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Through the Eyes of a Child
Have you ever watched a child draw with paper and crayons? Their
drawings are usually crude and simple – child-like we say. But then a
child perceives the world in a simplistic way. As time passes, we tend
to complicate the way we see life. We look for what we think are the
more important aspects of our surroundings and often look past the
simple beauty of things that a child might notice.
As adults we tend to take for granted many things that surround us and
yet influences us. The Rev. George W. Jones told a story about a young
boy taken to see the 58-foot tall Latin cross that stands as a memorial
atop the mountain at the University of the South, in Sewanee, Tennessee.
The child looked upon the cross with a puzzled expression and asked,
“But where is God? It is empty.” This young boy knew the story of Christ
upon the cross and was accustom to seeing the carved wooden crucifix that
sat on the altar of his small church,
Epiphany Mission, below
in the valley.
But a child’s point of view will be simple and direct. When the fresco
depicting The Lord’s Supper was created at
Holy Trinity Episcopal Church
in Glendale Springs, North Carolina, artist Ben Long painted a
nondescript white object at the top of the fresco that he called the
point of mystery. He left it to the viewer to determine the meaning of
this object. During a visit by a group of 4-H children, the docent asked
the children what they thought the object represented. One young boy,
lying on his back and looking up at the fresco answered without
hesitation: that’s God looking down on us.
A child sees a world full of questions, yet there is no need for
analysis and lengthy answers. They will notice the simple ordinary
things that we overlook. They gaze through eyes full of wonder, and we
sometimes forget “how to see” as Jim Metcalf so eloquently expresses in
this excerpt from his poem The Teacher.
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Candle Light
Vigil
By The Rev. Brian W. Winter
From the ECVA Exhibition
Surprised By Joy |
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Walk slowly, little one
and let me walk beside you,
as you see the wonders
you will see.
And I will try to see them
through your eyes . . .
eyes, still fresh
and beauty seeking;
There is so much
I need to know;
so much I have forgotten.
I remember only
how to look.
I do not remember
how to see.
So let me walk along with you
and share the world you know.
I will be the learner.
You will be the teacher.
Dan Hardison
Editor, The Episcopal Church and Visual Arts
editor@ecva.org |
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ecva.org