Anyway, if you asked his mother, she would probably tell you that they are people of faith. They don't go to church regularly, but they believe in God, in being good, in helping your neighbor, all of that. I certainly don't think they are opposed to religion. In fact, they would probably call themselves Christians. It's just not a big priority for them.
Now a big part of my job consists of driving Charlie to the various places where he has afterschool appointments each week, so we spend a lot of time in the car together, he and I, going this place and that. Which can lead to interesting conversations.
And let me just say, children really are like sponges. They soak in and retain everything around them. I can't count how many times I've been off in la-la-driving-autopilot-land and Charlie has piped up from the backseat with some deeply thoughtful question or comment over a remark
just spoken on the radio. Which is why I've made it a conscious choice to keep my radio tuned to the Christian station anytime Charlie is in the car. It's "safe for little ears", as they say. But it's more than that, too. It's an opportunity, even if a small one, for the story of Jesus to reach his young heart and possibly take root there.
That hasn't happened yet, but we have had some pretty fun conversations, nonetheless. Like the one we had yesterday:
I was driving him home from school, and a particularly upbeat version of "O Holy Night" came on the radio. Something with drums and electric guitars and a lead singer with a cool, raspy voice. I didn't think anything of it at the time and didn't realize that Charlie had, either. He sat silently in the backseat throughout the entire song, forehead pressed to the car window.
Then the song ended, and he turned from his stare at the passing scenery to find my eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Meagan?"
"Yes, Charlie?"
"It's kind of weird to hear holy music turned into rock."
I was silent for a moment, digesting the comment. I decided to probe. "Why do you think it's weird?"
"Well, because it's holy music. I mean, it's holy. You're supposed to sing it how God would like it."
Now I smirked. "Oh," I baited him, "You don't think God likes rock music?"
He gave me one of those looks he gives people when he thinks they've said something stupid. I could tell that in his mind, God was old, and old people don't listen to good music. So I continued...
"Oh, I bet He does! After all, God created music. He's bound to have good taste."
Charlie's look told me he remained unconvinced. So I went on. "Plus, He's
God, so He deserves the very best right? I mean, if the President gets to have private concerts at the White House, imagine what God must get! I'd bet you He's got the very best bands of all time playing in front of His throne. And they're not playing lame-o harps, either. They play the good stuff."
Charlie laughed. But it was a happy laugh, not a sarcastic one. It was the kind of laugh that comes out of discovering a delightful new possibility.
He was quiet for another few moments before speaking up again.
"It's weird to think of angels playing electric guitars." I watched him grin as he pictured it. "Weird and cool."
"Weird and cool," I repeated with a smile of my own. My sentiments exactly.
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