I was in a tire shop yesterday, dropping of our son’s car. He had arranged for the shop to install new tires and perform an alignment, but he works in another town, and his wife was taking care of their preschool son, so delivering the car to the shop was something I could easily do to help the family. The shop has a courtesy shuttle, so I could get a ride back to the farm with very little disruption to my schedule. I could have watched the two year old while his mother took the car to the shop, but they were in the midst of stacking firewood in the woodshed and it seemed like the easiest thing all around was for me to take the car in.

There was a brief period when I was in the tire shop waiting room while the technician checked for other potential problems. The shop has a large display area filled with tires with a few small tables around the perimeter. There is a counter where coffee, water and popcorn can be obtained and a larger counter behind which store employees serve customers with estimates, scheduling, and other issues. I chose a seat near the window thinking that I might be temporarily entertained by watching the coming and going of the vehicles, customers and technicians.

The real show, however, was in the waiting room. A couple was waiting with their child while their car was being serviced. The child was a similar age and size to our youngest grandchild. Like others his age, he was running full speed ahead. The showroom provided him with significant open space to get going and his parents were taking turns following him around the room. Sometimes they had to put on a burst of speed to keep him headed in the right direction. He wasn’t causing any problems and he was being carefully watched so was not in any danger and he certainly was providing entertainment for me. He waved at me each time he ran by.

On one lap around the room he headed straight for a tire on a display stand near where I was seated. In the center of the tire was a round piece of cardboard with an advertisement telling of the features of that particular tire. The young boy didn’t realize that the tire and cardboard were two different things. He thought he could put out his hands and run into the tire and it would stop him. Instead, when he reached the tire, he placed his hands on the cardboard which easily gave way and he plunged head and hands first right through the middle of the tire ending up with his head and hands sticking out one side and his feet sticking out the other.

The move surprised all of us. His father plunged for his feet to keep him from going all the way through the tire. I grabbed the tire, fearing it might fall off of its stand and fall on the child. As his head came out the other side of the tire, the child had an incredible look of amazement and surprise that instead of stopping when he got to the tire as he expected, he was suddenly lying in the middle of it. After a few seconds of surprise, the little one started to giggle which combined with the situation to make me and his father both laugh.

I never learned the name of the little boy. I only exchanged a dozen words with his father. I didn’t ever say anything to his mother. But he gave me such a gift in the middle of a busy day. Yes, it is fun to laugh and laughter is a gift, but there was something more in our brief exchange. For just a moment a little boy was experiencing his world as safe and fun, knowing that his parents were there for him and would protect him. For a moment, he wasn’t seeing strangers as threats. For a moment I sensed how much he was loved and cared for by his parents. For a moment we all shared his boundless joy.

I’m sure that the boy and his parents will not long remember me. I, however, will treasure the memory. I love children. One of the blessings of my life is that I was able to work with children for all of my career. For 25 years I worked in a building that housed a preschool and I could walk down the hall to watch 3 and 4 year olds as often as I wanted. I could step out of my office and hear the joyful noises of the classes of children.

Another blessing of my life is being able to live near our grandchildren. I get to see them almost every day, to play with them, to read stories to them, to hear their laughter and dry their tears. We have the good fortune of being trusted by our children and their spouses to have access to our grandchildren.

But there are times when I have to be very careful. There are dangerous people in the world. And some of them are adult men who harm children. Some of them look like me. Stories of predators who bring violence to innocent lives abound. Parents have to teach their children about stranger danger. Whenever I am out in public I don’t want to add to a child’s fear, so I observe but don’t approach children that I do not know. I focus my attention on them and on their parents so that at the first sign of fear or alarm I can step back and make sure I am not perceived as a threat. Once, when I was photographing one of our grandsons at a playground I was approached by a concerned mother of another child playing there who wanted to know what I was doing. She didn’t understand that I was related to my grandson because his mother was also present. She had picked up that relationship, but in her mind, I didn’t belong and an old man with a camera photographing children at a public playground was a potential threat.

Yesterday, however, I wasn’t a threat. For just a brief moment, I was part of the safety net protecting a precious young one - a partner with loving parents who could share laughter and the unbounded joy of their child.

Life gives me so many gifts of joy that I have learned to expect joy in the everyday places. Remembering the child, I’ll be looking for joy wherever I go.