The Magical Movement of Mr. Walker

I saw magic a couple of weeks ago. It was beautiful. It made me actually shake my head in awe. It made look around to call my husband over to see, even though he wasn't home yet.

I sat down with my laptop, logged in to Facebook and got ready to do my daily perusal of friends' status updates, cleverly captioned photos and mildly inspiring videos. I was expecting to be distracted from whatever I was supposed to be doing, and I was hoping to be amused. But I wasn't expecting to be confronted with magic. It went something like this:

I see a video. A close friend has posted it, and it is called 'Mr. Walker!' Sounds promising (an exclamation marks always helps). And I love her posts about her son, Baby D, the firstborn within our intimate friend group from high school.

I scroll over that familiar right-facing arrow and click; the slightly pixilated home-video flicks to life. A  round little face comes into focus a few feet from the camera, blond hair whisping, smiling eyes looking beyond me, looking at the Great Wielder of the iphone. The little boy sways back and forth for an instant, rocking against his dad who's kneeling behind him. His hands are scrunched in little excited fists, and he is held up by his dad's hands wrapped around his yellow-shirted tummy.

The camera goggles, the thirteen month old flexes his knees up and down, and his dad whispers "Go see mommy!"

All this I take in within a mere two seconds. There is no further warning. I am not prepared for what will happen:

Baby D leans towards us, even before his dad has let his hands gently fall from the chubby belly. Baby D bobs. His arms are stretched up, fingers grabbing air. He steps. He is released. And he walks.

I am completely and utterly taken aback. My own delighted laughter dances with the sounds of the moment. The thwump sound as he lands on his bum after three steps. (And he doesn't even seem to notice his dad lifting him up again, just begins again with that focused, excited trot towards the camera as soon as he finds himself back on his feet). The sound of his mom bursting out "Come see mamma!" in musical, rising tones and "Woohoo you made it!". The sounds of flump, flump, flump, of baggy little pant legs shuffling back and forth against each other.

How can I describe this? Here is the little boy I first saw only just over a year ago, a tiny, red, delicate little ball of preciousness, newborn. So fragile. So helpless. And here is the little boy who I've held, who I've listened to gurgling or crying, who I've had pee on my jeans, who I've helped bundle up into the carrier on his mom's back. He's grown and changed so much. Of course, babies grow. But this? I wasn't expecting it to be like this. Here he is - bumbling and bouncing and bounding on his own two feet. Walking. Reaching the camera.

And then his mom turns him around, saying "Go see daddy!", and he walks back to his daddy with that zestful bend of newly found knees. And then he thwumps down on the ground and the adult arms reach in and pull him up again. And so, back to mommy as he takes another step all by himself. 
 

And it is magic, just magic, and I'm in total wonder at it.

I don't think I'm alone in this experience, in this realization of the wonder that is present within the very normal and the very human. I'm embarrassed at my failure to expect it (although in this case, it's a pleasant failure). For there are moments when I am too numb to recognize the magic. Too familiarized to notice the Divine's artistry. Too busy to see and rejoice. Or just too tired (albeit sometimes legitimately so) to wonder.

Please - splash the cold water of your comments over me, share your experiences of magic in the everyday, so that we can wake up to the magic that God has woven into the universe.