I know each parent believes their child is unique and special. And the amazing part is, they ALL are! The miraculous part of God’s creation. Each of their little minds work in such different ways and it keeps life so very, very interesting.
I first figured out I needed to find my faith again when my oldest son posed a very simple question after being told he needed to behave–‘Why?’ Why indeed. What is the point? Why should I try and raise my children to be compassionate to others? Kind? Forgiving? To reserve judgement? Lord knows I am not the perfect example I want them to follow–not by a long shot! So began the humbling, pride swallowing trip back to church. Thank goodness for that child’s one simple question. Until then, I was able to deny I needed any presence in my life to guide me from right or wrong. The belligerence of a teenager took one conflicting experience and jumped to such a hasty conclusion. I am happy I was wrong. And it took the wisdom of a five year old to show me.
Even if I am still on a journey with my faith, it has been incredible watching my children build an understanding of God. A couple weeks ago, putting my girls to bed, my 7 year old, Piper, commented out of the blue ‘So, Mom, you know how childbirth hurts?’ Well, my dear, I am awkwardly caught between a fight or flight feeling. On the one hand, I am terrified to know where she was going with that loaded statement. On the other, where the heck is she going with this statement? So I humor her and reply, ‘Yes, honey, I am aware of how much childbirth hurts.’ “You can thank Eve for that, Mom!” Followed by a fit of giggles, because yes, childbirth pain brought the giggles out in me for sure. Of course I laughed and asked her how she knew that and was informed the Sunday Bible lesson was all about Adam and Eve and the consequences for eating the apple and being kicked out of the garden. Her little mind must have been humming applying all that happend so long ago to a very present, very real consequence of today.
And today, Cabel, my 6 year old asked me out of the blue why people killed God and hammered nails into his hands and feet. How do you explain that? Part of me worries I will give him the wrong answer. After a very sober little conversation, he sat quiet for a long time and asked me the question I believe he was truly concerned about the entire time. “Mom, when I die…..and go to heaven……do I have to wear a dress?” Oh, son. I told him he he could probably wear camo if he wanted.
As much as I get frustrated and want to tear my hair out and have anxiety over being a are we raising these children right, the laughter is such a blessed gift. I love how their little minds work. I love watching them put things together in their special little ways. I love that all their questions affirm the faith I am trying so hard to grow and trust in myself.