The Chase

This is the third time in the past hour. She wasn't looking for it, but she spotted it out of the corner of her eye, and immediately she dropped what she was doing and began the pursuit. With one arm stretched out in front of her and laughs that somehow only a four-year-old can make she weaves through trees and bushes, straining to reach the fluttering wings that are always just out of reach. When she falls, she winces for only a moment, then quickly jumps to her feet and resumes the chase. After it flies into the street or over the fence, she comes back, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear.

She says things like, "It was just a little too fast for me, huh?" or "It was too high for me to reach, wasn't it?" or "I was getting closer and closer to it, wasn't I?" One time I asked her, "What would you do with it if you had caught it?" Long pause. She said she'd put it in her room for people to see because it was so beautiful. It was obvious she had never thought of it like that before. She had never planned on actually catching it.

I go about my business, and there goes a butterfly. I focus harder. Another one. Oh, I didn't even notice that one. Again. Maybe next time.

OR

I go about my business, and there goes a butterfly. I watch it, wishing I would chase it like I used to. But I know I won't catch it. I never did catch one. So I watch it. I admire it, but only from a distance. It's not my butterfly to chase.

OR

I go about my buisness, and there goes a butterfly. I drop it all, and throw my whole being into the pursuit. Almost! I reach again. Not quite. Just...too...high. Frustrated, I jump for it, and when I come down empty-handed, I land wrong and fall. And stay. And cry. I failed.

What made us stop pursuing the things we know we can't catch? When did we start finding the chase worthless if our hands never actually hold the "butterflies"? How did we forget that the running and jumping and reaching were just as much a part of the chase as the display of the catch?

She's making another birthday party in the sandbox. Here comes one more pair of dizzy white wings. The birthday party gets put on hold. She's off.

Feeling less than Spirit-filled
I wish that I was healing from this deadly ill
that some call growing old.
Where's the love? Where's the chase?
Where's the wild leap of faith?
I wanted to be free. I wanted to be loved.
I wanted to be heard. I wanted to be Yours.
I wanted just to play with everything that's pure,
but everyone just said, "that's childlike."

BRAD BREWER - CHILDLIKE

"Live more playfully; believe more recklessly." ~C.J. Goellar