One of the great joys of Preachers’ Camp is the interactions
between other adults and my girls.
To see one of them so comfortable in Anita’s lap …
or Don’s or Jim’s or Amy’s,
to see one of them snuggled in between Amy and Tony,
in deep conversation with Dorisanne or Russ—
so invested in having things to share with these important people,
being swung around on the porch or thrown in the lake down by the dock
by these they know to trust.
And I never had a need to know what they were doing.
Never wondered what they talked about with others.
In fact, I often found myself noting these interactions with appreciation
and then walking away, not wanting my presence
to in any way change the blessing in process—
the simple reality that they were being loved …
and my heart is still strangely warmed.
Christy did tell me about one conversation she had
with one of my pk’s (preacher’s kids):
“I think the Bible is make believe,” said my younger daughter.
“Well, one teacher tells me Jesus is Mary and Joseph’s son;
another teacher tells me Jesus is God’s son.
That doesn’t make sense so I think the Bible is make believe.”
“Make believe like Walt Disney?”
A thoughtful pause. “A little less than that.”
“A little less than that.”
I’m so okay with that. I love that!
And pray she grows into an ever deepening knowledge
of the distinction between the more make believe—
the fun and willing suspension of disbelief that will always enjoy
leaving this world for time in a world of
talking animals, witches, fairy godmothers
and enspelled princes and princesses,
and the more rigorous work of the less make believe—
having to make yourself believe
in love and grace and hope and God
all the while never leaving the reality of our world behind.