My six-year old got a neat “rainbow machine” for Christmas. When you press the button, this device makes a rainbow appear across the ceiling of the room from side to side, and since the holiday it has served as sort of a bedtime reading light for us. We keep it on while we read bedtime stories or talk about the day we just had.
Last night, my daughter (at age six mind you) asked me why God made things like tornados. "Well, crap! So it begins." I thought to myself. I gave the question my best shot.
When I finished babbling for what felt like two hours, she made her way over to power down the rainbow machine. As she did, the light of the rainbow flashed across her face. It moved from displaying all the colors on her cheeks, to a moment where it started powering down one color at a time. It ended on red and faded to black. In that moment, I saw an old divine promise shudder through her beauty and innocence. It covered over all my personal ineptitudes and theological misgivings. In that single instant, while the reds, yellows, and greens faded into the canvas of a tiny six-year old, I knew that there was nothing more to be said on the matter.
We both slept very well and awoke refreshed.
No comments:
Post a Comment