For Whom The Bell Tolls

Our kids are pagans.  And I’m ok with that even if lately their questions are hitting the theology mark.  They ask about heaven and what do people do up there.  I am never sure how to answer that.  I’m not sure I believe in it myself but the boys know a few people who are Up There and I am not going to shatter their belief that their loved ones are having a great time sitting around on clouds, chatting and drinking wine.

We drive past our local church twice each and every morning on the school run.  This place has gone from being called The Tower to God’s Castle and lately Lovely Liam calls it A Hotel. 

I don’t bother to correct them.

On the way home, the bells are usually ringing as it is nine o’clock.  Then it is called The Bong Tower.

The other day, Shy Boy was outside playing in the dirt and he insisted that I take a photograph of his finished efforts “for Facebook.”

He was playing graveyards.

Keeping to the cemetery theme, sometime we need to stop at traffic lights at the cemetery on the way home from the afternoon school run. 

Shy Boy went through a fascination with the place and how you “get in there.”

Shy Boy:  What are those big stones in there, Mammy?

Me:  They’re called headstones, Iarla.

Shy Boy:  And when you die and go in there, you turn into one?

Me:  No, Iarla, they just mark the place where the coffin goes. (I keep this one simple.  Theology not my strong point.  Also don’t want to give him nightmares!)

There was silence as he digested this.  The lights changed and we moved on.

Shy Boy:  Gags has white hair, Mammy. Does that mean he’s old?

Me:  (On safer territory) That’s right, Iarla.

Shy Boy:  So he’s going to die soon, and go in there?

Me:  Eh, who wants a jelly?????????