Today Gretchen's PDO program threw a birthday party for Jesus. I made a ridiculous amount of popcorn as her contribution to the party. Anything worth doing is worth doing in a crazed and overdone manner, right? We filled up four tubs and packed everything up. Gretchen wore a new jumper she inherited from a third cousin. I was hesitant to send her off to play and eat and do crafts in her uber-fancy Christmas dress from my mother-in-law, although now I'm thinking I should have gone all in on that too. Isn't anything worth doing worth doing in a crazed and overdone manner? The dress she wore was not Christmassy, but it was cute: a peachy pink with brown polka-dots. She looked beautiful but was not happy with her attire, except the sparkly shoes, of course, which never fail to make her sparkle in response. As I was buckling her into her carseat, she asked me why I put her in a dress covered with eyeballs. Ah. Now I understand. It is harder to feel beautiful in a dress covered in eyeballs than in a dress decorated with polka-dots.
As we were driving to church, Gretchen hypothesized aloud that each and every car travelling in the same direction was also on the way to Jesus' birthday party. And how does a mother argue against that? Ideally, and in a more metaphysical way than I could really get into with a three-year-old, or so I thought, one would hope that on December 14, most people on the road are, in some manner, travelling toward Jesus' birthday party. When we were perhaps half-way to church, Gretchen became quite concerned: "Who is going to drive Jesus to the birthday party?"
"What?" I asked. I keep getting fooled into thinking Gretchen far more religious and profound than is reasonable for a three-year-old. She talks about Jesus being a baby and has been practicing her songs for the party: "Away in a Manger," "Mary Had a Baby Boy," and "Merry Christmas." She seems to at least sort of get it, or so I keep thinking. And then suddenly--and this has happened to me repeatedly--things really go down hill. It's amazing how quickly the innocent questions of a three-year-old can confound a rather ponder-prone 35-year-old.
"Well if Jesus is a baby, she can't drive. Who drives her to the birthday party?" Oh boy. Or girl, if one pays attention to the pronouns. My daughter is a crazed and overdone feminist if nothing else. The world needn't fear a diminished supply of girl power while she is around.
"When Jesus was a baby, there weren't cars." I decided to deal with the gender of Our Lord at another time because I secretly think that if God wanted to be really crazed and overdone about confounding expectations of power and about showing the least to be the greatest, God would have come as a baby girl. Just my opinion, of course. But back to the discussion: of course, if the answer is easy and sort of skirts the question, it's never going to cut it with a three-year-old. You cannot change the topic to the history of cars when what's really important is the baby Jesus.
"Well then how did she get to Her birthday?"
Where to begin. I paused a moment and decided that it was time to find a good children's version of the Christmas story at the local bookstore ASAP, but, in the meantime, I have heard the story quite a few times myself and could transmit the salient elements to get some of this straightened out before the party started. So I explained that quite a long time ago and in another part of the world, Mary, Jesus' mother, who Gretchen knows about from the songs, was going to have a baby, but she also had to go on a long trip. I was interrupted by questions of how they did this without cars, so I decided to say that they probably had a donkey, although I couldn't remember if the donkey was in the Bible or just in the illustration. When Mary and her husband Josesph arrived where they needed to go, there were lots and lots of people there already, and there weren't any hotels or inns that would give them a room, but one man said they could sleep in his stable, which is like a barn. And yes, that was good for the donkey.
"Where is the donkey now?" asked Gretchen. I reminded her that this was a very very long time ago, so that particular donkey is probably dead by now. "Well, then how is Jesus still a baby? How old is She?" Oh boy/girl.
"Well, Jesus isn't still a baby. We are celebrating that God came to earth as a human, as a baby, which is pretty cool thing for God to do."
"So Jesus isn't going to be at Her birthday party?"
"Well, yes, Jesus will be there, but not as a baby you can see." That made no sense to Gretchen, and before we started to get into invisible super-powers, I tried to explain. "Jesus is God. We say there are three ways you can think of God, as God who made everything, as Jesus who was born as baby and lived as a human, and as the holy spirit, who is always with us and among us and helps us to follow God and Jesus."
"So Jesus will be at church?"
"Yes, but you won't be able to see Jesus like you see most people. We say that we see Jesus when we see people acting like Jesus taught us to act, so hopefully you can always see Jesus in the church."
"Does Jesus live at the church?"
"I suppose you could say that. He lives everywhere, but the church is sort of His home base. It's a good place people can go to find Jesus in others and to learn about Jesus."
"If Jesus lives at the church, where are the rooms? I've never seen Her room."
"He doesn't need a bedroom. I suppose if you were going to say that one room was His special room, it would be the sanctuary, where we sing and worship and learn about Jesus, but He lives in whatever room has people who love him and act like him."
"Doesn't Jesus ever get to sleep?" Gretchen seemed apalled by this thought. Lucky for me, we had arrived at church, and I could get away with just saying, "No, he doesn't sleep, but he doesn't mind." Or so I hope.
I say it was lucky the conversation ended there because I felt myself teetering on the edge of a muddy theological pit, and it was a relief to get out of such conversations with at least a crumb of confidence left that I hadn't said anything either too simplistic to be "true" or too esoteric and uncertain to be considered any kind of answer at all for a three year old. But even more than being relieved to be let off the hook, I felt lucky that I had been put on the hook in the first place. Surely such conversations make all the bodily functions involved in day-to-day parenting worth the handling.
