Those end of the day, sun setting on the horizon, heat turned up in the car because shivering would use up too much energy, sleepy drives home from school are so often punctuated with sudden 'Oh, she's not asleep then' questions that are impossible for a tired, I've had a long day at work parent to answer.
Recently, I've jousted with -
The believing in heaven one was today's - we started with the usual what was good, what was bad about your day questions which usually elicit an answer where the long-ago-discarded how was your day would at best receive a bored "Okay," at worst be met with a grunt or a disdainful shrug.
... can a shrug ever be anything other than disdainful? If only I could have shrugged off the heaven question.
It reminded me of this oft encountered sign on my regular dog walk - walk on or go straight up to heaven ...
Littlest clearly had made up her mind about heaven. But she is little and impressionable and I adhere to the policy that as a parent it is best not to say what my beliefs are because belief is personal and individuals need to evolve their own belief systems rather than be influenced or manipulated by others (however well intentioned the others might be. Or not.) So I squirmed. She pushed. I tried to define heaven - what is it? Why is it something that people might want to believe in? What happens to us when we die? She had answers to it all - it's a place that it's comforting to believe in if you are about to die, where entry is decided by God and depends on whether you have been good enough in your life.
Which reminds me, all this arose because she had just recounted how someone had been cruel today and made another child cry. And I had suggested that it's useful to imagine that everything you say is being filmed and to stop for a moment to consider if you could justify what you are about to say in the future. That reminded her of the questions asked at the pearly gates. And thus the question about heaven. My fault I think. Size six shoes straight into the hole that I had dug.
She doesn't believe in any of it. The heaven stuff. She thought the imagine-you're-being -ilmed suggestion was a good one.
So what did she think happens when you die? Basically, 'you're no longer alive, you can't think, can't feel, can't be sad because, just like it was before you are born, you don't exist.' This idea of nothingness doesn't frighten her. She wasn't convinced that anyone might be frightened. 'It's nothing and you can't be afraid of nothing.'
Pushed to breaking point, I gave in. No, I don't believe in heaven either. I adhere to the Nothingness Theory of Littlest but not in an absolutest way. If we create good memories with those we love then our 'spirit' (if you want to call it that) lives on - in and with them - and I can't think of a better 'heaven' than that.
Recently, I've jousted with -
- Do boys pick their noses in front of girls on purpose?
- If you have food allergies does that mean you can't have babies?
- Why is it okay to shave under your arms - when you have hair to shave under your arms - but not okay to shave any 'southern' hairs? ... Yep! Southern is an exact quote. I couldn't have made that one up. Actually, in case you were wondering, I didn't make the others up either.
- Do you believe in heaven?
The believing in heaven one was today's - we started with the usual what was good, what was bad about your day questions which usually elicit an answer where the long-ago-discarded how was your day would at best receive a bored "Okay," at worst be met with a grunt or a disdainful shrug.
... can a shrug ever be anything other than disdainful? If only I could have shrugged off the heaven question.
It reminded me of this oft encountered sign on my regular dog walk - walk on or go straight up to heaven ...
Littlest clearly had made up her mind about heaven. But she is little and impressionable and I adhere to the policy that as a parent it is best not to say what my beliefs are because belief is personal and individuals need to evolve their own belief systems rather than be influenced or manipulated by others (however well intentioned the others might be. Or not.) So I squirmed. She pushed. I tried to define heaven - what is it? Why is it something that people might want to believe in? What happens to us when we die? She had answers to it all - it's a place that it's comforting to believe in if you are about to die, where entry is decided by God and depends on whether you have been good enough in your life.
Which reminds me, all this arose because she had just recounted how someone had been cruel today and made another child cry. And I had suggested that it's useful to imagine that everything you say is being filmed and to stop for a moment to consider if you could justify what you are about to say in the future. That reminded her of the questions asked at the pearly gates. And thus the question about heaven. My fault I think. Size six shoes straight into the hole that I had dug.
She doesn't believe in any of it. The heaven stuff. She thought the imagine-you're-being -ilmed suggestion was a good one.
So what did she think happens when you die? Basically, 'you're no longer alive, you can't think, can't feel, can't be sad because, just like it was before you are born, you don't exist.' This idea of nothingness doesn't frighten her. She wasn't convinced that anyone might be frightened. 'It's nothing and you can't be afraid of nothing.'
Pushed to breaking point, I gave in. No, I don't believe in heaven either. I adhere to the Nothingness Theory of Littlest but not in an absolutest way. If we create good memories with those we love then our 'spirit' (if you want to call it that) lives on - in and with them - and I can't think of a better 'heaven' than that.
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