|my youngest daughter putting flowers on the grave of my Great Uncle|
Last week we drove out to the cemeteries to decorate the graves of my grandparent's families. It was the first year we were invited to do this because usually, Grandma makes it a point to do it herself.
Grandma's health hasn't been the greastest. She's 93 years old, there's nothing medically wrong with her (as in a diagnoisis or anything) she's just old, and things are wearing out. She still made sure that the flowers were bought, and that someone was going to go decorate the graves. Since my mother is disabled and does not drive she asked me if I would mind running her, I asked if it was okay if I took the kids along. She said yes. I think these sort of things are important.
While we were there my older two starting asking questions. My eldest (the math wizard) started telling us at what age people passed as we walked through the stones. I showed him the grave of my second-cousin, whom he was named after and passed away when he was just five years old, that gave him pause. We talked about death, and heaven, and why we come to places like these to decorate and up the keep the graves. They were quiet, and respectful and when we left they thanked me for letting them come along.
It shocked me and I was proud of them for understanding.
We don't go to church, this is something we want to change but I'm still working through some issues with the idea of it and my husband wants us to go to a Catholic church but hasn't really made an effort to actually go. So we're sort of stuck in limbo. My kids know about God, as much as I've told them and they watch Veggie Tales but that's as far as it's gone. I feel stuck, and I need to pray about it.