The Little Ballerina

I had to interrupt a conversation with a friend.
The little girl was just too cute not to pay attention.
It was the little pink tutu that caught my eye.
It was the little pink ballerina leotard that she wore that made me take notice.

She was probably three-years-old.
She was with her mother in the coffeehouse.
She was being a mother’s helper.
She was throwing away their trash.

I watched her go from one end of the long coffeehouse to the other.
She carried a little fragile plate in her hands.
She looked down at the plate the entire time she walked on the hardwood floors.
She was determined that the little fragile plate would not fall on the floor.

She reached the bins where the dirty dishes are placed.
She carefully put her little plate on top of the others.
I saw that she left the napkin and the paper that had been around her muffin on the plate.
She was too little to know that those things get thrown away in the trash first.

I watched her run back to her mother to get another little dish.
She was on a mission.
She took so many steps to get from her table to the bins for the dirty dishes.
I wondered how many steps her little feet travel on any given day?

She was looking down at her little plate, willing it not to fall.
It didn’t fall but I can’t say the same for the muffin.
The remaining pieces of muffin fell onto the hardwood floor.
Without dropping her plate, the little girl bent down to get the muffin.

As I watched, I saw that she actually ate the remaining pieces of muffin right off the floor.
Why waste a good muffin? I imagined her thinking as I giggled.
In her little three-year-old mind, a muffin was delicious whether it was on the plate or not.
She ate every last crumb, unbeknownst to her mother.

She carried her little fragile plate and her napkin to the dish bin and deposited them there.
She was so proud of herself.
The dance of a little child, I thought as I watched the little ballerina return to her mother.
Children are born helpers but sometimes we adults hinder them.

We expect their efforts to equal ours.
We have standards and expect the child to meet them.
If you think of the number of steps between a child and an adult, there is no comparison.
For every one of our steps, a child must take about four steps just to keep up.

I remember walking with my grandfather.
I would try to match his steps.
I could never do it.
His gait was too wide for my little feet.

He would smile at my attempt.
He would actually slow down to accommodate my little girl gait.
You can never power walk with a child.
A child forces you to slow down.

I remember a book I read to my children called, What Joe Saw, by Anna Grossnickle Hines.
Joe moved slowly compared to the other children as the class took a field trip to the park.
Joe moved slowly because he was observing things along the way.
The other children would call out, Slowpoke, Pokey Joe, but still Joe took his time.

He didn’t miss the ants that traveled in a long line on the sidewalk.
He saw things in nature that the others never saw because they rushed right by them.
He found something in the grass that the others, including the teacher, were amazed to see.
Joe walked around aware of his surroundings.

I want to see the world through the eyes of a child.
I want to take the time to notice the things around me.
I want to slow down my steps to keep up with a child’s wonder.
I want to appreciate pink ballerina leotards and tutus.

 People were also bringing babies to Jesus for him to place his hands on them. When the disciples saw this, they rebuked them. But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it. (Luke 18:15-17)

I imagine Jesus slowing His pace to walk alongside the children.
I imagine Jesus smiling at the way the children saw the world.
I imagine Jesus delighted in the pure joy the children had over His creation.
I imagine Jesus preferring the innocence of children to the legalism of the adults.

We can learn a thing or two from a child.
They see the world so uniquely.
There is no pretense.
There is sheer wonder in the little things.

I want to wonder like a child.
I want to go at a child’s pace so I don’t miss anything.
I want to forget about the five second rule and grab that piece of muffin off the floor.
I want to hold whatever is in my hands with the utmost care and attention.

Thank you, little ballerina.
Your innocence and joy was like a beam of sunlight in the minutes I watched you.
Dance on, little one.
Dance on.

 

2 responses to “The Little Ballerina”

1. I so enjoy watching my almost 2 year old granddaughter learn new things. Our Father in heaven surely enjoys the spiritual lessons we learn also as He refines us, don’t you think?

   Reply

   • Absolutely, Paula.
     We are His children after all.
     We can learn much from a child’s innocence and pure joy.
     Gina

     Reply