On the way home from a family party the other day, my daughter was asking me about Jesus. She started out easily enough, asking, "Are there 2 gods? Jesus, and then God the father too?" And I said, "Yes. That's what we believe."
And then she asked, "And Jesus died, but he's supposed to come back again, right?" And I said, yes to that too.
Then she asked, "Wouldn't it be cool if he came back soon?" And so I said, "Yes, that would be really cool."
And then she asked, "If he comes back, can he stay with us?" What could I say? So, of course I said, "Yes." Because really, if Jesus needs a place to crash, we'd be happy to put him up.
Then she asked, "Shouldn't we get a room ready for him?" It started to feel like being on an episode of religious Candid Camera. What was I supposed to say? I remember sermons and bible verses that say we should always be ready for Jesus to show up. I don't want to be quoted as saying no to being ready for Jesus. But on the other hand, I really don't want to give up a room to the possibility. Nor do I want to be quoted as saying that if he would actually show up, he could sleep on the couch.
Instead, in a moment of insight, I said, "I suppose we could. Maybe we can turn your play room into a guest room for Jesus." And that was pretty much the end of that religious discussion.
Just for the record, if Jesus comes to the door, my husband and I would probably let him have our room. I'd even change the sheets.
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Sleepless Six Year Old
Here's what it is to have a 6 year old around.
Last night I had just crawled under the covers with a book, when a sleepy, tousled little girl walked into the room and said she was afraid of monsters. I pulled up the quilt to let her climb in and snuggle underneath with me, then turned off the light and tried to quiet her down.
After a little tossing and turning and trying to get comfortable curled up against me, she asked me about "Holy Hells." After a little back and forth, I'm pretty sure she meant "Holy Hill," which is a beautiful Catholic shrine at the top of a big hill, not too far from where we live. We talked about going there this Saturday. It's a beautiful place to visit in Fall.
That got her to wondering why we go to church on Sundays, but Jewish people go on Saturday, and why they're called Jewish, and what they believe. So I explained as best I could, and we drifted into a brief consideration of the triune god.
And then she fell asleep, breathing deeply, her head on my shoulder. In ten minutes, we dealt with make-believe, a misunderstanding, and some very large, important ideas. And that's what it's like having a six-year-old around.
Last night I had just crawled under the covers with a book, when a sleepy, tousled little girl walked into the room and said she was afraid of monsters. I pulled up the quilt to let her climb in and snuggle underneath with me, then turned off the light and tried to quiet her down.
After a little tossing and turning and trying to get comfortable curled up against me, she asked me about "Holy Hells." After a little back and forth, I'm pretty sure she meant "Holy Hill," which is a beautiful Catholic shrine at the top of a big hill, not too far from where we live. We talked about going there this Saturday. It's a beautiful place to visit in Fall.
That got her to wondering why we go to church on Sundays, but Jewish people go on Saturday, and why they're called Jewish, and what they believe. So I explained as best I could, and we drifted into a brief consideration of the triune god.
And then she fell asleep, breathing deeply, her head on my shoulder. In ten minutes, we dealt with make-believe, a misunderstanding, and some very large, important ideas. And that's what it's like having a six-year-old around.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Religion Junior
My six-year-old daughter was talking religion with me the other day. She feels sad about the death of my grandmother, whom she knew. My grandmother's death a couple of years ago was my daughter's first and only experience with death. She would like to be able to bring her great-grandmother back to life. And then it got interesting.
She got to wondering whether this was something Santa could do, given that he's magic. Then she was wondering if it was something God could do for her. Then she got to wondering if maybe Santa could talk to God on her behalf, because she figures they probably know each other. The more she got to thinking about it, the more this made sense to her, because Santa delivers presents to all the kids in the world to celebrate the birth of Jesus. So that must mean he believes in God. And maybe that means that the way he figures out if kids are good is to figure out if they believe in God. It was an interesting train of thought.
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