On Easter, we went to my parents' house to swim. We were splashing around in the pool, talking about much of nothing. My dad asked Daniel about Easter. "Why do we celebrate Easter?" Daniel looked at him funny (we still struggle with the concept of celebration). I rephrased it for him, "Daniel? What did Jesus do on Easter?" Without a breath's hesitation, he looked at my dad and said, "He took away all my sins. All the bad things." Tears sprung to my eyes. I can only imagine how God felt to hear such sweet words.
A few weeks ago, Daniel and I had the following conversation:
Daniel: Where is Daddy?
Me: Daddy's at work.
Daniel: Where is Daddy?
Me: Daddy's at work.
Daniel: Where is YOUR daddy?
Me: Buddy? Buddy's asleep.
Me: Buddy? Buddy's asleep.
Daniel: Where is HIS daddy?
Me: He's in Heaven.
Me: He's in Heaven.
Daniel: Is he God?
Me: No, sweetie. He's with God.
Me: No, sweetie. He's with God.
Daniel: Is he Jesus?
Me: Nope, but he's with Jesus, too.
Daniel (extended thoughtful pause): So is he Goliath? Or is he Moses?
Conversations like these will stick with me for the rest of my life. I, of course, went on to explain that there are more people in Heaven than just God, Jesus, Goliath (who, if I remember the Philistines correctly, probably is NOT in Heaven), and Moses. When he asks things like this, I know he's listening, even if he doesn't quite get it.
My favorite Heaven discussion to date happened just this Thursday. We were driving to the Y for a quick workout when Daniel piped up from a rare, pensive silence in the back seat. "How do you get to Heaven?" See, we've talked lots about how to get to where our family members are. You take a plane to Phoenix or to Qatar (Nana and PopPop, respectively), you drive to Buddy and Gram's, you drive aaaaaaaaall day to get to Denton (Uncle Jon and Aunt Kristin), you drive part of the day to get to Giddings (Granny and PopPop), etc., etc., etc. I guess he just wondered how to get to God. I launched into a pretty moderate explanation about Salvation. You have to tell God thank you for Jesus and thank you for taking away my sins (I'm still too chicken to explain death. . . ). You have to tell God that you love Him and you want Him to be with you always. I started to add a few other details, but noting the look on Daniel's face, I stopped. "Daniel? Is everything ok?" Daniel responded in a very non-Daniel small voice, "I want Him to hold me. I want Him to hug me." The only words that would come were, "Me, too, baby. Me, too."
Later that day, Daniel, Lia, and I curled up in Brother's bed for a nap. We all snoozed for awhile, but I woke up long before the kids did. As I lay there between my babies, it occurred to me that I was probably as close to hugging God as I would ever come on this planet. Hearing them breathe. Smelling Lia's newborn smell and Daniel's I'm-three-and-I-play-hard-outside-all-day smell lingering together (call me crazy, but with a better name, Scentsy might could make some money on that one). Feeling their tiny, warm bodies curled up against mine. I couldn't help but think that this was God's way of hugging me before my time. I closed my eyes and took in the sensation. And I thanked God for hugging me, for making it possible for me to even consider such a thing.
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