A few days ago, Peter and I had an awesome experience at our neighborhood park. We go almost every day to throw the frisbee or “chuck-it” ball for our pup Luci, who playfully runs and fetches while keeping her eyes wide open for another dog to play with.

No playful doggies showed up that day, but a little girl did. Children often ask to pet Luci, but most of them are a bit scared of her, probably because of her size and youthful rambunctiousness. But this little girl approached with the kind of trust, tenderness, and respect you might see with close friends; and Luci quickly returned the favor. The two of them gently but vigorously played fetch with the ball and ran and chased each other until both plopped down panting and grinning.

Then a second child showed up, and the first introduced her to Luci, taught her how to “chuck” the ball, and coached her to give Luci space when she stopped to catch her breath. The three of them ran and chased, shrieking and laughing, then plopped down together for a chat, looking for all the world like longtime best friends - although they’d never met before.

Then another child approached, followed by another and then another; and each time, the same thing happened - someone in the group would show the new child how to play gently and respectfully with the dog and each other. The children took turns - even offering turns to each other - throwing the ball for Luci, chasing her and each other, and letting Luci chase them. They cheered each others’ throws and catches. They were inclusive and protective toward the newer, smaller, or more timid ones. They willingly paused the game whenever Luci wanted a breather.  And I … well, I got to be a grateful, teary-eyed witness to a most amazing demonstration of playful, patient loving, of respectful openness and inclusion, of genuine caring and sharing.  And fun.

I’m moved deeply each time I remember that day, so I’ve asked myself: what is it about those children that touches me so? Very simply:

• They were friendly, but more than that, open-hearted.

• They were caring, and helped each other (all others) to play safely and respectfully.

• They were eager to learn and to help each other learn.

• They enjoyed sharing, with no possessiveness nor selfishness about it.

• They celebrated each other and Luci.

• They treated Luci as if she were one of them, and she responded in kind.

• They even treated me as one of them. And I responded in kind.

That’s the world I want to live in.

I recently found this lovely quote from Jeff Foster. I think the kids know it naturally:

WE ARE ALL WAITING TO BE TOUCHED BY GOD.

OR BY A FRIEND WHO CARES.

(WHICH IS THE SAME THING, REALLY.)

So what gets in the way of that kind of caring touch? Is it doubt? Fear? Judgment? Prejudice? Assumptions? What beliefs do I hold that block giving such respectful caring to others, even those I know? What blocks my receiving it? What blocks my allowing it in myself, for myself?

What if instead, I saw that next person I encounter as my new BFF, just waiting for me to open up, to smile and say hello, to offer them the ball … or ask if they’ll give me a turn? To see their vulnerability and mine, and honor and protect it with dignity? To laugh and love without demands or attachments?

There’s that part of me - and of you, I’ll wager - that’s free of all those blocks, as free as those precious children. That part of me, that spiritual heart of me, is there even when my doubts and fears and limiting beliefs want to hold me back. It’s the friend who cares, who is always there, always ready to be that caring touch of God/heart/spirit. All I need to do is to choose it, allow it.

Sure, the doubts and fears and limiting beliefs flare up, but like that little girl approaching the big red dog, when I move forward with my trust, respect and tenderness - plus a little playfulness, I quickly find that my new BFF has been there all along, inside me, inviting me to be the caring friend for myself and for others. It’s the layered meaning of the old saying: “If you want to have a friend, be a friend.”

So how about you? Are you ready to have a playful encounter with your new best friend? What if you challenge yourself to BE the friend who cares, inwardly and outwardly? What if you try it out with yourself, and then with the next person you encounter, even if only for a moment? If you do decide to play, please let us know about it in the comments section, so we can all share some heart-play together.

Ready? Go fetch!