Imagination

Innocence,
Berry juice on fingers,
Eyes sparkling like silver,
Giggles lilting, tinkling through golden sunshine.
Bare toes scouring dirt for a pebble
Smoother than the one before
While ruffles ripple in a clement breeze.


The heaping scoops of clouds above
Sail across the limitless sky,
And the puff of pink midst the grasses below
Sees nothing of the likes.
Beneath the quivering aspen leaves
She has escaped in solitude where butterflies float
And ants scurry hither thither;
Here she sits, or skips, or strolls,
 oblivious of reality.


Unaware of troubles, heedless of responsibility,
Or of any stress of life,
She only sees among the waving strands of grass
A forest of bamboo with her farm of panda bears.
Or from behind that poplar tree,
 an Indian steps, elaborately beaded 
with clanking chains of bone and teeth.
She serves the friend some rhubarb-tinctured soup,
And shares her plans of shooting moose.
Maybe in that aspen grove is spread a ragged cloth
Decked with clover and tin cans;
It serves just fine as lace would do
For a party with a princess.


Beneath those aspen trees,
Where shadows dance,
Where worms transform to butterflies,
And where mosquitos sing,
She plays amongst the dandelions
That bloom and puff and drift like
Pure imagination.

-Rynelle Penner

I tossed another arm-load of cornstalks into the pasture beside the garden. In the garden, each family member had a task to help clean it out in preparation for winter. Someone ran the tiller, someone slashed the corn with a machete, and others picked tomatoes or hauled boxes of produce to the house. “There’s something in the air that….” I struggled to put my thoughts into words. “Something in me…maybe it’s just that autumn seems to stir my imagination more than other seasons.”

But later, I wondered if it is simply any change of season that causes the extra creativity in my brain. If I look back at my childhood play, most of my favorite memories took place outdoors. And many of those occurred during harvest time. That day in the garden, I longed to be young again.

If only I could step into my imaginary world and play I was Ruth, harvesting the leftover potatoes and corn from the garden.

Or I’d be Laura Ingalls. I’d beg Mom to make me two braids instead of one. Then, donning my bonnet and apron, I’d skip outside to pick saskatoons. Was that a bear hiding behind the bush?

In imaginative play, anything can become anything. The possibilities are endless. Bikes become horses. Playhouses become restaurants, hospitals, and even prisons. Dirt piles become luxurious rooms in a mansion. A fallen tree becomes a deer my big brother hunted and brought to me for butchering. A dry ditch serves as a roaring river or the culvert as a hideout from slave masters.

Back then, I’d absorb myself in the details. I knew the names and ages of everyone in my huge families. Even all my imaginary cows and chickens had names. For a few days, my farm animals all had names of food, like the cats, Macaroni and Pepperoni. I knew the history of the missionary who came to bring me the Gospel when I lived in the jungles of Brazil. Let’s just say I dreamed a lot. And not just in play.

I still dream, but I have learned that reality is still reality and must be faced. Sure, I’d like to pretend I’m a pioneer in the beautiful woods, cooking potatoes over a pile of sticks. But in reality, the potatoes needed to be dug, taken to the garage, and stored properly so we could have mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving. I’d like to imagine myself as a kind-hearted, confident Christian who is changing the world. I picture myself as someone who walks through each day victoriously with the joy of Christ bubbling within me. In reality, I become grouchy. I wrestle with pride, doubts, and fear. Much too often, I miss taking time with God as I ought.

Life is not “but a dream”. There are deadlines to meet, relationships to build, and battles to win. One needs wisdom and lots of courage to face the less ideal parts of life–the times we realize our dreams and ideas aren’t realistic. But even in the boring, exhausting, or disappointing moments of life, God is there. He can create beauty out of it all. Sometimes it requires the dashing of our hopes and dreams in order for us to see the reality of His love and who He wants us to be. And His plans for us aren’t just dreams. No, He will keep His promises and see them fulfilled in us!

Remember how Jesus took special time for children during His ministry? They flocked to Him. They adored Him with simple faith. Their innocence and simplicity is the refreshment this world needs. Life may not be the kind of adventure you anticipated. It may not be as beautiful as you hoped. But among all of life’s responsibilities and decisions, leave a little bit of childish curiosity, imagination, and energy within you . God made us creative, just like He is. He wants us to enjoy His Creation, but most of all, to enjoy Him.

And maybe once in a while, it’s okay to go play Laura Ingalls again. Especially when autumn is here. So see you later.