I took this photo of my grandson Lucas yesterday. His hand is on the shoulder of a young Target shopper he just met. Lucas had enjoyed sitting inside that cube for a few moments, then saw a little person walk by and said “Come in here, baby.” The other boy then hid behind his mom’s legs and Lucas went after him. “Come in here, baby,” he said, his tone not demanding or forceful, but gentle and encouraging.

“He’s really shy,” the mom explained to me. “Does yours have siblings?” she asked, wondering where he gets his social confidence. “Not until next month,” I said.

Before finding the hollow cube, Lucas excitedly pointed out to me all the spectacular things on the shelves, the many colors he knew, the faces he recognized like Baby Shark and Mickey Mouse. Both his joy at the visual delights and his exuberance in sharing them with me (“Gammy, look!” “Gammy, look!”) melted my heart.

I know many toddlers are this way, fully present in the moment, able to find joy in the simplest things and eager to share them with others. But I know this specific toddler, see his unique preciousness in the way he is so attentive and caring, the way he looks into my eyes that peer above the mask I must wear in the store. As Grammy, I recognize his sensitivity, the preciousness of his heart as similar to his mother’s.

Soon enough, he’ll be lured out of the joy of each moment and learn to numb his exuberance with the screens in front of him. I know this as someone who spends plenty of time with screens of my own. I also know the new baby sister will no doubt be challenging, and that his devoted Mama worries about his feelings being hurt when her attention is divided.

I see these hearts, Lucas’ and his mother’s, the precious unique spirits we each enter into the world with – and then I see how the harshness of life, of being human among other humans hurts us and dulls our senses, our ability to feel the Sacred all around us. Oh, how part of me would love to preserve forever Lucas’ sweetness just as it is right now. After all, Lucas will probably have times of feeling sad and unseen when Sister comes, and the thought of that pokes at me, and certainly worries his Mama too.

Then I look out my window to see the young brother / sister duo that live next door exploring their yard together or playing ball on the driveway. Lucas will have moments of delight in playing with Sister, important lessons learned while sharing with her. He and Sister will have a relationship that further shapes him, maybe transforming the pure sweetness of his heart into an even richer capacity to love, a capacity far more expansive than my own heart, which grew up without siblings.

So I look at this photo of sweet Lucas, his hand on the shoulder of a shy little boy, his beautiful spirit shining and I remember that the whole point of being human is to be present to the full range of experience – simple and complicated, joyous and heart-wrenching – to experience all of it and then somehow find our way back to our own unique precious spirit with an even deeper capacity to love.