Malone has a difficult question of faith to answer
The five year old wakes me up with: “When is the world going to end?” I’m so asleep I’m not sure where I am, who she is and what is this world she talks of? I am currently dreaming about being a worm. “It’s not going to end,” I reply.
It’s hard enough being five, without the conceptual concerns of ancient propaganda.
I ask her where this question comes from – she says she thought of it herself. Later on this day she asks: “Mummy, is God true?” I say, “Well, some people think he is, and then some people don’t. And lots of people believe there are many different gods and believe very much in their own god. Which can cause a lot of arguments, like when you like Jammie Dodgers and someone else likes Digestives.” Sitting on the fence hurts. I’m tripping over in my own circles of flowery metaphors. Do I tell her there is a God and that he looks after her? (Which will then start new questioning I can’t answer). But then when she reaches a certain age she can renounce faith herself? Or do I bring her up to believe her own beliefs about why we are all here losing out in the safety net of ‘faith’ during childhood. Perhaps believing in God as a child is comforting? Comfort in a big world where nothing yet makes sense. But then I am not aligned to any religion so how would I guide that?
“Perhaps believing in God as a child is comforting?”
Maybe growing up just believing that the trees, earth and stars are real and Mummy looks after me is enough. Or am I letting her miss out on the magic of childhood? I’m the kind of person who feels weird lying to her about Father Christmas. I feel uncomfortable lying to make things magical, which one day she will know were ‘lies’. People say it’s okay to be disappointed about Father Christmas, because you had years believing in the magic.
Am I so removed from being a child that the magic doesn’t seem to levy the being lied to? Do I need to get in touch with my inner child more? Tonight I might eat a yoghurt with a straw. I believed in God when I was a child, my parents were brought up believing in Jesus. They didn’t christen me though as my dad has been raised Catholic and my mother Church of England, believing organised religion was corrupt, but even in death I could see my dad’s ingrained belief in heaven.
Faith is important, especially in hard times. Faith doesn’t have to be a organised religion, just believing in something can get you through it. I like to believe everything is for a reason and I am evolving as a soul with every challenge, that helps me in dark times. The world better not end or I will rock my child’s faith! “You lied, Mummy!”
Illustration: Jake McDonald www.shakeyillustrations.blogspot.com
