Feelings
Thorns with my Roses
By Emmanuelle
“Tita, why do roses have thorns/” Joel, my eight-year old nephew asks me just now, a Palm Sunday morning, while we are both watering the garden. Actually, we are both playing with the hose, letting its sprinkle dance this way and there, daydreaming over the way water gathers as fat globules on the leaves, shivers, glistens for a minute of reflected sunbeam, then drips on its way down to the lower levels unto the ground, where it is sucked thirstily, greedily. Now and then, I wake up to realize I am supposed to be the far more responsible one, and I nudge his hand with the hose to the plant needing the most attention, the most drenching.
“Uhm, God made roses that way, to protect the plant, especially the flowers.”
Joel points out to the orchids with his chin. “Why didn’t God provide orchids with the same protection? Lola said they are more beautiful, more expensive!”
“Uhm, because orchids hang way up there? They don’t need as much protection as roses, do they?”
I am proud of myself. There is no better technique to deal with a suddenly cerebral child than to answer a question with a question. I let go of the daydreaming; this needs serious attention.
“Ah!” The child, bless him, quits early, seemingly content with the answer. I congratulate myself. I heave a sigh. I am not very good with these Questions and Answers or Tell Me or Why Games. Usually, I leave the encyclopedic job to the parents or the private tutor. My thoughts weave in-and-out with the threaded intricacy of feelings, not with the blunted edge of facts and figures. I whirl around to shut off the faucet that I may escape fast while the going is still good, but it seems I am not too fast this time.
“Tita, Teacher said God sent Jesus to save us from our sins. God loved us that much?”
I turn the faucet off, start fussing with the hose. “Uhm, God loved us so much He sent His son Jesus to redeem man from original sin. You remember the story about Adam and Eve, the forbidden apple and the snake? “Careful. Can’t go deeper into this – a discussion on the theological concept of God, Jesus and the Trinity as One God. Leave that to the priest, or religion instructor, or church catechist. Too complicated, too much for too young a child.
He nods. He pats approval for the way I have snaked the hose into a neat coil. He follows me to my worktable, a spot under the cool shade of a nipa roof. He leans his elbows on the table, he fiddles with the pens and pencils.
“Why did God love us that much?”
“Why? Because He created us.”
Silence. He pinches a paper from the stack of writing materials. He starts making squiggles, round and round, up and down, side to side. At the same time, he can’t stop talking, asking.
“Teacher said all living things on earth are God’s creations, big and small. So we must not only be kind to other people, but also to our pets, and all other animals. God loved them too, as much?”
“Of course! Though, as man, we are special. God created us in His own image.”
At this, he looks up. “What do you mean? Like how much Dad and Mom love me because I look like them?” Hah! This child is smart. I can’t believe he is just being idly curious; I believe he is deliberately baiting me, lassoing me to a corner.
“Uhm, yes.” I better go simple.
“And so, God sent Jesus to be man, and as man, to experience death in the flesh. That man, God’s special creation, may be saved.” Hah! He is slipping! He is now showing basic knowledge and awareness of biblical history.
“Yup.” Simple is best. He can’t get me to go beyond that.
He looks down at his squiggles. Softly, he says “So, from Palm Sunday to Good Friday, we observe the days leading to the agonies and the cruxification of Jesus.”
“Yes, child.” Okay, I am getting better at simplicity. Let him do the talking.
“God really must have loved us to let His Son go through all those pains and sufferings, for us.”
“Yes, child.” Haha.
Suddenly, he drops his pen, He rushes to me; he embraces me tightly. He bursts into tears, he sobs out: “Tita, I am so glad neither Dad nor Mom is God! Tin (his little sister) stole an apple from Lola’s fruit tray which Mom forbade us to touch! Tin had taken only the littlest one, I give you my word!”
Innocence can be a pit of miseries to a child. Preach to them young, preach to them well.
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