Growing up, I was scolded for making spills.  My memories of those incidents were of being harshly reprimanded.  It felt like it was the worse thing I could've done, and I always felt so awful about dropping something, knocking something over, or making a spill.  Honestly, it wasn't until recently that I realized that when you spill something, you can just clean it up -- and it's really not a big deal.  That seems obvious, but when my baby first started being the author of spills, I had to tell myself that.  And now that she is older and I am giving her opportunities to work on projects with me, I remind myself that with a child, I should expect a mess.  And a mess is great because that means she is learning and participating.  We have fun working together and there is a great sense of accomplishment when we finish a task.  Why would I give that up just to avoid a little mess?

"Oh no!"  I heard Sam say while he and our preschooler went to look at the fish one morning.  I knew what it meant and was saddened when my fears were confirmed.  We had lost one of our fishies.  Our daughter is generally very perceptive to our comments and our moods.  There was no chance of hiding or disguising the situation.  And honestly, I had no plans to.  So I knelt down to her eye level and told her that the fish had died.  It wasn't swimming anymore.  It was gone.  At first, she didn't really know what it meant, so she just repeated what I said.  "It's dead?"  But when she began to really understand what it meant (the fish was just not moving anymore), she buried her face into my chest and said tearfully, "Whyyyy?"  With her voice cracking, my heart broke.  Though I know the theological reasons why, on an emotional level, I don't really know why -- and I wanted to cry too.  After I gave her a big hug and she started asking me why again, I tried to explain that every thing living dies.  I pointed to the roses that she and her daddy bought me and said, "See how the roses are brown now?  They died too."  She said, "She's not swimming anymore?"  And I said, "No, she's not swimming anymore." 

Later that day, we were talking to my mom, and I told my daughter to tell her grandma that we had just bought some fishies this week.  She informed, "We lost a fish.  It's not swimming any more."  That's when I really knew that she really understood.

Different parents have different philosophies when it comes to introducing the realities of life to their children.  For me, I realize that without understanding death, we will not really understand life.  This was something I realized as I read children's Bibles to my daughter which skipped over Jesus' death but illustrated the empty tomb.  I can understand the need to omit age inappropriate material, yet, the omission leaves a huge gap in the whole story.  Without referring to Jesus' death and why, the empty tomb leaves little impression.  To me, there's nothing more amazing than the heart wrenching fact that Jesus died and then the thrilling victory that Jesus came back to life again.  When we grasp the death, we truly have reason to sing, "Jesus is alive!  Oh, happy day!"  My daughter can sing those words now but one day, she will truly grasp how happy it truly is -- and not hiding the death of our fishie might lead her to just that.