Awestruck— she listened as I held her and told her the story of Jesus dying on the Cross for Grandma, Pop-pop, her, Isabella, Nana, her parents, and the world. She listened. Then came the question, “Why, Grandma?” I spoke in simple terms. “Because we are dirty; our lives are a mess.” (She understands “dirty” and she understands “mess.”) …”Jesus needed to clean us up.” “Why, Grandma?” “Because we come from God in heaven and before we go back to him, we need to be cleaned up.” It was quiet. She looked and looked and looked— awestruck at the window, awestruck at the story, both? I don’t know. It was hard to take her away from the window. We both wanted to stay— me, to pray for her, she, because I held her, because the light was shining beautifully through the window, because she understood a little of what I said? I don’t know. And then the question— mine, this time. “Would you like to know more about the story?” No nod; she was still transfixed, so I decided, carried her to the resurrection window while she looked back at Jesus on the stained glass Cross.
© 2003 by Barbara R. Williams-Hubbard