‘An old nose’

A recent weekend was exhausting, delightful, enlightening, hilarious, touching . . . and exhausting.

The stars lined up in such a way that we kept our youngest grandchild, seven-year-old Jaxon, here for the weekend. Usually when he’s here, he is accompanied by his two older brothers, but they were busy doing other things.

“Excitedly” is the operative word for the weekend. How that much energy, impishness and creativity can be packed into Jaxon’s wiry frame astounds me. I now have a greater understanding of the weariness that I see on his parents’ faces.

A saying learned from parents, translated from Low German, suggests that someone who assumes they know all manner of things is referred to as “an old nose.” It’s a teasing, light-hearted term. It’s been used to describe Jaxon a time or two.

When we picked up Jaxon, it seemed good to head to the Saskatoon Family Fun Expo. Once there, the huge crowds were a bit overwhelming until we found the bouncy castle. Each circuit he stripped off another layer of clothing and tossed it to me. Still his face grew redder and sweatier.

Every time he slid down the chute that marked the exit, he made quick eye contact to assure himself that opa was still present and in he charged again. To see our beautiful fair-haired boy in this massive crush of children of every hue and ethnicity was touching and delightful.

To help Jaxon pass time at a restaurant a little later, I gave him my phone to play with, and he quickly found his way to the Kijiji site, and started his teasing about the green tractors that he loves, and the red ones that I am historically connected with. That’s been ongoing since he was three.

When we finally arrived at our home, Jaxon defined to us which bags we would carry into the house, and which he would drag in. He chose the toys. A farm was created, with several yards placed in different rooms. He pointed out to me, only a little condescendingly, that he had brought one red tractor among many green ones. We struggle a little to communicate. I need to read lips, while Jaxon’s lips move an average of a metre between words.

The teachings of Jesus make it clear that there are important spiritual learnings to be gleaned from children. I try to hold that in the back of my consciousness as I relate to this vortex of energy. There is a freshness, a trust, an honesty that knows no bounds in a young one raised in a good place. There is courage to explore new experiences, to offer outrageous observations, to insert wisdom untainted by historical agenda. If you aren’t comfortable with honesty, better not spend time with this boy!

I sit at my laptop, writing a column. Jaxon asks what I’m doing, then gets excited. He’s sure he can write stories for money as well. And when he sits at the keyboard, his two-second attention span stretches to 45 minutes.

There is wisdom, certainly, in the call to “become like children.” In the innocence there are gifts of truth, energy, creativity and trust. These gifts are connected to children being raised in a community of care, of affirmation. I have responsibilities here. It is almost frightening what the sponges in those small brains do soak in. But it’s a good fright, a fright that encourages us to live openly and honestly. I wonder how this old opa can take on some of those qualities that Jesus suggests are key to living faithfully. Those qualities appear to include energy, hope, joy and, just perhaps, a little mischief.

Ed Olfert (p2peho@gmail.com) ponders becoming like a child.

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Welding a Mennonite reality
‘Stella makes a difference’
‘Bring your best self’