The God of My Small Thing

One of the best gifts I give myself is one-on-one time with Little Sis, who expresses exhilarated bliss at having me to herself and babbles joyfully in thoughtful, inquisitive, and reflective monologues. 

Little Sis has been thinking a lot about God lately, and running her thoughts by me.  My best role here is Listener as she poses and answers her own questions and develops and modifies independent understandings. 

Here's a transcript of some of Little Sis' musings on the Maker; I'm leaving my responses out, so imagine me, nodding here, cocking my head there, and asking a few clarifying questions as she works out the mysteries of the universe...and pays tribute to her grandma.

Do you believe in God, Mom? Little Sis asks as I roll enchiladas.

I'm just not sure I do.

I don't think God created the world; I think the world made itself.  Also, didn't God die, and if he was really a god, how could he die?

A girl at school told me if you don't believe in god you will die when you're a child.

But I don't believe that.

I told her that's not true because I know people who don't believe in God and they're not dead.  Some people in our family believe in God and some don't. 

Do you think Mammom believes in God, Mom?  Little Sis asks as she scooters alongside me on an evening walk. 

I might ask her, but I don't know.

I am not sure I believe in God.  I think he died.  You know, up on those sticks?

And I don't think God can make dead people come back, because when people die they can't come back.  I mean, why would he make his son come back and not Grandma Shirley?

I don't get that.

That wouldn't be fair. 

But if Grandma Shirley did come back, it would be so wonderful; we could go to her house and swim with her and play with her toys. 

That would be great, Mom.