Jesus respects me at a distance this I know

We went to our nephew’s baptism, and in the car Seven proclaimed

“FINALLY. I GET TO LEARN ABOUT JESUS.”

Historically, my personal Jesus-child-inquiry defense consisted of “I don’t know. What do you think?” Eventually Seven grew tired of my stonewalling and suspicious that I could be that much of a dunderhead to know absolutely nothing on any manner of subjects. So now when the boys ask me questions about Christmas, Easter, fish–and especially loaves–I respond directly with “I didn’t grow up with Jesus or loaves. Go ask your father.”

Husband is a progressive involved father in so many ways, but answering the boys’ tougher questions turns him utterly undie-bundly 1950’s throat cleary/eye-flinchy repressed male. As opposed to my straight-shooting “Go ask your father.”

Husband grew up with a lot of Jesus, but they parted ways in college. They separated amicably. Neither of them had much in the way of property to settle. Husband filed his CDs in his driver’s side sunshade, packed up his drum kit in the trunk of his Honda and headed West for The Rockies. All Jesus really wanted was a couple of Husband’s Phish CDs and one of his flannels for laundry day. I’m going to guess Jesus does laundry on Friday before sundown, since we can’t be entirely sure which Sabbath he observes. I wonder if he sees The Sabbath Queen at the laundromat, wearing one of the billion tie-dyes from millennia of summer camp lost and founds, laundering her white robes at the laundromat on Fridays too. I bet they play Mancala and eat Drumsticks.

Jesus and my acquaintanceship remains at the nod and smile level, rather than the chatty/huggy variety. I didn’t “like” his facebook fan page, he didn’t “like” mine, and we’re cool like that—kind of like my first college roommate.

Upon unpacking our clothes on dorm move-in day I told Angie she should feel free to borrow any of my clothing at anytime, to which she responded “I don’t really share clothes.” Oh-Kayyyyy.

Boundaries were set immediately, (for the best–she was really into pastels) and after one cursory walk down State Street mall together we never pretended buddies again. Just like Jesus and I—we have a mutual respect, we don’t share clothes, we do wish each other well. I’ll admit I was pissed for a while over Husband giving Jesus his very best flannel, but I grew up and realized Jesus should be comfy too. 

So lots of the Jesus 20 Questions in our home fall to me—the woman who did not know what a Jesus Fish was until college. Four wouldn’t get out of his bath that same night because he was “getting baptized.” Wondering if I have an Alex P. Keaton situation on my hands here with both boys, and if we need to start some serious Abraham/Moses/Yahweh name-dropping around here. Quick.

Jesus respects me at a distance this I know, because the new testament suggests he should…Sing with me!