On Easter Tuesday, my grandsons -- Curran, just turned 5, and Gavin, age 2 -- and I were returning from a trip to a local nursery with new plants for the garden.
We drove past Rosehill Cemetery, a lovely place made infamous by having Lee Harvey Oswald buried there.
As we passed by, Gavin looked out at the lush green grass and huge lovely trees and asked, “Is that a playground?”
Before I could say anything, Curran spoke up and said, “No, Gavin, that’s a cemetery. That’s where people drop off their skeletons on the way to heaven. You have your body in heaven, you know."
“Oh,” said Gavin.
“Oh,” said Grandmom.
There you have it -- death, burial and resurrection -- a five-year-old’s Eastertide message.
Quite a theologian. Thanks
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