I think it might have been fair to describe me as a child who had his head in the clouds. I was always looking up. I tried to identify every airplane that took of from or landed at our small town airport. I knew all of my father’s airplanes not only by sight, but also by sound. There were a couple of airplanes that were flown by different pilots at different times and I learned to tell when it was our father at the controls. I have been keen to notice airplanes all of my life. the place where we live is under the approach path to Vancouver International Airport for planes making left traffic for runway 26L. Since onshore winds are more common than offshore winds, that is the flow of traffic to the longest runway in use most days. I know this because I look up at nearly every airplane that passes over. A few miles east of our house, at our son’s farm, there is a significant amount of air traffic of planes that are being flown for training and test purposes. We routinely see some of Boeing’s newest designs in company colors in slow flight or flying low level patterns as part of their ongoing testing. We also see almost every kind of airplane from single engine trainers to judo jets flying training maneuvers over the farm.

I have noticed, however, that my head isn’t in the clouds quite as much as once was the case. I’m a little more careful to keep my eyes on the path when I am walking. I’m slightly more prone to tripping than I used to be, though I admit I have always been a bit clumsy with my feet. I once walked into a tree and broke my glasses when walking the block from the school to our house because my attention was focused on the sky. These days, however, I can’t look continuously at the sky while walking without becoming a bit light headed. And I have reached the age when my doctor asks me about falling on every visit. I want to avoid broken bones and other injuries that can come from not paying attention to where I am walking.

Yesterday as we walked up the path and turned alongside the settling pond a couple of blocks from our home a bald eagle was watching us from the top of the birch trees. I might not have even noticed the magnificent bird had my wife not pointed it out to me. I could have, however, reported on which homes in our neighborhood have cleaned out the moss from the cracks in their sidewalks and which ones have not. I paused for a second to gaze at the eagle and realized that once again I had been looking at my feet while I was walking.

I don’t want to become a person who fails to see the wondrous beauty of the place where I live. Our home is on a rise from which we can see snow covered mountains year round. We are a 15 minute walk from the beach of the Salish sea with some of the most dense bird population in the world. Snow geese and trumpeter swans come to our county for winter vacation every year. The sunsets over the islands are magnificent. I am blessed beyond counting with beauty all around me.

Truth be told, my head hasn’t been in the clouds as much as I think it was when I look back. I am nearsighted and have worn glasses since the first grade. My youngest brother has always been able to spot fish in the river that I could not see. He can see dear and elk on distant hillsides that I would not notice were it not for him pointing them out to me. Another product of reaching the age where I now am is that I am more aware that my memories are not as accurate as they seem to me to be.

Being nearsighted, however, does have some advantages. I think it is one of the factors that has brought me to feel so close to our youngest grandson. He has Dissociated Vertical Deviation (DVD), a condition in which both of his eyes wander. While most of us use binocular sight - both eyes focusing on the same object - to determine depth and distance, his eyes don’t always give his brain the information it needs. Sometimes his images of the world split and float up or down with the independent movement of his two eyes.

He is developing at his own pace. At an age where many of his peers are walking independently, he walks holding onto furniture or the fingers of a helper. When left on his own, he sits and scoots or crawls to get around. He has extraordinary fine finger coordination and spends a lot of time on tasks that involve things that are very close to his face. I need to get a bit closer to him before I see full recognition in his eyes. He is a quiet kid. Our children and other grandchildren were chatterers at his age, making all kinds of vocalizations and keeping us busy making lists of all of the new words they were employing. He only says a few words and often will say something only once without repeating. His favorite animals are the chickens and the kitten who come close enough for him to touch and to be seen in focus. He wears glasses and hasn’t rested them, so we know that they make his world clearer.

Because of his age and the timing of my retirement I have had the blessing of being able to spend more time with him than any of our other grandchildren. I have lived nearby all of his life. I see him multiple times every week. I am often on the floor playing with him.

Today is Gaudete Sunday, the day when we are reminded to “Rejoice in the Lord Always.” I find it hard to identify joy in a war-torn world where violence seems to be so inevitable. I find it hard to identify joy when I contemplate the pollution and environmental destruction that we are bequeathing to our grandchildren. But I can rejoice and know true joy by getting down to the level of our tiny grandson to see the pinecone, rock, or seed he hold put to show me. I can rejoice and know true joy by sweeping him into my arms and watching his face as he puts his hands into by beard. Despite wars devastation, joy is not absent from this world. I can light the candle of joy in good faith because of the gift of a child. Faith is renewed.