Where Does God Live?

The Boy: “Where does God live?”.

Me: “I don’t know where he lives. Some people think he lives in the sky, some people think he lives in the stars, some people think he lives in the trees and the oceans and the earth, some people think he lives in the moon and some people think he lives in your heart. Where do you think he lives?”

The Boy: “I think he lives in the stars. That’s where I would want to live.”

I have absolutely no idea where this question came from today. We are not a religious family. I’ve never been baptized and neither have either of our children. I mean I went to Catholic school for first through fifth grades, and I went to youth group in high school (solely for the friends, not the church) and was one class away from a religion minor in college (solely from an academic point of view, I loved studying the mythology behind religion), but that is the full extent of my religious involvement. I have always had a hard time with religion. I’ve grilled many friends into the ground about their faith and beliefs, many to the point where they just ended up yelling at me to leave them alone. I’ve read and researched and studied. I’ve tried to do religion. Because I would love to be a part of the community inherent in religion. And I would love to have the certainty that faith gives you; the trust. But it has always been a struggle for me.

The Boy went to a Jewish preschool for three years, but that is the full extent of his religious exposure. And this is the first time that he’s ever asked me about God or anything else religious for that matter. He started singing the Jewish children’s songs from the age of 2 and would re-tell me the stories he heard (particularly the ones with his name in them). But that was about it.

I find myself both grateful for and scared of this question. Scared that I will provide wrong answers. Grateful that I get another crack at understanding this level of faith through my son’s eyes.

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