I have these two ceramic statues resting on the headboard of my bed. They connect me to a dear departed aunt who was really into that whole ceramics thing of the '50s and '60s. She passed away last month at almost 100 years old, leaving much more than her ceramics as a legacy - five generations of beautiful people.
Sophie seemed quite taken with the two little busts during her sleepover. The following theological discussion took place.
"Babci, is this Mary?"
"Yes, it is. She was the mother of Jesus. And this is Joseph (my mistake), her husband, who took care of Jesus."
Sophie, contemplating, "Weren't your mommy and daddy named Mary and Joseph?"
Babci, flattered that she remembered, "Yes, sweet pea, they were."
Sophie, bright smile, "So Mary and Joseph are Jesus's parents and yours too!"
We both laugh at her clear, uncluttered logic. I share that I always liked the fact that my parents were named Mary and Joseph. Then I realize I've misnamed the statue.
"The man is really Jesus, not Joseph."
"Oh no, let's keep him as Joseph, your daddy."
Maybe she's on to something. Having Jesus as a brother has suddenly taken on a whole new meaning.
I didn't tell her, but my daddy Joseph was a carpenter too.
8 comments:
Oh, so funny.
Oh, I knew you were special.
Thats Wonderful!
Wow! Having Jesus as a brother would certainly be hard to live up to.
"Hey mom, I just got an 'A' on my math test."
"That's nice dear, your brother just rose from the dead."
Still, it would have it's benefits. ;-) I am facinated to no end by Sophie's wonderful view of the world.
My goodness. My response to this one? GOD ANSWERS KNEEMAIL. Go see. Ha ha. Could not resist.
Love,
your daughter
I love reading your posts.. I have been reading you and Jenn for quite awhile.. I sometimes delurk but not often.
I love your post regarding your sleep over with Sofie.. it is was great!
I did delurk for a reason.. I got a tickle from your previous post where Jenn Learned you could bleed profusely.
My son about 3 years ago when he was 6 was out walking with me one day.. he was actually on his skooter and I was walking when he had a tumble. He skinned his knee a little and we were quite a ways from home and me being determined to raise a little boy who gets over skinned knees with a shrug kept on walking after of course veiwing the damage and notating that all bones were intact and the bleed was nothing more than a scrap.. this boy of mine that I wanted to be strong and tough.. SCREAMED at the top of his lungs with tears running down his little face.. DON'T LEAVE ME .. I AM GOING TO DIE.. I AM GOING TO DIE.. I AM BLEEDING PROFUSELY-ER!!!
there was actually a slight pause between the LY and the ER as if in correction the poor baby.. I was then the one crying.. tears were running down my face out of sheer laughter..
I think I might be a bad mama.. sigh..
if you are interested.. email me and I will share the assorated chocolate story.. where my kid gets this stuff is BEYOND me..
The stories of Sophie are such a breath of fresh air when dealing with a 9 year old BOY.. LOL
aburroughs@wildblue.net
Geo, I love your take on the subject!
Jenn, you irrverent child, you. Still "signed and sealed" in my own mind though.
Ann, wow, your sharing has led to the inspiration for my next entry. Check out "Falling".
Thanks everyone for stopping by!
Good words.
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