I had a great time hanging out with Daniel. He's one of my verybestfriends that I met when I lived in El Paso. He lives out here now, a few 'burbs north of me. He's been married and divorced; the father of two lovely and bright children, one of whom is a daughter the same age as MLO. They get along famously singing their My Little Pony tunes, playing dress up and whatnot. They're the quintessential Two Peas In A Pod.
Daniel and I took our kids to play Lunar Minigolf at a local mall, then ventured to my favorite frozen yogurt place that's across the street from a park and fountain area. After finishing our yummy frozen yogurt, Daniel and I took the kids to the park area for them to run and play while he and I did some catching up.
Daniel's young son, a curious five year old, lost one of his flip-flops. The sun has set and the lighting is low along the benched areas. No telling where that flip-flop went. So, off goes Daniel, hunting a shoe with his little boy.
I'm sitting on the bench, alone, watching the goings-on, when the two eight-year-olds prance over to me with beaming smiles, palms filled with coins.
"Look at the money we found!" they beam.
I ooooh and aaaahh and then make a bit of a sad face, as it occurred to me that these were coins tossed in the fountain with wishes attached to them.
"I think those are people's wishes, baby," I tell MLO.
She realizes what I'm saying is probably true.
Her friend settles into that realization as well, but she's ever-thinking. Emotion was fleeting at that moment. "Well. I'll put mine back if you put yours back."
I smile. I'm kind of proud of her for that!
MLO agrees and they talk about it all the way back to the fountain.
A short while later, they return with empty, damp hands, then go about playing other games.
Another short while later, MLO sits next to me on the bench and sneaks a nickel out of her pocket, "Don't tell her, mom. I saved this one for me."
I was a bit disappointed, but I also thought it was a little humorous. I did a silent chuckle inside my own head. "Secret's safe here," I assured her.
Finally Daniel and the boy return, both flip-flops accounted for, and I hand the nickel to the boy, "Go put this in the fountain. It's someone's wish."
MLO shoots me a pouty face and quickly gets over it.
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After saying our good-nights to Daniel and his kids, MLO and are reminiscing about her triple playdate day. The girl's dang popular these days, it seems. Anyway, one friend told her about the movie "Heaven Is For Real". Her friend said it was about a four-year-old boy who died, went to Heaven and was returned to life. MLO boldly stated she believed that that movie was a lie. Her logic: there's no way a four year old kid who hasn't lived much life would be able to give much to God. A kid who has lived a lot of life, like her, would have given to poor boxes, helped kids and stuff like that.
So I offered perspectives for her to consider: maybe God was using that boy as a messenger to teach someone something, in a way that only God and that person knows.
Nope. Not how God works.
Maybe the parents made choices that included the kid, choices on how to serve God, and he did so by accompanying his parents.
Nope. Not how God works.
She kept calling it a lie. I told her I accepted her opinion, and she needed to accept that her friend has the opinion that what happened to the boy is true. It's okay to disagree, accept the difference respectfully.
We arrive home, each of us changing into our jammmies. I settle on the couch to write a blog about the wishing well stuff, but hadn't opened my laptop yet. She comes out, her face heavy in sadness. I see she's been crying.
I quickly drop everything and open my arms wide to her, "what's the matter, love?? Why are you crying?!".
"Mommy. I'm afraid. I'm afraid God will think less of me because I don't believe that story!"
*melt*
Oh, my sweet sensitive babygirl -- how could God possible love her less?
I showered her with love and loving reminders, sewing together her sweet but broken heart. She curled up like an infant in my embrace and I tucked her messy hair behind her ears so I could see her tear-filled eyes. I consoled her the best I could, hoping that she would hear the words and reassurances, absorb them and feel calm. Eventually, she did.
"Mom, I'm going to go lay in my room and listen to my music on my iPod."
"Okay," I smiled, "I love you."
"I love you too."
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Place your faith somewhere, even in wishes.
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