Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Jesus is in the oven

Is there anything more delightful than watching a child trying to figure out the world? You know, when they listen to what we say, and use their limited vocabulary to try to filter out the meaning, and then form beliefs based on their understanding?

Today we were at Kasey's, and she told me about a conversation she had with Caitlyn recently. On their back porch is a rocking chair that belonged to Beau's grandfather, Peepaw. A few days ago they were outside, and Caitlyn started a conversation with, "This is Peepaw's chair, right?"

"That's right," Kasey told her.

"Peepaw's in the oven."

"No, honey, Peepaw is in Heaven."

"Oh," said Caitlyn, wheels turning. "He's with Jesus. Jesus is in the oven."

"No, Caitlyn, not the oven--Heaven. Jesus is in Heaven."

"Oh," said Caitlyn.

Kasey and I laughed, and basked in the enchantment of loving a three year old.

Later in the afternoon, I was playing with the girls; and I smiled again, remembering. And I wondered if Caitlyn had gotten things sorted out, so I asked, "Caitlyn, where's Jesus?"

Her wide, innocent eyes looked up into mine, and she said, "He's in the refrigerator."

Baby steps. Precious baby steps.

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