Theology and Three-Year-Olds

This week our church is having its annual Vacation Bible School. It's the first year that Tee is old enough to attend, and in an effort to have summer be as normal as possible, I sent her. The three-year-old program seems simple enough: some stories, some games, a little arts and crafts, and some music. All centered around the theme (at least from what I can gather) that God is always with us. And He loves us.

The church's staff and volunteers have done an amazing job putting together an appealing and exciting curriculum to introduce these simple truths at an age-appropriate level. But due to recent events, my three-year-old is asking questions that theologians spend a life time discussing.

I consider myself pretty adept in this field. After all, this was my major in college. I was starting the grad school application process when I became pregnant with my first daughter. And I cherish the time I get to spend in prayer and Scripture study, both individually and with others. What I'm saying is I can discuss spiritual matters, even with those who don't share my faith. But my three year old is stumping me. How do you respond to an exchange like this?

Tee: Mommy, God loves us right?

Me: Yes.

Tee: Is God happy?

Me: Yes, God is happy.

Tee: Are there two gods?

Me: No, there is only one God.

Tee: No, there is a happy god, and a mean god who took Mammah away.

How do I explain to a three-year-old that God in His mercy and love took her Mammah home to heaven? I don't understand His purpose or His timing, but a life time of walking with the Lord has shown me that all things work according to His purposes. I have seen examples of that time and time again. And I know one day, probably after I get to heaven, I'll understand this too. But how can I explain this to my daughter? Especially, when she's pretty sure she doesn't want to go to heaven.

More thoughts from a grieving three-year-old

Tonight we attended a vigil for my mother held by the students, parents, and staff at the middle school where she worked. Many people got up and shared how much they loved my mother. And while I knew many of the people she worked with, I had no idea the degree to which they loved her.

The best words of the evening, however, came from my daughter. We had told her that we were going to Mammah's work (a place that she has been many times) to remember Mammah with some of Mammah's good friends. As we got out of the car, and she recognized that this middle school was indeed the place she had often visited Mammah, she exclaimed, "Is this heaven?" It may be the first and the last time that anyone has confused a middle school with heaven.