We were sitting outside, feasting on pizza, enjoying the night and each other. Then two of the little girls made there way to do something else so I was left with one.
She is an incredibly cute seven year old with these eyes full of ... all of the emotions of life at the same time. She is also a talker. "She was born talking," her mother once told me. "She can't brush her teeth because she talks all of the time."
So we sat there and she looks at me with these huge questioning eyes which make me stare back into them.
"Mike, can I ask you something?"
"You can ask me anything baby?"
"What's a cunt?"
All of the air was immediately sucked out of the room. Awkward silence reined supreme. I wanted Scotty to beam me up. If there is ever a time for the rapture to occur ... this is it!
Back a thousand years ago when I was in college, I had the immense honor of taking classes from Dr. Delma Presley who remains an incredible influence on my life. Once he was lecturing about "Boundaries" and told the story of a small boy whose parents had taken him to the art museum. They made their way around until they got to the statues ... mostly nudes. The Mom and Dad were admiring the fine art until they turned and saw their son with his arms around the breasts of one. He was smiling as he caressed them obviously enjoying ... art.
Then Dr. Presley stopped and asked us, "What should the parents do?"
A chorus of "Grab the brat and spank him on the spot!" seemed to be the class consensus.
"Why? What was he doing wrong?" Dr. Presley asked.
Silence descended upon the room.
I remember sitting there thinking, "He's wasn't doing anything wrong. God made us this way and the gifts of creation are to be celebrated ... and enjoyed. The kid's got it right! We don't do enough of that stuff."
So I said as much.
Then the clever Dr. Presley asked, "So Micheal if the little boy was looking at a porn magazine, would that have been OK?"
The class laughed out loud as I turned red. Suddenly I hated Dr. Presley who stood there waiting, expecting an answer from me.
The truth is I didn't have one because embarrassment overtook me.
He laughed ... I'll never forget the sound of his laugh that day. I can still her the muffled, under his breath, eyes full of mischief, giggle.
"It's all the same right?" he finally said. "Why do we as a society repress or even deny the things that God made? Maybe that's why we must have faith like children to be accepted into the Kingdom of God."
I breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently I'd come down on the side of God ... the rest of the class was surely going to fry in hell.
Her mother looked at me and pointed at the child's crotch.
"Well," I explained remembering Dr. Presley's influence on my life, "Girls have them, boys don't but anybody can call somebody one."
This seemed to satisfy her and she ran off to play.
I wiped the sweat off of my brow and thanked Dr. Presley and God that (1) there was air in the room again (2) We could talk again (3) Scotty hadn't beamed me up and (4) that the Rapture will occur evidently when it's supposed on November something-or-another according to some news story I saw.
One of the things that I've come to love and appreciate in holiest and most meaningful of ways is the long, thoughtful and honest conversations that I have with my friends. There are no boundary lines. We are honest and just share it all, supporting one another through.
We spend too much time not answering life's tough questions, sharing them with others, being honest, and celebrating ourselves and others as God created us to be.
So I've told the story of her question multiple times already today, beginning with those I love the most and who love me the most. And we have laughed.
And is there any better way to begin the gift of a new dawn than with friends and laughter?
