In my faith, we believe in the eternity of the soul. That which is the spirit, the intelligence, existed before we were born on Earth, it animates our Earthly body, it will continue to live after we die. We also believe that Christ pioneered our path. We will be resurrected after our death and our spirits will re-inhabit our bodies, just as Jesus was resurrected and His spirit rejoined his body. We believe that when Christ comes for the second time, the Earth will be purged of evil and corruption and will be cleansed and prepared for celestial, purified, resurrected, righteous beings to dwell upon with their families forever.
These are deep and heavy concepts for anyone to ponder, especially so for curious little minds like my six year old.
Young minds without grown-up wisdom, experience and understanding often misinterpret information and relate ideas dispensed by grown-ups to the things they do understand. I didn't fully comprehend some things my mom said when I was a kid.
For example, my body reacts violently to mosquito bites. Once when I was bitten on the face my eyes swelled shut and my whole face puffed up until the venom dissipated. Another time after a moment by a river without mosquito spray I was the victim of a dozen or more mosquitoes and my legs lost all definition, becoming puffy, swollen stumps from thigh to foot. Even the welts weren't discernible bumps from all the swelling. Due to this reaction, my mother told me to exercise extreme caution around bees because people who have allergic reactions to bee stings can die from them. Not surprisingly, I became deathly afraid of bees.
Years went by without incident but I never forgot that warning. One day when my mom was out shopping and running other errands, I was playing basketball with my sisters and neighbors and I got stung on the inside of my thigh by a bee. I went weak in the knees and ran inside to tell my dad. He told me to put ice on it. PUT ICE ON IT??? I'm GOING TO DIE and you are telling me to PUT ICE ON IT??? In tears, I made myself an ice pack and curled up on my bed, waiting for the inevitable. Mom came home and asked me what was wrong. I told her I was stung by a bee. She asked if it hurt. I said a little. She asked if I put ice on it. I said yes. She patted my head and walked out of my room. I could not believe it. I was stung by a bee and about to die and my parents didn't even care. I cried and cried for hours, unaware that anaphylaxis is a pretty rapid reaction and that I was obviously NOT allergic to bee stings and I would indeed survive. I was honestly surprised to wake up the following morning. But I did, and I got on with my life. My parents were completely, blissfully unaware of my torment. My mom didn't even remember her casual warning about bee stings that embedded the terror in my young mind.
Another childhood misunderstanding of mine occurred when I overheard my mom and my aunt saying something about my other aunt losing her baby. I stopped, turned to my mother and asked, stunned, "Carol
lost her baby???" As calm as could be my mom said yes. I asked where. She said at the hospital. I asked how big the baby was. My mom held out her cupped hand and traced a circle in her palm and said, "about this big." I was shocked. Sickened. Disturbed. As much at the apparent lack of concern for
a tiny baby lost at a hospital on the part of my mom and my aunt as I was at the fact that
people at a hospital could lose a baby! The unspeakable horror and gross negligence of doctors and nurses who actually lost a baby! And yet, here they were, speaking of it. Casually, even!
I walked away from the conversation in utter bewilderment and horror, with thoughts and visions of this teeny little baby that would fit in my mother's palm being accidentally tossed in with the dirty sheets at the hospital, or taken out with the cafeteria trays. And lost. And everyone just sort of shrugging their shoulders as if that sort of thing happened all the time, and oh well, she'll just try again to have another baby. Those images popped into my mind periodically until I actually heard and understood the term "miscarriage" and connected the dots.
Back to my kid. He is afraid of dying. He is afraid of losing his grandparents. I try to comfort him by telling him that he will live a long time if he takes care of his body and follows rules to keep himself safe, healthy, and strong. I try to comfort him by telling him about our concept of eternity, that we will get to live with our family forever and we will see each other again after we die.
I know he doesn't quite get it, and it is a very difficult and abstract concept even for adults to comprehend. Still, he tries to relate it to what he understands. He asked me where we go to wait for our families. I said heaven, knowing that word is inadequate for his little mind.
Where is heaven? he asked. I'm not exactly sure, I told him, but it is a place where our spirits go after we die.
Is it like space? he asked. Kind of, I said.
Will we come back to earth? he asked. And,
What will we do in space?
I wanted the conversation to end because I didn't want to fill his head with weird images that he wouldn't understand, and because I don't even know the answers to all his questions. It didn't end. This was after Easter, so I talked about resurrection and I told him that our spirits will be back in our bodies again and we will be able to live on Earth with our families forever. Ugh, I thought. My poor, inquisitive kid.
Will I still look like me and will you still look like you after we come back from space? he asked. I told him yes, confident at least in that answer.
Will I still be a kid when I come back from space? I like being a kid, he said.
I wonder what pictures are in his head. I imagine him imagining us rocketing from planet to planet in flying saucers while we are in space waiting to get our bodies back. I know my mom was surprised and amused when, as a grown-up myself, I told her about my childhood interpretations of allergic reactions and miscarriages. I wonder what Nicco will tell me when he grows up a little bit and can articulate his childhood interpretations of heaven and the afterlife.
And I hope I haven't scarred him forevermore.
