Holiday (also) means “play like a kid”

It’s Memorial Day. We aren’t good at remembering, even when we set aside a day nationally to remember. We forget sacrifice. They say glory is forever, but actually it fades very quickly. You can give your life for a cause, and very few will remember or acknowledge it.

“Holiday” is the combination of the words “holy” and “day”. It refers to something set apart. Holidays are important for spiritual growth and maturity. It’s a time to be more mindful, but holidays are also supposed to somehow rejuvenate us and give us hope.

We are fundamentally designed to want and need a regular “sabbath period” during the course of 7 days. A resting point. A time out and away from the common things; normal life. Hardship.

But sometimes, in our times of remembrance, we forget to get our humanity back. We forget to remember the part about hope. Play is a vehicle for hope. Not the only vehicle, of course, but one adults, and even plenty of children don’t notice. Play keeps us humble before a great Creator and our fellow men. Play, somehow, frees us, in spirit, from the bondage of growing old, or rather starting to die. There is something about play the is just, simply, eternal.

True play is where you forget yourself, for a time, through joy or delight found by simple and good things. For it’s own sake. It is to embrace, with both arms, what it means to be you, a wonder and creation of God, unique in this world. And remember all the blessings of being here that come with that. Look around. Play.

When was the last time you “played like a kid”? I’m not talking about being immature. I’m talking about being happy in the moment and enjoying life with abandon, like children are wont to do. Have your “cease the day” moments.

My challenge for you today, or this week, is to find a space of time to do just this. Think of it as good for your soul. What will you do (or be) to have childlike wonder or enthusiasm wash over you?

I’ll start. Here’s what I did yesterday. I tried to just play with youthful exuberance, even if other adults wouldn’t join me, or I appeared the fool. I gave myself the permission God gives us, each holiday, to enjoy life fully. I will admit that after 30 minutes, I felt soggy, and had hardly childlike excitement about that bit. But, until then, it worked. I felt God-given refreshment, in the middle of what is the bitter-sweet life.

Foam machine fun.