Every Tuesday night, Lilly has religion classes. Now in second grade, she will make her first communion in the spring. Although she may not fully grasp what that means, she does understand one very important part. First Communion means she gets to buy a new white dress. She talks about it all the time.
"Daddy, when can we get my communion dress?" I saw a pretty one at Dillard's." She talks about shopping like she just got back from the mall with friends.
"They have one at Macy's too. That one is very pretty. I think it was seventy dollars. But it was on sale Daddy." Where have I heard that one before?
"Daddy, will my communion dress be white and long like my baptism dress? I want it to be just like a wedding dress."
A few weeks ago, I told her that she needs to learn the "Act of Contrition" or she won't be able to make her communion. I pulled out a printed copy and put it with her books in her room. I told her that we would read it each night after her prayers until she learned it. That first night, we read it together.
The next night, she told me that she wanted to read it herself, without my help. By the third night, she told me she didn't need the paper and she said it almost perfect. On the fourth night she did it. "Lilly! I'm so proud of you! How did you learn it so quickly?"
"I just read it to my stuffed animals each night until I learned it." Of course she did. It is amazing what she can accomplish when a dress is on the line! From this point on, she has been reciting the prayer like she has been saying it her whole life. And she does it with the same enthusiasm as she does with almost everything else. There is nothing monotone about her. She emphasizes words, she changes her inflection and she pauses for effect.
Religion class has been it's own series of ups and downs. One week, when I arrived to pick her up, she was sitting in the lap of her teacher. Her eyes were red, apparent she had been crying. Her teachers are a husband and wife team, so I asked the husband if everything was okay. He replied very sympathetically, "I'm very sorry about your wife. Lilly was telling us about her."
On the car ride home, I asked Lilly what happened. "I just miss Mommy very much. We were talking about heaven, and I just don't want Mommy there anymore." She was so sad and innocent as she talked to me. I listened a little longer and then helped her change the topic.
The following week, when I arrived to pick her up at class, I asked the teacher how everything went and he shook his head and told me that it was a little difficult for her today. He explained that Lilly was talking about her Mother, which made the other kids in the class start to ask her lots of questions. They decided to change the topic for the day and focussed the class on heaven and angels. I was a little embarrassed that they changed topics because of Lilly, but also pleased that they respected the kids enough to know that they needed to turn the conversation into a teachable moment.
On the ride home, I talked to Lilly about the class. She was very quiet about it. After some prodding, she began to open up about it. "Daddy, I just couldn't stop talking about Mommy. I know she is an angel in heaven, but did you know that Mommy WILL come back down from heaven?"
"She will?" I asked to keep the conversation going.
"Yes, it's true Daddy. Jesus said that everyone in heaven will come back down to be with everyone on earth. It's true Daddy, Mrs. Cindy (her religion teacher) said so." She was so excited in sharing this information with me.
"Well, that's right Lilly. We just don't know when that will happen."
"I know Daddy. I know when. It will happen when we least expect it!"
"That's right little one. When we least expect it."
A couple weeks before Christmas, Lilly and I went out shopping. Heading to Target, we were about to drive past the cemetery. It has become part of our ritual, that when we drive by without stopping, one of us usually reminds the other to say hi to Mommy. If it's nice out, we roll down the windows on that side of the car and give a healthy, "Hi Mommy", as we zip by. We have done this dozens of times and although most days, I'm reminding her, perhaps one out of every ten times, she beats me to the punch and reminds me to say hi as we are passing by. On this day, it was me telling her. "Lilly, get ready to say hi to Mommy."
Without hesitation, she responded. But for the first time, she didn't say hi. Instead, she said, "Daddy, I don't need to say hi. Mommy's sitting right next to me." A short pause and then, "Mommy is coming shopping with us, she loves going to Target with me."
Lilly is so serious and confident when she makes comments like this, that it is hard to dispute her. Her connection with Lori remains as strong as ever and I couldn't be any more proud of her for keeping this open relationship with someone she does not see or talk to every day… unless of course…. she does.
So on December 21st, when Lilly sprang out of bed and ran into my room to get me up, I wasn't surprised by her energy and enthusiasm. It was her first day off for the Christmas break and I expected her to have an extra bounce in her step. What I didn't expect, is what would be on her mind at 7:30 in the morning.
"Daddy, get up, get up! Mommy is coming down from heaven today!" She was loud, excited and very matter of fact.
"I don't think so Lilly." I tried to be truthful without breaking her spirit.
"It's true Daddy. It is true. Mrs. Cindy told me that Mommy would come back from heaven when I least expect it. And I do! I do least expect it today!"