I posted this on Twitter the other day, citing it as evidence that I am obviously a worse parent than @jonacuff. He had written a post on his blog about those moments when you realize you are really screwing the pooch when it comes to the spiritual guidance of your own children. I could relate:
This is a drawing that my middle child made in Sunday School
when he was about 6 years old.
In my kid’s defense – that’s a weird header. “I can talk to Jesus about what He has done.” I’m not even sure what that means. And I’m really not sure what kind of picture you would expect a 1st grader to draw to go with it…. Ok, probably not a giant turtle with elephant legs and shark teeth biting off a dude’s head. But whatever.
Honestly? I love that picture.
Although, it’s not quite as good as the picture he drew of Jesus dying on the cross with two bush babies watching. That picture was epic.
Seriously. Like, bush babies!….
….watching Jesus get crucified with their giant eyeballs. Odd? Definitely.
Awesome? You bet.
Yet another reason for me to think my kids are more rad than everyone else kids? Of course.
Parenting is a funny thing. Since the very second each of my children joined us on the planet, I’ve been convinced that no human being has ever been born more amazing, and then I’ve worried about all the ways in which I’m ruining them. I’m pretty sure that the single best thing I’ve done for their future is to have supplied them with enough material to write a readable memoir, filled with the bizarre antics of their lunatic mother. But I especially worry about what a crappy job I’ve done pointing them toward Jesus. I worry that my own hypocrisy, combined with my occupation, will be enough to make them call bullshit on spiritual matters of all sorts. It makes me afraid.
My son’s church drawings don’t exactly help my case.
But maybe the God of murderous, wrinkly-kneed turtles, and wonder-filled bush babies could also be the God of distracted, cranky Moms who give their kids cereal for dinner and forbid them to wear socks in the summertime because why should she have to wash them and fold them and put them away when everyone can just wear flip-flops, thankyouverymuch.
What a funny picture that God could paint of this messed up life, redeemed.
Awesome? I think so.
Does this post even make sense? I think I shouldn’t write at night. I’m tired.
Isn’t that drawing SO great?! To this day, it makes me chuckle.