Complete Presence

The other day, through the demanding wizardry of Google photos, I saw a picture of my grandson a year ago, when he was seven months old. I was surprised at how much like a baby he looked. And I remembered that at the time the photo was taken, though of course I knew he was a baby, I did think of him as a baby. He was just Isaiah to me. I mean, I knew that he was little and rather incompetent in a number of areas, but being with him, I was most aware of the fullness of his presence as he engaged in his endless explorations of life. 100% alive.

Now that he’s definitely a toddler—running around, digging in whatever dirt he can find, learning new words daily, (yesterday ‘duck’ replaced ‘gaga’ as the referent to the white aquatic bird that says ‘quack’) and almost always sporting at least one band-aid on his knees as evidence of his exuberance—I feel the same completeness about him. To me, he is definitely not some smaller version of who he will become. He is fully himself.

Of course, I’m thrilled and amazed by his ongoing learning. Being with him (and with any young human being) is to witness the capacity of us human beings to grow into a physical and symbolic world of extraordinary complexity. I could sit for hours and watch him play with his three wooden wheeled ‘trains’. They travel as a set and each one explores the edges of his environment. Going back and forth, they slowly then quickly traverse the various transition points in the room: where one carpet meets the other, from the arm of the couch to the floor, the corner of where the flat top of a table becomes the vertical side. Over and over, with great absorption, he studies the problem. And I journey along with him—wondering what is going on in his mind, seeing his incremental improvement in motor skills and understanding and marveling at his delight in the ever-expanding world in which he finds himself.

Every new skill, new word, new behavior meets with great delight from his ‘Baba’. (That’s my semi-made-up name for Granddad.) I’m reminded of a city-wide task force on enhancing resilience in young people that I was part of many years ago. One of the directors of a large youth-serving non-profit summed up the current research on what young people need for healthy development when he said: ‘Every child needs someone who thinks they are the greatest thing since Moby Dick.’ Well, I am certain that Isaiah fits into this category.

We human beings seem to grow and learn best when we are fully appreciated right where we are. The point is not who young people will become when they grow up. I suspect that this applies to grown-ups as well as to knee-huggers. Though we may wish our colleagues, bosses, students and partners were a little wiser and more mature, the best way to support their natural learning and growth is to appreciate them right where they are. So I try to learn from my time with my grandson to delight in the world as it is and to treasure whatever and whoever is right in front of me.

Learning and growing are the nature of being alive. Other than paying attention, very little extra effort is required. Something is always happening and we don’t even have to know what it is. Isaiah has no awareness of the position of being ‘a toddler’. He doesn’t need to and can’t possibly know (nor can I) what will happen next. He is already fully competent to be present in his life. Like all of us, he needs a little help with some of the aspects of life he hasn’t yet mastered. But like all of us, he lives his full life in each moment. My job is not to help him grow up, but to meet and support and delight in him right where he is.

Mission accomplished!