Too Grown Up, Too Fast

I never imagined you would be so mature so quickly. How can a four year old possibly wrap her mind around the eternal questions you have been considering of late. Ever since your Granddaddy died, you have talked a lot about the concepts of heaven and hell and death. You try to be a little consoler, reminding me and Grammy any time you can that when we see Granddaddy in heaven, we won’t be sad anymore. You like to describe in vivid preschooler detail how joyous that reunion will be. You say things like, “Mommy, I know you are sad now. But when you get to heaven you will hug Granddaddy so tight and you will be so happy. You should think about that Mommy, when you feel sad.” You tell Grammy you can see Granddaddy waving in the clouds, or blowing kisses to you both when you are driving in the car together. Once you even told Grammy that he told you to tell her he loved her very much. You talk to me about how much you miss him and how he is your favorite Granddaddy. We cry together sometimes.

You worry about these things too much. No child should ever have to question these kinds of things. You shouldn’t have to comfort me. You shouldn’t have to play the part of a little adult because the adults around you are so damaged.

My heart just constricts when I think about your premature concerns of your own eternal destiny. You worry that you “do too many bad things to go to heaven.” You have even started blaming yourself for your Daddy’s depression, saying if you weren’t such a “bad person” your Daddy wouldn’t be sad all the time…that he wouldn’t be upset. I tell you over and over again that these things aren’t true. I remind you that you have asked Jesus into your heart, that you know He died on the cross for your sins, and that He is alive. (Maybe I haven’t done a good enough job of letting you see how truly salvation is through Him, and Him alone – that our works, good or bad, do not determine our relationship with the Father. Is it a curse of our holiness upbringing that all our children live in fear of the rapture/death because they never think they are good enough?) And I adamantly tell you every time the topic arises that your Daddy’s illness has nothing to do with you. I’m not sure you are listening.

Instead you are probably taking in the tense, stressed out faces of your mommy and daddy as they deal with the symptoms of a mental illness that has already claimed the life of one family member. You watch Grandma and Granddaddy Bryan work a little too hard to keep everything appearing normal. You see through the façade of “everything is fine” when you visit Grammy’s house and instead pick up on the nearly suffocating grief that seems to permeate everything in that lonely place. Words of comfort mean little coming from adults who are searching for comfort and answers themselves.

I’m sorry you have to go through this period of confusion with us, little girl. I pray and pray and pray that you aren’t being irreparably damaged by it all. I pray for God to give me strength patience and wisdom to answer all your questions the right way, and to pick up on the things you aren’t saying too, so your fears can been diminished. Someday soon we will all feel secure again…the world won’t be upside down forever. I can’t wait for that day.