Jesus

Happy Easter!
The Boy is having an existential crisis, I think. We are Presbyterians. One day as we pulled up to church he asked why there was a cloth hanging on the cross. Actually, I think he said "what's dat purple fing up der?" I told him that cloth means that we're getting ready for Easter. He was fine with that, and I assumed he'd forgotten about it.

Then two weeks ago he noticed it again. He asked me, very seriously, if that was the Easter bunny's pants up there. Well, no. I told him. What is it, then? He asked. Hmmm. We went to find our children's minister Mrs. Soup (aka Mrs. Sue) and she explained to him very simply that the cloth is like what Jesus wore and helps us remember Jesus and that he loves us. Why didn't I think of that?  In his defense, it would explain the mystery of why the Easter bunny never has on pants. They're on the cross. So that's solved.

The Boy wanted to go to "the big class" aka worship on Easter Sunday because he wanted to hear the horns. We let him come for the first part and then sent him to his class to play. Our church also does this really cool thing on Easter where all the windows are covered with black fabric, and then the fabric is ceremoniously and symbolically removed during the first part of worship. The Boy asked why they were taking the curtains down, and I told him the only thing I could think of at the moment, that they were letting the light in, just like we let Jesus into our hearts.

 I wasn't comfortable telling my kid that Jesus died, or that he came back to life and that's what Easter is all about. All he knows about death relates to mama squishing a bug, and frankly, I think that's confusing and morbid to associate with Jesus right now. Hell, we're secretly on his third pet beta fish "Scoot" because death is complicated.  

On the way home he asked if our hearts have doors for Jesus to get in. The Husband told him yes. We are obviously not doing a great job of explaining things. 

  

                   

So yesterday on the way to school, I was talking to The Boy about not picking his nose because there are lots of germs in his body. His only response was "just like Jesus!" Well, yes. And no? I don't even know how to explain that. 

THEN he told me that "Jesus doesn't live in my friends' hearts because they don't go to church." I nearly hit the brakes in the car. I don't know where he got that idea, but it's something I have a real problem with theologically. Have I failed him so far spiritually? I tried hard to stay casual, and I told him that Jesus can live in anyone's heart, and they don't have to go to our church or any church. 

Easter pic


Suddenly I felt a lot of pressure to get this right. I mean, we're in charge of nearly everything he learns right now, everything he thinks about life and self and family and church and Jesus and love come from us. And he's curious, which means he might actually be listening when we answer. What I want him to know is that Jesus loves us, and that we need to love others. Everyone. Period. That's what I'm sure of, but there's a lot I'm not sure of too. What if he asks questions we don't know the answers to? We're already not winning at the basics. Plus, this whole Jesus thing doesn't make a lot of sense. How am I supposed to explain to a two year old that we worship one God, who is also three persons, one of which came to earth, then died, then came back to life, then went to Heaven and now lives in your heart and wants you to love others?

And what about others that think differently than we do? And what about giving him the chance to decide what he thinks for himself? And what about one day when he won't care what we say or think and will make up his own decisions anyway? I was starting to have my own existential crisis. 

In case you haven't noticed, I need to process things a lot. So I texted my friend Jill who just happens to be a minister, and happens to think my kid is cool. She lets him come to her house and pour out all the Legos and pretend to be Harry Potter and do all the things kids love to do. I told her all the things that The Boy had said. I told her I felt like I needed to know all the things about all the things so that I would know how to answer The Boy's questions. This is what she said. 

And there it is. 

And I'm sweetly schooled. Yes. Obviously, obviously it's about being okay with not knowing all the things about all the things, and just trusting. And for now, that means that my kid thinks the Easter bunny's pants are on the cross, and that Jesus is a tiny germ that lives in your heart, which has a door. And for now Easter means hunting eggs and dressing like one fourth of a barbershop quartet. To him, it makes as much sense as the real story and the real reasons. And even if these things don't completely make sense, he's trusting. And asking. 

Which might be more than I can say for myself some days. 

So let's hope he learns a little more along the way, and so do I. 

Amen.