Small Awakenings…

Divided by long, prosaic interludes, life is a series of awakenings. I don’t know about you, but I have had several ”revelations” that have desperately influenced me–dividing my life into two parts: before and after.

Sometimes awakenings have occured because of unexpected happenings; while at other times, the most mundane things have grabbed my attention and changed the course of my life. I always have my antennas up, because life is about change… especially as a believer. 

I had two early childhood awakenings that deeply influenced my course: My first one was at age two or three. I had the mumps. In those days, kids weren’t vaccinated for diphtheria, mumps, or whooping cough. And at that small age, I remember crying to my mother. My swollen jaws ached with extreme pain. To this day, I remember the suffering… My mother told me there was nothing she could do. And I am sure there wasn’t baby aspirin or tylenol like today. I am sure she had done everything she could.

And in the small heart of a child, I understood that I had to comfort myself in my own pain. It was an awakening… and a valuable one at that. I learned to bear pain.

Later in life, when all my friends fell apart when we had to get polio shots at school, I waited in silence and took my shot stoically with the steely strength of an adult. I comforted others who were petrified to have an injection.

It seems almost funny now, but these experiences prepared me for a career in nursing.

My second awakening came at age eight when my grade-school class took a field trip to the Denver Museum of Natural History. I had no idea what that was. All I knew was that it involved riding a bus across town with my classmates instead of going to school. That was great with me! 

When we pulled up, the first thing I saw was swings. My friends and I raced to the playground and enjoyed swinging as high as we could. Those were special swings because they were cemented and wouldn’t come up from the ground like our backyard swing set.

After swinging, we lined up in a single file line and marched like little soldiers into the museum. I didn’t know what to expect when I walked through the huge doors of the dark building, but what I saw took my breath away… a mammothly huge, gigantic, complete skeleton of a brontosaurus or apatasaurus!

I almost had a fainting spell!

I had been fascinated by dinosaurs for many years and never dreamed I would stand in front of one like this… or many… as I did on that day.

Although I was eight, I had the heart of a poet then and began formulating how to describe this feeling and new experience about my first tangible realization that there was a world beyond the four walls of my home, school, and church. The dinosaurs around me proved the existence of that world.

Today I can still remember the awe those ancient bones struck in my heart, the reverence, the explosion of joy and sobriety at once. Not only did my vision of the world grow, but my soul grew three sizes that day. It was a true awakening to the world beyond my intimate childhood rearing.

And I must say that same awe, reverence, wonder, and magic accompanies me when I visit an exhibit of pre-historic skeletons, bones, and fossils to this day.

One thing that makes this awakening especially important and tender is that I recognized that the world was much bigger than my everyday life, but that I must give written expression to what I witnessed. I also felt alone in my experience that day, although I probably wasn’t…

Since then I have had several other kinds of awakenings, each delightful and cherished.. the awakening of new love, of maternal love, of the passing of time, and the importance of history… all important and valuable independently on my journey through life.

And just like the eight-year-old standing with my mouth agape in front of a brontosaurus, today I am still yearning and struggling to birth, in poetry and prose, a record of those things that stir my heart and soul to ponder in reverence, that evoke childhood delight, wonder, and magic.  

I never want to lose that…

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Jeremy says:

    reminds me of one of my favorite songs right now by John Mark McMillan, called skeleton bones:

    Peel back our ribs again
    And stand inside of our chest
    We just want to love you
    We just want to love you yeah

    Peel back the veil of time
    Let us see you with our naked eyes
    We just want to love you
    We just want to love you yeah

    Skeleton bones stand at the sound
    Of eternity on
    The lips of the found
    Grave stones roll
    to the rhythm of the sound of you

    Skeleton bones stand at the sound
    of eternity on
    The lips of the found
    Yeah so separate those doors
    Let the Son of Resurrection in

    Oh let us
    Adore the son of glory
    Dressed in love
    Open up your gates
    Before him
    Crown him
    Stand him up

    it goes on, but reminds me of Ezekiel’s dry bones and your awakening. Our Lord is surely breathing and causing bones to come alive, even today. There is still a world outside your church and home, Bonnie..and you will continue to see dinosaur bones come to life!

  2. Bonnie says:


    First of all, congrats on your scholar award from TCU. You are brainy! And thanks for leaving the poem/song. I love it! Fraught with meaning…

    I look forward to having some time with you and Kami soon. I guess Carol our secretary has set it up…

    Our chat is long overdue…

    Lots of love to the three of you,

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