We killed a bird yesterday.
As Jenna and I drove down our 4-mile country road into town, two birds were walking on the road. One flew away; the other thumped several times under our car. A conversation I hope not to forget:
J: What was that?
K: A bird, sweetheart. We killed the bird.
J: What happened?
K: I ran over it on accident. It'll go to Heaven now.
J: To Heaven, with Grandma?
K: Yes, baby, with Grandma.
A long pause ...
J: If it can't fly anymore, how will it get to Heaven?
Another long pause ...
K: Jesus will reach down his hand and pick it up and take it to Heaven.
J: Oh, and then the bird will fly up to God. Okay.
These questions get more intense as the days pass, making me realize what an impact I have on her with my answers and explanations. The beauty of children, I've come to learn, is that they take things at face value -- what you say must be the "answer," must be "right." Instilling in Jenna the power of spirit and love has become more challenging the older she becomes. I accept that challenge; it really has become a blessing.
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