The Question: Conclusion

   Death was not a taboo subject in our home.  We had lost loved ones over the years and our children walked alongside us through those times, attending funerals as we did.  Each of these instances provided teaching moments for us that we used to talk about our belief in Christ and understanding of death as a doorway to true life.  We had taught them that faith in Christ was the only answer to a fear of dying.  Over time each of them had come to a saving knowledge of who Christ is and what He had done for them.

   The question that he posed that day brought me to a crisis of faith.  Did I believe what I had claimed all these years?  Or was my faith a simple platitude to an electrical impulse of my own brain? In the time that it took to inhale, my faith was solidified. At that moment, it was tested and my heart answered rock-solid.  I DID believe what I had claimed to believe and for the first time I, ALONE, had to stand on that faith.   

   I looked directly at him and began.  I told him that eventually everyone dies, but that I was not going to leave one second before I was “supposed to.”  God knew when that moment was, so it wasn’t ours to worry about.  I asked him, “When I die…where am I going?”  He answered, “Heaven.”  I asked, “How do you know that?”  He said, “Because you asked Jesus to come into your heart.”   I watched as a look of concern on his face was replaced with a thoughtful gaze.  I knew then, that the same Heavenly Father that was speaking peace to my own heart was doing the same for him.  “What do you think I will be doing in heaven after I die?” And with the sweetest grin he answered, “Waitin’ for me.”

The Question

   He lay at the foot of the bed staring intently.  Unaware, I had been absorbed into the books that were scattered about me.  Just a few years earlier I had learned about this very thing and I was desperate to refresh my memory. In my quest for information, I had not noticed that his full attention was on me.  I peered around the edge of the book, that I had propped upon my chest, and with the straightforward innocence of a child he asked, “Are you going to die?”

   For a moment the air left the room.  There it was…the question that had yet to be voiced.  It had been a grueling few weeks of tests, doctors’ appointments, and hospital stays. With a definitive diagnosis in place, the news had come as quite a shock.  The whole experience had been surreal.  One day I had walked into the hospital perfectly healthy, and the next, I had walked out gravely ill. 

   Just the day before, the doctor had stood at the foot of my hospital bed and asked if I understood the seriousness of my condition and the reason for the rapid pace at which testing and treatment were being implemented.  I nodded without speaking.  It was not lost on me that she turned to the nurse and asked her to draw up my discharge papers so that I could go home and spend time with my family.  And now the question that had tip-toed around the edges of my mind, had been asked aloud.

   He had just turned 10.  He was the sensitive one, the thinker.  And now, I knew he was worried.  The one thing in this ordeal that I had been adamant about was normalcy for my children.  Despite my efforts, he had sensed trouble.  And now, how could I possibly answer a question that I was asking myself?

Be Careful...Your Sins Will Find You Out: Conclusion

...Today that memory is tucked away in a place that my family visits ever so often for a good laugh.  In fact, it has become so benign that my mom jokingly tells my children that when I was little, I was NEVER disciplined.  On the contrary, my back side has a completely different recollection.  The consequences of that day were great for both of us.  The physical effects of discipline included a “good scrubbing” to remove the paint from our skin.  We lost our new shirts, as well as, my most prized possession -  white majorette boots with tassels.  Yes, they were painted, too.  More heart wrenching than any of these, was the utter disappointment I saw in my mother’s eyes that day. We had brazenly disobeyed our dad and her.  Even so, the unconditional love that she had for us was evident in her care.  We were still her children and she loved us more than her own life. 

   I have often thought back on that day and am struck by the similarities in my own journey of faith.  Because of my willful disobedience, sin had left a horrible stain that made the black paint on my skin, clothes, towels, and floor-- pale in comparison.  The day I trusted Christ as my Savior, and asked His forgiveness for my disobedience, I was made clean.  The perfect, spotless Lamb was the sacrifice for my sin, as well as, the sin of all people. Although I often fail to live up to His perfect example, His unconditional love is evident in my heart.  And it is on those days, I am thankful He does not wield a switch.

Isaiah 1:18 “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow…”

Be Careful...Your Sins Will Find You Out: Part III

...Woo Hoo!  I could hardly wait as I walked across the yard to the house.  For convenience sake, it was suggested that I enter through the front door for quick access to the bathroom.  Not wanting to waste one second more than necessary, I pushed through the door and headed into the house.  Thank goodness Mother had recently purchased new towels and had hung them on the rack just inside the bathroom, this made clean-up much easier.  I grabbed the first towel and went about the work of getting rid of the paint.  It was then that I noticed it was not coming off my new shirt easily.  The second towel would do the trick.  I was on a time crunch to get back out to the shop to finish the game, so I quickly grabbed it, as well as the matching washrags.  And then, I heard the footsteps.

  I am not certain if it was the horrified look or the startled gasp that escaped her mouth that brought a moment of clarity, unlike any other, to my five year old mind.  At this point, my memory goes somewhat fuzzy.  It is possible that I swooned.  It was an instant of stark realization of what I had done coupled with the understanding of what was about to take place.  Although this was our first foray into the game of “Frankenstein”-- it was not our first foray into “Big Trouble.”

  Because of past experience as well as those subsequent, it is with great certainty that I can say it went down like this.  We ended up in our parents’ room sitting together on the cedar chest until our punishment was meted out.  We were left to consider our actions.  Instead, we used the time to accuse each other for causing whatever we were facing.  Then it was time…a date with the executioner.  She stepped into the room.  With sure footing and graceful arms, she wielded her switch like a Ninja master.  And I am almost certain she never even considered the  self-esteem of either one of us…