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Where do we come from?

Grandma," my spirited nearly-three-year-old granddaughter exclaimed, "swing me higher!" Naturally, I happily complied with her request, just as I did with all her other simple wishes. After all, she was a delight and the source of immeasurable joy in my life.

On that particular day, she was visiting me all by herself, as was her custom, dictating the course of every minute and hour with her boundless enthusiasm. Upon entering my home, she would eagerly unveil her plans for our entire day, often exclaiming, "Aren't you just so excited that we are going to spend the whole day having adventures together, Grandma?" Indeed, those precious moments she referred to as "adventures" etched themselves deeply into my heart, becoming my cherished treasures.

We found ourselves at a quaint little park near my house, with only four swings, two slides, and a smattering of odds and ends. We occupied one of the two petite swings where you had to gently lift your child and slide their tiny feet in first. A charming little boy swayed to and fro on the swing next to ours.

At one point, he turned to my granddaughter and greeted her with a friendly "Hi." In response, she gazed directly into his eyes and said, "Hi, I am called Amy!" It caught me off guard.

"How peculiar," I pondered, "how peculiar that she said, 'I am called.' I've never heard anyone describe themselves that way." A moment later, it struck me. She was absolutely correct in saying she was called. She had not fully identified herself as a person yet. Like the rest of us who entered this world, she had a name, but unlike most of us, she was acutely aware that she was being called Amy!

In that very instant, I began to wonder who she was and who we all are. I suspected that, at that very moment, she might still remember who she was and where she came from beyond the person who answered to the name Amy.


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