. The equipment seemed nice, but everything else screamed run down. The area was overgrown with weeds. The wood chips were returning to the ground from which they grew. While the little kid equipment was a walkable mixture, the bigger kid area was completely mud. My first thought was the church didn’t care about their kids. Or maybe the church had financial troubles. (And these judgments formed before the mammoth droppings.)

But the kids had a blast and when Phoebe’s practice was done she joined the fun. Afterward she asked if we could play every week after piano. Through my children’s eyes the weeds weren’t visible in the brilliance of playground’s glory!

I want to have a combination of these views in every part of my life. I certainly don’t want to miss the poo, but I also want to notice with wonder and delight, “Monkey Bars!”

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