6

There is something amazing about age six.  Granted, I have loved every age Violet has reached (except 4.  4 sucks.), but this is a whole new level of amazing.

Until this point, it was like she was in training;  she was soaking up the world around her, learning how it worked.  There has been this switch where she no longer observes the world, but is an active participant.

She has these astounding thoughts that I end up sharing with professors, things I have to stop to think about.  In her world, things are black and white, yet colored with compassion and creativity.

Though I study religions, I have none of my own.  However, I was raised in a very conservative, very fundamental Christian household.  The Christian ascetic life is what I knew…I know.  It was torturous for me to embark on a intellectual journey that would lead me away from that.  So I don’t want to push my personal views on God, religion, the afterlife onto my children;  I want them to come to their own conclusions after learning facts and histories. 

So when the subject of God came up recently, I was at a loss.  She knows what my parents believe, but she wanted to know my thoughts.  Instead, I deflected it back to her.

“Who do you think God is?”

The thing about my girl is that she is not going to give you a stock answer.  She is going to think, consider, frame her response.  Simply infuriating when trying to decide what to wear in the morning, but phenomenal to watch in a religious discussion.

“I think,” she said, ”that God is something that takes care of people.  Like baby Hiram is our godbaby.  So, really, everyone is God.”

Good lord.  I had to digest the enormity of that statement, then discuss it with a woman who holds a master’s in Religious Studies…she was as blown away as I was.

Now, I am not stating anything about God.  Your beliefs are sacred, and should be respected.

But what really floors me about this statement is the concept of care, of spreading compassion and love to your fellow man.  EVERYONE should take care of someone, and so reasonably, EVERYONE is someone who should be cared about. Each person is worthy of love.

I love that she looks at the world this way, as a place of caring, compassion, and love. My girl, she teaches me things. 

And so she blogs.

I gave it up. I gave up the blogging. I couldn't tell you why, other than I was empty. I was trying to be fabulous for the ones of readers, and I had nothing.

Maybe one day I won't struggle with an emotional stasis. However, I don't really expect that.

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We are in another new city, another new state. I wonder often if we should have stayed in Alaska.

I do like our new city, Owensboro. A smallish urban center in north-western Kentucky. There is a small mall, museums, parks, Democrats. We have a two-bedroom flat in a group of buildings that houses many families. There are bike paths and friends for Violet and Carli. An oak tree beyond the balcony that is slowly turning orange. Three pumpkin patches within driving distance.

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The best feature is the distance to school. It only takes 4 minutes to drive to classes; 6 in traffic.

Jason is near the top of his program, Auto Technology. He doesn't take his General Ed Requirements seriously enough, but he doesn't really have to.

I do, though. The nursing program is highly competitive. More get turned away than accepted. The only way to guarantee the spot is a 4.0; so far, my 88% in math is cancelling out my 103% in Psych.

I'll get it, though.

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So, we are good. Happy, even. Dealing with Carli's lactose intolerance and Violet's minor sensory sensitivities. Collecting fallen leaves and painting window catchers. Budgeting 3 months of loan money to last 5 months and folding sweaters to earn money for Christmas. Driving through miles of fall foliage and evading conversations with my parents that steer towards politics or gay rights or wine.

And maybe, finding some time, here in my own space.

Fabulous Day 6

Windblown Sea Hair and a Handsome Husband.