Partake in the Magic

I am taking a childcare course online, and during one of the activities, I came across this poem, which I would like to share.

A Child’s Mind

Eyes open wide
In wonderment
The children pressed against
The classroom window
I told them to sit down

John said
But Miss! A star has fallen in our field
I saw no star
Till bending down to child height
There, in the grass
I glimpsed the dazzling light

A Star?
A piece of broken jam-jar
Catching the rays of a low January sun.
Educationally, it would have been sound
To follow up with a lesson
On how the glass reflects the sunlight

I couldn’t
To forty children
Who had just seen a star

- Author Unknown


Can you place yourself here? I imagine the dilemma. Do I break this child's heart, or do I tell him the truth?

Do I explain the chemistry behind the beauty of a rainbow? Or do I respectfully hide the answer to a question that hasn't been asked, as to why flowers grow to be so stunning?

Doesn't it steal away the magic?

On certain nights, I look up at the sky, and on special evenings, the stars transform, they are no longer burning balls of gas millions of miles away, but beacons of truth, silent and refined, near singing with their majesty. So simple a view, but so powerful a message. So how would it seem right to break the heart of a child who believes in something so beautiful as a star having fallen in a field? The child sees something that for that one moment, while looking out onto a barren field, is truth because they believe it.

I imagine that if I were that child, I would wander outside after class and scoop up that jar, and take it home, to show to all who would allow themselves to partake in the magic, that this was a fallen star.

But maybe once I got out to the field, and saw the jar for what it was, I would recognize it, and only need one look before saying 'Oh... It's just a jar.'

But even then... Even after having thought that a star had fallen, to be disappointed by finding that it was just a cup of class glass out in the middle of a field, I would esteem it as magic. I would know that it was just a plain and simple jar, ugly up close, and seemingly unimportant, and yet it would be magic to me. Because I know that it was just this simple bit of glass glimpsed from the classroom window that had made such stunning beauty as to catch the gaze of the entire classroom. Because of the beauty of the shimmer, the brightness of design, and the truth of the light, I would scoop it up anyway.

I would take it home, and though I would not parade it as a star, I would showcase it as a miracle. I would show all who would allow themselves to partake in the magic, that this simple object was all it took to steal my breath away and show me something miraculous.

From small, simple and ugly things, miracles are born if we only allow ourselves to partake in the magic.