Who's making all that noise?
Yesterday and the day before, we were on “granny duty”: Our lively 6-year-old twin grandkids were visiting so their stressed-out parents could get a little break from them.
Around noon, there was a violent thunderstorm, and while Aeryn continued reading her book on the sofa, completely unfazed, Elizabeth fled to us in the kitchen. She wanted to know if we had a lightning rod. “No, there are so many taller buildings on the street and even taller old trees—they’ll get struck first,” we assured her.
That didn’t reassure her much, so she tried a joke: “I heard that when it rains like this, it means God is on the toilet.”
“Or God is crying,” said Joey, who thought the equation rain = pee was too prosaic.
“And when it thunders, that means God is angry,” Elizabeth continued. And after a pause: Her mother (Joey’s daughter is a teacher) had told her that the boys believed God was a “he,” but the girls believed God was a “she.”
“And what do you believe?” we asked.
She thought about it for a long time. “I think God is a boy,” she finally remarked. So she, too, thought more of her own kind, but in a generational sense.
While outside the rain pounded harder and harder, the lightning flashed in ever-faster succession, and the thunder rumbled menacingly, a profound conversation unfolded among the women.
“I think,” I said, “it’s not God peeing and being mean, but Mother Nature cleaning up a bit. A little noisily, I’ll admit.”
“I think,” said Elizabeth, “Mother Nature is God’s wife.”
“Why?” we asked.
“Because if God is the father and we’re God’s children, you also need a mother. Mother Nature. And Jesus was her favorite child.”
“Yeah, he had some pretty good ideas,” we admitted. “But what if God is a she?”
“Then the parents are just two women, like with you guys. Everybody knows that girls can marry girls.”
We agreed wholeheartedly.
Aeryn had finished spelling out her book by then and joined us. She read it to us again. Then I had to read a picture book too. It was called Arthur’s First Kiss, by Marc Brown. Joey had picked up the book yesterday from the library, unsuspecting, especially for the grandkids' visit.
“Yuck,” I exclaimed when I had finished reading the book. “The book says it’s better for a boy to be licked by a dog than kissed by a girl.”
“Not yuck at all!” Aeryn protested angrily. And there was a little thunder again. Whether that was God the Father, angered by my remark, or Mother Nature letting out a hearty fart—who can say.
07/07/2008 14:53, Jacqueline
...ach liebe Luise, kam mir gerade so vor, als ob ich neben euch in der Küche stand und alles mitanhörte;o)
was ihr so alles macht! schön jedenfalls, das eure Engel so viel von euch mitbekommen, da wächst was gutes heran;o)
Hoffe es geht euch gut?! liebste Grüße Jacqueline
06/30/2008 11:31, Silke Gyadu
Hinsichtlich des Gewitters möchte ich an die römische Göttin JUNO erinnern, nach der der Monat Juni benannt ist und die auf die viel ältere etruskische Göttin UNI zurückgeht. Als “Königin des Himmels” schleuderte UNI Blitze (und donnerte vermutlich auch), wenn sie wütend war.
So einfach konnte in früherer Zeit die Erklärung von Naturphänomenen sein ...
Herzliche Grüße
Silke Gyadu
http://www.sonnengoettinnen.de
06/29/2008 17:20, Brigitte Menne
so schön unpädagogisch, so wahr und bezaubernd, was Ihre enkelinnen sagen. (ich erlebe ähnliches,z.B. sagt meine bereits mit zweieinhalb: die sonja ist NICHT dein schatzi, ich bin dein schatzi!) danke, liebe frau PUSCH!