Pendulumic

My be-denimed legs pumped, pushing the fragile night air out and away, back to the sky from whence God breathed.  I hung back in the swing, considering the coldness of the chain links beneath my clenched fingers.  It was Sunday night, and I was spending a few moments in prayer on a playground.

Jonathan and I had walked from our house to the little park around the corner.  It is a small park which includes the round-edged, plastic equipment which now dominates the majority of playgrounds in America (since someone somewhere decided metal slides and tire swings were dangerous).

I slid down the fireman's pole like a pro.  At one point in my life, I was a "pole-topper."  Not only were we required to drag our lithe, boney bodies up twenty-foot poles in P.E. class, but my dad required the same feat (faster) from my brothers and me on a weekly basis.  I loved locking my ankles around the pole and feeling the twinge of nerve pressed against my shin bone as I propelled myself up.  With each tug I became stronger.  It gave me strength.  It gave me pride.

Those poles can no longer be found on elementary school campuses.  Children today, battling obesity and, what I believe to be worse and perhaps the origin of the former, a pandemic of lethargy, are the poorer for it.

But the swings remain.

Swinging is an extraordinary pastime.  As a child, I used it as a way to burn excess energy before the end of recess, or to compete with my peers to discover who could fly highest.  But as an adult, I find that five minutes on the swings is simply soothing.  It encourages meditation with each pendulumic movement.  I ask a question on my way up and find my answer on the way down.  It is the rhythm of my heart, my mind.  A pulse.

My prayers take on the form a chant in my head.  Thankfulness.  Confession.  Thoughtfulness.  Requests.  Amen. 

I have many dreams.  Some I have related here in past posts.  Some I keep locked away in a secret spot in my brain.  Some I am still deciphering, trying to make sense of thoughts that seem to be way beyond my talents, way beyond my maturity level.  But even as I rise to the daily challenges of adult life, climbing the poles set before me in my career, my marriage, my walk with God, I discover that the most peaceful times are those spent like a child.  It is why I still watch old, innocent, black & white films.  Why Jon and I run off to Disneyland whenever possible.  Why I drink Capri Sun.  Why I don't mind when my brothers (and no one else) call me "Aud."

It is why I occasionally visit the local park at twilight and run headlong for the swings.