My three-year-old granddaughter Elizabeth pushed the button on the Tinkerbelle
music box. The music started to play. “Poppa-Mike! Watch my Dancey-Dance, Poppa!”
“Ok, Elizabeth. Do your Dancey-Dance.” I chuckled as she began spinning and
prancing around the patio.
“Why you laughing, Poppa?”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing. I was just smiling at how elegant your dancing is.”
It was a little white lie. “Do some more.”
“OK, Poppa-Mike.” She pushed the button again and danced.
I watched her and just smiled this time. She sang, danced, stopped with her bum
stuck out, spun and danced again. The music stopped. She pushed the button again.
I watched, clapped and remembered her first tiny steps. It had only been two years
since she took them. Now look at her; full of energy, dancing, running. What a joyful ball
of energy she is.
Those first steps were the first of many that will carry her through life. My own
steps have taken me through lots of changes, many of them scary and full of uncertainty.
Each move to a new city was, in its own way, a first step.
Elizabeth hit the button again. The music played loudly. I made a mental note to
remove the battery when she wasn’t looking. This time I watched her feet – so tiny.
Elizabeth, where will those little feet take you? What wonders, joys and sorrows will you
experience on your journey?
I envy her. She has the whole journey to experience. I’m more than half way
through my journey. Each step has more meaning. I don’t know when the last one will
come, so I make sure every step I take counts.
If tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life, then the next step I take is the
first one on my journey through the rest of life. Every step is a decision. Every step in is
Michael T. Smith