'mon

 

“Bop, ‘mon.” 

They are words uttered fairly often around my house these days, and words I dearly love.  They come from my almost two-year-old grandson, Cannon, as he reaches out to take my hand in his and lead me to some unknown destination.  It doesn’t matter where we are going, and it doesn’t matter what we are going to do once we get there.  It doesn’t even matter that my granddad name is supposed to be “Pop.”  I like “Bop” all the better, because it is coming out of his precious mouth.

The destination usually involves blocks, or trains, or the piano, or all of the above, but the destination is not important, it is the invitation that captures my heart.  It is simply the invitation to ‘Mon (come on) and be with me.  So I ‘mon, and I take his hand, and I let him lead me.  And whenever we get where we are going, I enjoy his presence and breathe in his fragrance and listen to his words and watch his fingers and run my hands through his hair and I kiss his cheeks.  It is the best!  May I never be too busy or too self-consumed or too distracted or too preoccupied to accept.

It is the same invitation I’m sensing from God these days: “Jim, ‘mon.  Come and be with me.  Take my hand and let me lead you to an unknown, but incredibly beautiful destination.  I want to be with you and I want you to be with me.  I want you to savor and enjoy and delight in this life we have together.  I want you to breathe in my fragrance and watch my hands and listen to my words of delight and affection.  You do not know the destination, but the destination isn’t really important.  It’s the being with me that matters.  So ‘Mon.”