This month I have had the fun of singing with small children. Last week it was with a flock of cuties that signed up for camp. I only knew a few of them.
They joined in on the alphabet song, and The Wheels on the Bus, and followed my hand motions for A Wise Man Built His House Upon a Rock. But there were other tunes they did not know.
The song "I Like"celebrates each child for a single verse, and depends on me knowing their names, which mostly I did not. The teachers helped me out, and we gave each child a chance in the spotlight.
Each darling girl and boy looked up with their tousled hair and bright eyes, anticipating the moment when I would proclaim that I liked them.
They believed me.
I was astonished at the ease with which they opened their hearts. Such a marvelous exchange it is, to both offer and soak in a declaration of affection. I felt as if I were offering each of them a delicious cupcake, except that there was no sugar spike.
At what point to the doors for such reciprocity creak shut? I don't understand why it slumps out of the realm of possibility that someone we have never met cares for us. I did care for them, even without a back story. Just seeing their butterfly shirt, or the enthusiasm with which they clapped in "If You're Happy and You Know it Clap Your Hands" was enough, more than enough to feel tenderness.
It is my hope that even if when their mothers pick them up and ask how camp was they cannot express it, that they are assured that a lady with a guitar likes them.
