Conversations

Since I recently posted a blog relating to parenting and instilling faith in my children, I thought I’d relate a few of the most meaningful conversations I’ve had with my kids on this topic (at least to date).

Once Samuel asked me if I believed that God created everything. Not being aware that I was being led into a most troubling discussion I said, “Yes, Samuel I do believe that.” He followed up with, “And God knows everything right?” “Yes son. He does.” Then came the kicker, Samuel asked, “Well then why did God create Satan if He knew he would make everything so horrible?” I thought about hedging. I thought about just flat out lying. But, I made a commitment at the very beginning of my parenting days to be entirely truthful to the best of my ability. So for this question I answered truthfully. Here’s what I said: “Samuel, I wondered that too for a very long time, especially when I was in college. I’m not sure I know the answer but here’s what I believe. I think God values freedom and He relates to us with that in mind. He wants us to choose to follow Him because we love Him. He doesn’t want us to be forced to love Him because we have no other option. So, Satan needed to be there so that we would be able, with complete freedom, to choose for God or against Him. But I also believe that even Satan had a choice, at one time, whether or not He would serve God. He didn’t choose wisely.”

As some of my more theologically savvy friends might have gathered by now...I’m not reformed. Actually, I don’t easily fit into any of those types of categories, at either end of the spectrum. I’m not too bothered by that fact.

As much as I value honesty as I relate to my kids, there was one time that I distinctly remember lying to Samuel. I don’t think there was any other way to approach the situation, but it bothered me at the time. About two weeks after Andy’s death I was tucking Samuel into bed. We had just said prayers when he wrapped his arms around my neck and whispered in my ear, “Mama, are you going to die like Papa did?” I was completely shell shocked by this question because I had been thinking for a few days, at the time, about how there was no way I could promise that my children wouldn’t be orphans. I could die in a car accident tomorrow. I could go to sleep and never wake up. I was completely and totally aware of the fragility of life and, frankly, I was terrified. I knew that I could not, in all honesty, promise my four year old that I wouldn’t leave him too. I knew that my own life was out of my hands...aware of this truth like I’d never been before. Yet, with that knowledge hammering away in my heart I looked into my son’s eyes and said, “I will never leave you. I’m not going to die.” Samuel relaxed and whispered again, “Promise you won’t die until I’m very very old.” I promised. 

Such conversations about death and all its particulars became very normal around our house. I would sometimes laugh, knowing how absolutely horrified someone might be to overhear our conversations at times. But children have questions, just like we do, about death and they don’t feel awkward about asking those questions. At least, mine didn’t.  Samuel especially, since he was the oldest and the most verbal at the time, would ask the most penetrating and insightful questions. One of my favorite conversations went like this:

Samuel: “If Papa’s body was burned up to ashes,” (I never told him anything but the truth about cremation) “How will I recognize him when I get to heaven?”

Me: “Well, our bodies, at least how they look now, won’t be in heaven. What goes to heaven when we die is what’s inside us, what’s in our hearts, who we really are.”

He was confused, so I elaborated.

“You know the parts about Papa that made him Papa, like the fact that his favorite color was brown and he hated it when his food touched on his plate...or that he loved to sword fight with you, and that he prayed for you and he loved to help people...all those parts will still be there and we’ll recognize him because no one else has that same set of things about them. We will know him and he will know us.”

Samuel thought about that for some time before he said something that continues to amaze me,

“Mama, you know when I’m mean to my sisters and I feel bad inside about being mean and I ask them to forgive me?”

Me: “Yes?”

Samuel: “I think that part inside of me that feels bad, and then feels happy when I’m kind to them...I think that same part is the part in me that will be in heaven. I think that’s the parts of us you mean.”

In a perfectly four year old way my son had described his inner life...his conscience and his spirit. I just wrapped my arms around him and said, “Yes son, that’s exactly the right parts.”

I have so many more stories, but these are some of my most memorable. I realize that they all involve Samuel, but Sasha didn’t even start stringing together sentences until five months after her father’s death. And Sylvia wasn’t even crawling at the time. I know the conversations with the girls will come. They’ve already started to some extent. Sasha prays now and earnestly wants to help everyone she sees. She recently prayed to ask Jesus to come live inside her heart, and her discussions are demonstrating real understanding and change in the deepest parts of her. Samuel tries to instruct her in all things and sometimes his theology is quite a bit skewed. I can’t help but laugh. They are learning and growing and somehow, miraculously, they feel secure. I only hope I can continue to enjoy these golden days of childhood when they are so sincere and curious. Most of all, I hope we can continue having conversations together about such important things. I know that someday the tables will turn and they’ll be teaching me things by the extraordinary way they live their lives.