When Chelsea was three these are some of the questions she asked me,
Where is heaven? What does it mean to die? When I yawn why do my eyes water? How does water come to our house? How does our body make urine? What does God look like? Who was born first? Why can't we make grapes in the kitchen with a recipe? Why do we have two nostrils? Where do words come from? When fish die do their fins turn into wings?
Does God feel scared?
No, I don't believe God feels scared.
Does God feel happy?
Some questions just need to been asked, with each question the answer goes deeper and deeper. Like a child who says, "why?" after every answer.
My mother reminded me to answer my children's questions as honestly as I could. "That is how they learn, and after they have asked you a hundred times the same question, and they go to ask you yet again, simply ask, "Why," back to them. Then you will hear that they will have the answer."
If only my questions could have answers.
If only we could ask why over and over until the question no longer existed.
Until the truth rang.
Until doubts vanished.
Until we knew that everything was going to be… okay.
"O ye of little faith." Mathew 6
The heart doesn't question, it responds.
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