Our family went to a memorial service for a loved one recently. Shortly thereafter, Snook had a really bad dream about another loved one (a non-surfer) dying in an awful surfing accident. Both of these events must still (understandably) be weighing heavily on her mind, because she bombarded me with these questions last night (most of which I was not at all prepared to answer):
I'm going to live forever, right?
No one who lives in my house, you, me, Dashy (aka Bubs), or Dada is ever going to die, right?
What does God look like?
But what does God look like?!?
What's under our house?
But that's not where we go when we die, right?
Bad dreams are the ones that don't come true and good dreams are the ones that do come true, right?
My bones are under my skin, right?
But if I got a really bad boo boo, I would see my bones, right?
I don't want to see my bones.
Heavy. Not sure that I'm up to this. It might be time for some churchin'.