Keep the Wonder

To my children, who are proof that God is love

My dear ones,
you came into this world burning bright,
with the hush of paradise still humming in your ribs.
Don’t let the world smother that glow
with its clocks and traffic and test scores.
Keep the wonder.

Remember how the stars once whispered?
They still do.
Lean your heart to the sky
when the night feels thick and your feet too heavy.
God speaks best in silence,
and the wind still carries secrets
if you’re still enough to hear.

Run into the woods like they’re holy.
They are.
Touch bark like it’s skin from another time,
taste rain,
laugh when thunder shouts,
because Heaven never meant to be far.

Don’t grow too old to weep at beauty.
Don’t trade awe for answers.
There’s a kind of wisdom in wide eyes
and a kind of blindness in certainty.

You’ll hear them say
that wonder is for children.
Smile gently.
They’ve forgotten the face of their Father.

This world is not tame
neither is the One who made it.
He is wild with love,
furious with joy,
uncontainable as light
and near enough to touch.

So stay small enough
to climb into His lap
and bold enough
to walk on water when He calls.

You were not made for beige lives,
for spreadsheets and safety alone.
You were made to name lions,
to chase the sunrise,
to carry the breath of God in your lungs
and blow it gently into dark places.

Wonder is not a game.
It’s a weapon, a shield, a song.
So keep it close.

And when the world tries to make you forget,
remember this:
Your story began in a garden,
and it ends in glory.
Everything in between
is a miracle in motion.

Now go,
live like it.