Thursday, January 10, 2008
I was always snatching pictures of my daughter, even in her choir robe. She enjoyed church—thank goodness—for its social outlets and not for the cult like lure religion can be. There are so many things in life I wish I could still teach her. I would love to tell her the story of Job. Again. That virtue is not always rewarded. That no matter how ‘good’ one is, one is never exempt from disaster, havoc, pain, or tragedy. I would teach her the awe of Job’s story. It is by far the best story. A good story.
But I’m so giddy because she enjoyed church for the girls, and the boys, and the dressing up. She loved to sing alto and was very serious during choir performances. She was excited about Sunday school and carrying her Bible and gloves. She had gum, pencils, a notepad, lip gloss, pictures, perfume and small tithes in her Sunday purse. She never allowed what others taught to be the gospel. She questioned everything, all things and refused to settle. She was the center.
My favorite time was seeing her pray with open eyes. I could never take my eyes away from her. Oh! To be so in love.