Are You There God? My Children Are Questioning....

YeeGads, it is interesting bringing up children!


I should first clarify that my kids do get semi-regular church exposure, so I'm not sure where these comments are coming from!  Probably normal maturing.


Sean, first of all, told me awhile ago that "God doesn't exist."  I asked him further about that, seems that God used to exist and doesn't anymore.  I was a little stymied, to say the least.  In speaking with one of our ministers, the theory was put forth that Sean's childhood God indeed is non-existent and he now is just trying to formulate his adult God.  For a boy who needs tangibles in his life, yes it is a stretch to ask him to have faith in something he can't see.


Miss Evie, my dear girl, laughed at my pre-lunch prayer the other day, and said "Mummy, God doesn't make food!!!"  Well Mummy makes it of course.  We followed with a conversation about how God makes sun and rain and it's effect  on plant growth, bla bla bla.  Still, God doesn't make the food Mummy.


(Sigh).


Well, at least I can still get the teenager to come to church; he does once-per-month usher duty, with the added bonus of being able to claim those hours for his mandatory Community Service.  Getting him to register the time is another story.....I told him the current interim minister was leaving, hence we should get him to fill out the form.  So get a form from school, OK Skyler?  Well he dawdled and dawdled and I texted and nagged and texted some more and he tried to get one but no one was in the office, and then he forgot and forgot and so on and so on.  Last Friday, the absolute LAST day that he would be able to get this sheet signed, he finally picked one up.


So we got it filled out and then came the nagging/texting/threatening process to get it handed in!  Did you hand it in Sky?  No, I forgot.  Where is it?  I don't know, in my bag I guess. (I found it out by the TV remotes).  I brought it to school to hand it in myself, but realized he hadn't signed it, so had to text him between classes and tell him to meet me in the front hall of the school.  He wasn't too impressed to have his mother loose in the school hallways, (I wave at all his friends and anyone else I think he might know) so didn't dawdle in finding me.  He saunters up, pretends not to notice me really, grabs the form and saunters away.  "Make good choices darling"  I call after him, just for effect.


But we love each other anyways.


Thanks God.  You and I know you exist.

Late 1960's, at my brother Bernhard's confirmation, Mad Men era.  That's me on the left, white gloves and all!  Wasn't my mother classy? 

Note the obligatory cigarette in my father's hand.