Tuesday morning. About four weeks back. I was walking on the beach with Wallace. It was windy and drizzly cold. Early spring rain-in-your-face cold. But I hardly noticed. I was locked in. Prayerfully conversing with God almighty. Out loud, of course, as there wasn’t another soul on the beach. Riffing my usual whiny hits. “God, help me.” “God, I need to make money.” “God, what am I doing with my life?” Then, as gently as the misty rain, it struck me. An existential realization. A coming-to-terms moment for the ages. Finally, after decades of searching, an inaudible voice of reason told me exactly what I needed to hear. I understood my purpose. The reason for my being. The things I’ve been chasing after all these years.
I found my why.
“Preserving childhood.”
That’s what I’m all about. What I’ve always been about. Even when I didn’t know it. Even when I didn’t realize it. Even when I couldn’t give it words. I’ve always been about preserving childhood. Every action. Choice. Career move. Creative venture. They have all been compelled by this singular invisible vision. One that wants to hold onto childhood for its own sake. For my sake. For the sake of my children. For the sake of all kids (of all ages). Holding fast to the sacred: play, wonder, curiosity. The good stuff. What makes us human and whole. What gives us the power to empathize, problem solve, and dream. Holding back the harmful: ideology, dogma, exploitation. The bad stuff. What we adults are usually obsessed with. Tangled in. Trapped under.
Truth is, kids live in an adult-made world. Designed for adult-minded minds. Constructed with adult-formed thoughts. Intended for adult-lived experiences. And of course, kids need adults! They need our security, safety, and fully developed brains. They need our rational decision making. Forward thinking. And ability to see that yes, if you eat an entire bucket of Easter chocolate, you will get sick. What kids don’t need, however, is to be rushed into adulthood. They don’t need our adult-focused pressure. They don’t need our adult moralisms and dogmas and ideological platforms. Kids don’t need trite and overly sentimental stories. Or subpar art. Or reductionist narratives. They need adults to carve space for them to be kids. To act like kids. Think like kids. And dream like kids.
They need adults to join them (and be like kids).
They need art and stories that invite exploration, incite imagination, and move towards meaning making. Kids need adults who will stand in the gap and preserve childhood. Holding onto the sacred. Holding back the harmful. In short, kids need our best. My best.
Timing, it proves, is everything.
After my rain soaked walk I got in the car and rushed to tell my wife about my epiphany on the beach. She’s had a front-row seat to my angsty struggle. She knows full well what is at stake. And what it would mean for me to finally understand my purpose. “Preserving childhood!” I told her. Words I’d never been able to express before. She smiled. Joyfully nodding her head. Pleased with my revelation. When lo, one day later, we both received a email, congratulating me on winning Emerging Artist of the Year. “Congratulations!” it read. “We love your work, blah, blah, blah,” it said. “You were nominated by your wife Faith who shared some very inspiring words in her nomination package, which I have attached.” A letter she’d written six weeks before my beach conversion. Before I knew my why. Before I found my purpose.
When I read it, I was shocked. Speechless. In true disbelief. Here is the opening paragraph:
“I am nominating my husband Amos Shelley of Pictou for the emerging artist award. Amos was a progressive member of clergy serving children, youth and families for most of his career, and profoundly worked to integrate art and spiritual vocation together. He was often met with discouragement from individuals saying he will never be able to use art in the church or find an art career. Amos’ heart as an artist and an entrepreneur remained constant and in 2023 he left the clergy to pursue a more inclusive environment and his calling as an artist. His calling is to create art to preserve childhood.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself. That is my calling. My purpose. To be someone who stands in the gap to preserve childhood for the sake of kids (of all ages). And yes, that includes you! So you better watch out. And you’d better not cry. Better not pout. I’m telling you why. Imagination and playfulness and stories are coming to town!