Afterwards, when I was relaying our earlier conversation about Jesus' birthday party to Doug, I asked Gretchen if she had seen Jesus at His birthday party. "Well," she told me, "you can't see Jesus like you can see other babies, but She was there." That, my daughter dressed in an eyeball dress, is a lovely thing in which to feel confident.
As we were driving to church, Gretchen hypothesized aloud that each and every car travelling in the same direction was also on the way to Jesus' birthday party. And how does a mother argue against that? Ideally, and in a more metaphysical way than I could really get into with a three-year-old, or so I thought, one would hope that on December 14, most people on the road are, in some manner, travelling toward Jesus' birthday party. When we were perhaps half-way to church, Gretchen became quite concerned: "Who is going to drive Jesus to the birthday party?"
"What?" I asked. I keep getting fooled into thinking Gretchen far more religious and profound than is reasonable for a three-year-old. She talks about Jesus being a baby and has been practicing her songs for the party: "Away in a Manger," "Mary Had a Baby Boy," and "Merry Christmas." She seems to at least sort of get it, or so I keep thinking. And then suddenly--and this has happened to me repeatedly--things really go down hill. It's amazing how quickly the innocent questions of a three-year-old can confound a rather ponder-prone 35-year-old.
"Well if Jesus is a baby, she can't drive. Who drives her to the birthday party?" Oh boy. Or girl, if one pays attention to the pronouns. My daughter is a crazed and overdone feminist if nothing else. The world needn't fear a diminished supply of girl power while she is around.
"When Jesus was a baby, there weren't cars." I decided to deal with the gender of Our Lord at another time because I secretly think that if God wanted to be really crazed and overdone about confounding expectations of power and about showing the least to be the greatest, God would have come as a baby girl. Just my opinion, of course. But back to the discussion: of course, if the answer is easy and sort of skirts the question, it's never going to cut it with a three-year-old. You cannot change the topic to the history of cars when what's really important is the baby Jesus.
"Well then how did she get to Her birthday?"
Where to begin. I paused a moment and decided that it was time to find a good children's version of the Christmas story at the local bookstore ASAP, but, in the meantime, I have heard the story quite a few times myself and could transmit the salient elements to get some of this straightened out before the party started. So I explained that quite a long time ago and in another part of the world, Mary, Jesus' mother, who Gretchen knows about from the songs, was going to have a baby, but she also had to go on a long trip. I was interrupted by questions of how they did this without cars, so I decided to say that they probably had a donkey, although I couldn't remember if the donkey was in the Bible or just in the illustration. When Mary and her husband Josesph arrived where they needed to go, there were lots and lots of people there already, and there weren't any hotels or inns that would give them a room, but one man said they could sleep in his stable, which is like a barn. And yes, that was good for the donkey.
"Where is the donkey now?" asked Gretchen. I reminded her that this was a very very long time ago, so that particular donkey is probably dead by now. "Well, then how is Jesus still a baby? How old is She?" Oh boy/girl.
"Well, Jesus isn't still a baby. We are celebrating that God came to earth as a human, as a baby, which is pretty cool thing for God to do."
"So Jesus isn't going to be at Her birthday party?"
"Well, yes, Jesus will be there, but not as a baby you can see." That made no sense to Gretchen, and before we started to get into invisible super-powers, I tried to explain. "Jesus is God. We say there are three ways you can think of God, as God who made everything, as Jesus who was born as baby and lived as a human, and as the holy spirit, who is always with us and among us and helps us to follow God and Jesus."
"So Jesus will be at church?"
"Yes, but you won't be able to see Jesus like you see most people. We say that we see Jesus when we see people acting like Jesus taught us to act, so hopefully you can always see Jesus in the church."
"Does Jesus live at the church?"
"I suppose you could say that. He lives everywhere, but the church is sort of His home base. It's a good place people can go to find Jesus in others and to learn about Jesus."
"If Jesus lives at the church, where are the rooms? I've never seen Her room."
"He doesn't need a bedroom. I suppose if you were going to say that one room was His special room, it would be the sanctuary, where we sing and worship and learn about Jesus, but He lives in whatever room has people who love him and act like him."
"Doesn't Jesus ever get to sleep?" Gretchen seemed apalled by this thought. Lucky for me, we had arrived at church, and I could get away with just saying, "No, he doesn't sleep, but he doesn't mind." Or so I hope.
I say it was lucky the conversation ended there because I felt myself teetering on the edge of a muddy theological pit, and it was a relief to get out of such conversations with at least a crumb of confidence left that I hadn't said anything either too simplistic to be "true" or too esoteric and uncertain to be considered any kind of answer at all for a three year old. But even more than being relieved to be let off the hook, I felt lucky that I had been put on the hook in the first place. Surely such conversations make all the bodily functions involved in day-to-day parenting worth the handling.
Afterwards, when I was relaying our earlier conversation about Jesus' birthday party to Doug, I asked Gretchen if she had seen Jesus at His birthday party. "Well," she told me, "you can't see Jesus like you can see other babies, but She was there." That, my daughter dressed in an eyeball dress, is a lovely thing in which to feel confident.
No comments:
Post a Comment