I’m conflicted when it comes to matters of faith.
Please do not feel free to write and lecture me on this. It’s my journey, not yours.
I was raised basically agnostic/atheist by my crazy ass parents…who suddenly became “Christians” when I started dating a Jewish man..(there is a stand up routine here, I assure you..).
I want my children to have some sort of faith, some sort of spiritual guidance…some sort of comfort in their darkest hours…something to fall back on. I know what the feeling of NO SECURITY does to a child/adult/person…and I want them to feel like there is something more. Until they can figure it out on their own.
My oldest daughter is fairly agnostic. I’m ok with that. I’m not sure what my 19-year-old daughter believes…she’s at that age where she doesn’t know herself fully yet… My autistic son says the Hebrew Shema every night..
This leaves my youngest son. Not long ago we were driving and I remarked that the clouds and sun were making “windows to heaven” pattern (it’s entirely possible I’m calling this the wrong thing DUE TO MY LACK OF RELIGIOUS UPBRINGING. SIGH.) He was instantly all over this. Where?? he demanded loudly. I pointed it out…he saw the sunlight streaming down. He wanted to know what I meant. I explained that some people thought that when the sky looked like that, it meant that the doors or windows to heaven were open and you could look up or the souls there could look down.
Now whenever we see this heavenly formation, my son wants me to speed up, to get directly under, so he can peer up. He wants to look up…and see who is up there.
I don’t have the heart to say what I think…that heaven isn’t this giant ass cloud in the sky….that I’m with Twain on this.
I let him have this. Why not.
He has too many nightmares from his time in Africa…too many memories… too much stuff already. He hung a dream catcher over his bed in an attempt to stop the bad dreams. It hasn’t worked-yet.
He will be twelve years old this week.
I worry that he isn’t reading enough. I worry that he will soon be a black male teenager in America. Don’t lecture me about race–I might have said the same things you would say…until I had African children. I worry about this and that–I worry all the time.
I don’t want him to worry like this.
So let him have his “windows to heaven.” Let him have some peace.
Let me worry for him. Let me take away his nightmares. Finally.
Peace and love.