When I was a child,

I spoke like a child,
thought like a child,
my God, I was a child;
But then I became a man,
and I put away childish things
and lost myself.

What was so great about becoming a man that St Paul felt he had to write so fabulously about it? Did he not realise that the greatness of a child was the reason to write what he wrote backwards? Clearly not.

I mean, look back why don’t you. When did you last see the sky so big that it took your breath away and you realised you could dance and sing all night and it still not be enough, and that you would shout for ever, and it still not hurt your lungs? I tell you when. You were a glorious, beautiful child of God. That was when.

Soon enough you would grow up and rather than becoming wise beyond your years, you would become crippled with thought of self and grandeur and your body begin to waste away just as quickly as your mind. As a child you ruled the earth. As a man you stopped believing at all.

In Blipland those of you who follow me will know I follow the trees. Their unending flow and gracefulness reminds me that all that is childish in my life is one big huge connection to my childlike self and with that thought I can truly live. What hope do I have save this one shot of grace? That all I have was gifted to me by my mother in the pain of childbirth and that the truth of this one moment is shot enough to give me a life to lead with hope, amazement, freedom and grace.

When I was man I spoke as a child,
thought like a child,
my God I am a child.
A child of God.
My mothers child.

This is enough.

Happy weekend bloggers.

Radiohead.
King of Limbs.
Codex.

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