Last Sunday morning over pancakes and eggs, I coached S about the change in priest that we would have at Mass that weekend.
Me (reaching for second – or was it third? – pancake): “S, remember what we talked about last week when we said goodbye to Fr. J? That we’re going to have a new priest at church starting today?
S (pausing mid-mouthful to consider the question with a giant grin): “Father…L?”
Me to S (floored that he actually remembered some shred of this conversation, as well as the new pastor’s unconventional name): “Woah. YES.”
Me to F: “This kid freaks me out sometimes.”
An hour later, S sat on the floor of his bedroom reading while F and I hustled around, getting dressed for church. I figured a little last-minute reinforcement of the new pastor’s name wouldn’t hurt any of us, so I asked again:
“So S, who are we going to see at church this morning?”
S (looking up from his book, matter-of-factly): “God.”
I glance up at F with the classic parental “the kid just said WHAT?!” look.
Me (more than a little surprised): “That’s right, S! We are going to see God at church. But who else?”
Ok, dang. I threw in the towel.
F later admitted to being concerned that S neglected the third person of the Trinity. Valid point. Poor Spirit; always getting third billing.
And I was concerned that I now needed to focus my theological training on teaching S that God is in fact everywhere and always, not just “at church.”
But still. The kid is picking something up, it seems. Which ain’t half bad.