Friday Thoughts
Its a momentous thing to be the source of some small innocent child's perception of the world, the source of their understanding of love, God, suffering and death.
Frankly, it's a scary thing.
And I'm struggling. I'm struggling with self-doubt -- am I sharing this the right way? How can I help these precious little ones see the Faith for the beautiful reality that it is? I'm struggling with truth and "white lies"-- how much truth is too much? Can I hide parts of the truth from them?
Lent seems to bring up such hard subject matter. Why are we getting Ashes on our heads? Is Jesus dying on the cross right now? Did the crown of thorns hurt Jesus? Why? Why are the bad soldiers whipping/being mean/poking/pushing Jesus? Why is there rope around Jesus' hands? Was the tomb comfortable? How do we get to Heaven? And then there's the hardest one of all, the one that encompassed a whole semester of why-God-became-a-man theology in one fell swoop:
"But Jesus is strong! He is the stronger than the bad guys? Why's he not being strong? Why's he falling down?"
Similar questions have been asked before, but they are getting harder and more persistent every year. The questions make me tremble.
I tremble at the awesome responsibility that I have to pass on the Faith.
I tremble when I see the tears well up in little eyes or hear a shaky little voice filled with worry.
And I pray. I pray so hard that I am not scaring or overwhelming them. I pray hard that these little questions, so poignant (Why does Mother Mary miss Jesus?) and so deep (Were we in Jesus' heart on the cross?) are being answered by God speaking through me, and not by my imperfect self. I try to trust that the unquenchable thirst for answers and truth in little hearts and minds is not misplaced. I try to trust that God put the ability in the child to partially comprehend these mysteries in their own small way. I try to remember that the truths of dying and pain and weakness are parts of reality that have to be faced, even by children. I remember that these children are His, not mine, and He is with them, helping them to understand.
I pray, I try to trust, and then, sometimes, I cry.
I wish the world did not contain the things that make little children scared or worried or sad. I wish that I did not have to explain about the Holy Innocents or the Martyrs. But, death, pain, suffering and evil are present in the world and ultimately nothing I can do will protect them from those realities.
Yet, I know, that behind the pain, the blood, the tears and the horror, there is always Easter. Jesus will rise from the dead. Mary will see Jesus again. His Wounds will be shining and beautiful. He will be strong again. We will rise from the dead too.
Oh, thank you God, for Easter and celebration and Wounds that turn out to be beautiful and shining.
Thank you for the Happily Ever After.
Frankly, it's a scary thing.
And I'm struggling. I'm struggling with self-doubt -- am I sharing this the right way? How can I help these precious little ones see the Faith for the beautiful reality that it is? I'm struggling with truth and "white lies"-- how much truth is too much? Can I hide parts of the truth from them?
Lent seems to bring up such hard subject matter. Why are we getting Ashes on our heads? Is Jesus dying on the cross right now? Did the crown of thorns hurt Jesus? Why? Why are the bad soldiers whipping/being mean/poking/pushing Jesus? Why is there rope around Jesus' hands? Was the tomb comfortable? How do we get to Heaven? And then there's the hardest one of all, the one that encompassed a whole semester of why-God-became-a-man theology in one fell swoop:
"But Jesus is strong! He is the stronger than the bad guys? Why's he not being strong? Why's he falling down?"
Similar questions have been asked before, but they are getting harder and more persistent every year. The questions make me tremble.
I tremble at the awesome responsibility that I have to pass on the Faith.
I tremble when I see the tears well up in little eyes or hear a shaky little voice filled with worry.
And I pray. I pray so hard that I am not scaring or overwhelming them. I pray hard that these little questions, so poignant (Why does Mother Mary miss Jesus?) and so deep (Were we in Jesus' heart on the cross?) are being answered by God speaking through me, and not by my imperfect self. I try to trust that the unquenchable thirst for answers and truth in little hearts and minds is not misplaced. I try to trust that God put the ability in the child to partially comprehend these mysteries in their own small way. I try to remember that the truths of dying and pain and weakness are parts of reality that have to be faced, even by children. I remember that these children are His, not mine, and He is with them, helping them to understand.
I pray, I try to trust, and then, sometimes, I cry.
I wish the world did not contain the things that make little children scared or worried or sad. I wish that I did not have to explain about the Holy Innocents or the Martyrs. But, death, pain, suffering and evil are present in the world and ultimately nothing I can do will protect them from those realities.
Yet, I know, that behind the pain, the blood, the tears and the horror, there is always Easter. Jesus will rise from the dead. Mary will see Jesus again. His Wounds will be shining and beautiful. He will be strong again. We will rise from the dead too.
Oh, thank you God, for Easter and celebration and Wounds that turn out to be beautiful and shining.
Thank you for the Happily Ever After.
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