When walking with the preschoolers I have a trick for keeping them from running ahead. Not because I frown on running but because I'm less spry than I once was.

"Wiggle your hands and your shadow will too!" They stare at the gray blob following beside them, and ponder the relationship between their limbs and the movement of the blob. Or maybe not. Anyway they don't run. Contemplation and speed are mutually exclusive in three year olds. 

The other day my daughter  looked at her own shadow and sighed.

"Isn't it sad that sunlight can travel millions of miles to get here, and at the last millisecond be blocked from reaching the earth because I am in the way?" 

I had never thought of it. Perhaps the rays are disappointed. It is a long way to come to reach the daffodils, who by the way are eager for the warmth. 

Peter Pan had a shadow capable of feelings. Maybe the light is too. Certainly Tinkerbell had opinions. Strong ones. Especially considering how small she was. 

The sun is a handy analogy for God. His love comes pouring down without pause, regardless of our ability to deserve it. If such a thing were possible. But I can get in the way of His blessings. When I criticize John or my kids, it obscures the love God has for them, and in that instant they fall for the shady lie that they are not cherished. Which is a warmth they are eager for.