How to Reclaim the Wonder of Childhood
It was a Déjà vu moment. The type that calls out to you—stops you in your tracks—and whispers, “Remember me?” It happened the other day as I walked to my car in my hometown—near a park—where I played as a boy. A memory washed over me like a mist—and halted me. The tree, pictured above, called out to me. I didn’t move. Instead, I paused as the memory engulfed me. Then I heard it again. From across the park—and across the decades—the tree said, “Remember climbing me with your brother Chris, oh so long ago?” It was unmistakable.
I stood there. Frozen. I felt the memory strengthen its grip. Despite being pressed for time, I walked across the park to the base of the tree, to see if this memory would retrieve a fragment of my childhood. It did—transporting me back to my 10-year-old self when I played in this wooded park and climbed this tree with my older brother and friends, Gordy, Chuck, and Jeff.
I even recalled the side I mounted from—as Chris bent over, interlocked his fingers, and gave me a “foot-lock” so I could begin my ascent. Now, as I scanned the height of the tree, I noticed the fork in the branches where I would wedge myself, settle in, and enjoy the view high above an oblivious adult world. Memories came flooding back of the summer heat, my intense childhood thirst, and the long-gone water fountain (known as a “Bubbler”) directly under the tree.
We climbed trees routinely, tight-rope walked across fallen logs above the stream, and challenged each other to “dare-devil” acts, like pole vaulting across the water. (It didn't matter if we didn't make it, being wet, muddy, and smelling “swampy” was an honor—like earning a badge for bravery.)
Footloose and fancy free, we explored every path in the woods, meandered along the railroad tracks above the treeline, traipsed through nearby homes under construction, and rode our bikes to foreign lands. Our only boundary was our imagination. It wasn’t lost on me that this memory—of this tree—was reclaiming the wonder of my childhood.
Now, as I stood under these limbs, I reached for my phone and photographed the branches, noting the changes and similarities that transpired over the years. It rejuvenated my feelings of observing the world from a treetop. It brought me back to my front-row seat to examine a bird’s nest from, well, a bird’s-eye view. From my perch, I remember witnessing the agility of a squirrel as it leaped among the branches, a caterpillar gnawing through a leaf, and how it feels to touch the creepy, crunchy carcass of a cicada.
For a moment, I was ten-years old again. It felt good—not just to be young, but to recall the simple joys of being a boy. What was my greatest challenge then? Climbing down from my sky box.
Walking back to my car, I realized memories are powerful things—and seldom call out to me from this long ago with such intensity and clarity. (Or am I too preoccupied to hear them?) I believe our most treasured childhood memories still reside deep within us, and we can revive them when we “pause more and rush less.”
“Our childhood is composed of memories, sometimes lost forever,
if we fail to summon them—and invite them back into the present.”
Today, I got lucky. I was parked on a street I wasn’t supposed to be on because of a road closure. I didn’t know it at the time, but a detour led me back to my past. (What a blessing.)
When this memory called out to me, I didn’t have time to respond—but I did. And it rewarded me by recapturing a forgotten phase of being a boy—climbing trees.
I admit, I don’t hear memories call out to me often. But when I do, I’m grateful for the power they possess to reclaim the wonder of my childhood. And sometimes, like today, because I heard their voice, and responded, I had the rare chance to live a piece of my childhood—twice.
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SOMETHING TO CHEW ON: Want to reclaim the wonder of your childhood—or recall a defining moment with a sibling, parent, or friend? Why not drive through your old neighborhood? Flip through an old photo album (or your phone). Drive past your high school or your grandparent’s home. Call an old friend. Daydream about your favorite age, your most fun grade in school, or a sacred memory of someone you love or miss.
You can get lucky and have an old memory call out to you, like I did, or you can strive to retrieve it from where you deposited it long ago—your memory bank.
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Most importantly, I found this book’s story line to be very accurate, compelling, and encouraging to anybody who has experienced the personal pain of loss of a loved one and the grief that ultimately follows. I have several close friends who’ve lost their spouses to serious illness in the past couple of years that I think could greatly benefit from reading this book.
In fact, I’m giving them their own copies of this book as gifts because of its optimistic and hope-filled message.”
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Now available on Amazon. YOU CAN READ CHAPTER ONE ONLINE AS A SAMPLE. (Only 6 pages): https://amzn.to/4c1twi8
Also available now on Christianbooks.com. YOU CAN READ CHAPTER ONE ONLINE AS A SAMPLE. (Only 6 pages): https://bit.ly/3V4tWMV
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