What’s Your Super Power?

Have you ever noticed that children have special eyesight? It’s some kind of super power babies have inherently at birth, buried beneath their smell of baby powder and sound of cooing. When they grow into toddlers, they can see things completely invisible to adults, and then as teenagers, they have a slight setback of multiple blindspots mingled with tunnel vision. It’s a strange, but temporary affliction, that time and life will heal into 20/20 vision once they begin to see through the educating lens of hindsight.

To prove my point, just hold a baby up close and notice the laser point accuracy they have as they grab the perfect amount of hair that hurts most when yanked. In a flash, they can remove and toss your glasses, break necklaces, or tear out an earring. Then when they become toddlers, they find and eat things you never see; like dust bunnies, bathroom hair, paper scraps, the dog’s food and year-old chewing gum ground black in the parking lot.

But when they become little children, they run through the yard with stick swords to kill tree dragons, swing butterfly nets to catch birds, use stuffed animals to imprison garden flowers, and bend low to watch ants work while picking blades of grass to feed captured bugs and worms.

They see things we trample over every day. They stare in wonder at things we yawn at or ignore. They see animals and creatures in the clouds we live underneath and complain about. This poem was birthed from thinking about the power and beauty of childlike vision.

His eyes looked over the weed-covered field,

With greens and golds and neglected brush hills.

With the wrong kind of shoes and very nice pants,

He leaped out the car with a twinkle-eyed glance.

“Be back in one second!” he yelled as he ran,

“Where are you going? Get back here young man!”

His little form hopped, just his head in mom’s view,

“This boy wears me thin, now what did he do?”

She got out of the car and knew they’d be late,

He never slows down until its past eight.

Then a breathless and dirty small form reappeared,

His brown eyes so happy, a smile full of cheer.

And just as she started to scold the young lad,

Address his behavior yet not get too mad,

He thrust out his hand and then did she see,

A fist full of flowers he’d seen in the weeds.

To see like a child, a way we can bless,

Jump out our cars, no matter our dress.

To run with compassion, forgiveness and grace,

Then thrust out our gifts with love on our face.