Today I had the extreme honor of listening to third graders read their fictional stories. And I loved every minute of FBI baby brothers, Giant BFF's, and talking teddy bears. During one such conference I took pause - to marvel at the power of one sentence in the hands of a child. The boy was still writing his story but would occasionally stop to read aloud to me. He stopped reading mid-sentence at one point and began writing frantically, only taking a moment to fill me in, "He doesn't get back to earth with this sentence, but he does escape from the alien monster." I just smiled back, because where did that alien come from? Last I'd read with him, a few minutes prior, there was only a rabbit riding on the back of an electronic magical horse. Wow, that's one sentence.
A sentence in the hands of a child, holds the potential of all things created - and yet to be imagined.
A sentence in the hands of a child, is putty for little Gods - building new worlds.
A sentence in the hands of a child, carries infinite possibilities and boundless imagination.
It crackles with sparkling optimism, sings with un-muted hope, shines with their smiles reflecting back, smells like recess, tastes like ice-cream and feels like life once lived... too short to see the fences.
A sentence in the hands of a child...
But ah, only a child really can.
Marvel at the power, of one sentence
In the hands of a child.