Last night, Lucie and I brought dinner to a church family whose grandfather had passed away recently. Lucie felt very sad that someone had died, but was happy to assist in the pasta making and even offered to make a second batch just in case anyone else should die. She even helped to deliver the meal, and this is the trail of her mind on the way there:
"How did that man get to heaven? Did he walk or have to drive? Maybe he flew there with angels. Where do you hold on to the angels while you are flying so that you don't fall off? My would like to fly with those angels! Will God be at the house we are going to? Did God drive there? Which car does God drive? If God is there, my is going to be shy. I sure hope God likes this pasta. When my grow up, my am going to be a cheerleader so I can kick my legs and twirl my short skirt."
And on, and on, and on.
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