The Mouths of Babes

As far as religion and spiritual matters go, I'm not descriptive. I don't enforce a specific spiritual code in my home. I grew up in a conservative baptist home where my entire family was very involved in the church. Sunday school, church choir, music department, youth camps, Sunday sermon tech, prayer meetings, woman's group, bible study, outreach and missions - we were involved in it all.

But then something happened (which is an entirely separate story on its own, and one which I will dissect carefully for you - but not today), and now I am unconnected to "The Church". When it was just me, this wasn't really a problem, but with the arrival of the girls I had to stop and ask myself quite seriously, "What about them?"

I had many arguments with myself about my spiritual obligations towards my offspring - the passing on of morals and biblical values; my responsibility of educating them re: the forces of good and evil etc. Most of these arguments are still incomplete.

As things stand, my children rarely go to Sunday school. I read them bible stories when they ask for them, or because I hear them discussing key characters incorrectly placed and I feel guilty that they don't know the stories by rote like I did when I was their age. I get embarrassed when they talk about how Moses was swallowed by the whale, or how Joseph and Eve were in the garden of Eden together (these muddled stories are most often sparked by discussions at school). We say grace before meals on occasion (for me it's less of a prayer and more of an observance of gratitude).

While some Christian input is offered by their paternal grandparents, at this stage, most of my children's biblical education happens at school.

Today was Ascension Day, and the children took part in crafts and stories related to the event at school.

On the way home from school, the car conversation was based on Ascension Day. T-bird had made a paper-cup heaven (coloured blue and stuck about with cotton wool clouds) with a paper Jesus hanging on a string which could be pulled up inside the upside-down cup to represent his ascent into Heaven. She was demonstrating her creation to her sister.

"Look! Jesus is going to Heaven," she said as she pulled the string through the hole punched in the bottom of the cup making Jesus disappear into the waxy chalice.

"I can still see his feet," Air-Bear pointed out matter-of-factly.

"He doesn't fit in my heaven so well," explained her sister. "So he can just come out again." And she tugged on Jesus' paper feet to draw him back into plain view.

"Do you know what Ascension Day is?" I asked the girls as I turned into our street.

Air-Bear leapt at the opportunity to share her knowledge. This is what she said: "Jesus died and came alive again at Easter. Then he stayed for about a month and then it was Ascension Day. On that day he went to Heaven to help God make beds for everyone."

Yes! Hello! I'll go for a heaven where there's a bed made for me - I think I could justify some celestial sleep.