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.Our wee grandson doesn’t do social-media or news-sites.  When he is allowed a “tabet” he enjoy cartoons on YouTube.  A particular favourite is toy cars and lorries ending up in puddles and pools.  I have no idea why.

Christmas Day.

We spent yesterday with him and his parents – our daughter and son-in-law.  They are in the middle of moving house and have paperwork glitches now quickly escalated into legal problems.  Legal problems cost money and stress and time.  They are also expecting a second wee one into their family in early 2021 and the growing “bump” is more and more active.  So along with trying to pack up their house, kit-out an expected new one, look after a growing wee one, hold down full-time jobs working from home and dealing admirably with “legal problems” – it was a wonderfully surprising and very relaxing day yesterday.

Christmas Day.

Rona is a thing. Now part of everyday life.  Rona didn’t get a mention the whole day yesterday.  Nor did the baby Jesus or God.  God is also a thing.  Has been all my life.  Just as Rona often seems.

It was a peaceful relaxed and fun day yesterday.  We only spent it together because we have a childcare bubble.  We have to plan our holidays around childcare.  Childcare that has been an exemption to the rules.  Childcare that has kept me balanced and grounded.  Allowing living and daily life to be far more normal than for so many.

That excited knock knocking on the door each day … clutching a toy figure he has picked up to “show and tell” us … and the little squirming hug and cuddle … then the “Dah … Dah … ” all day long as he calls for my/our attention for yet another game – yet another wonder – yet another moment of awe … And the cuddles and kisses –

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All taken for granted before Rona.  And which we now value almost above all else.  Physical contact and proximity denied to so many yesterday.  This ongoing political and scientific bid to contain the virus – to control the virus – to beat the virus.  This virus that thrives on our need for community, proximity and touch.  Evolving and mutating as it goes.

Our wee grandson has a sense of some of this.  Back in April when we were taught to fear each other.  Taught that to come close – to even dare touch – would mean likely death.  Even proximity and touch from this innocent two-year old whose only thought was excitement at seeing Dah and Nana.  Who was taught not to come close or touch Dah and Nana.  Who learned well –

But who never lost that silent confused sadness of eyes and demeanour.

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An innocent who never was this silent assassin we were taught.  A virus that does kill but not with the certainty we all assumed.  And now we learn we can be carriers and “sufferers” without ever knowing.  Now the political and scientific challenge is to make us all take it seriously.  Seriously enough to prevent this virus spreading unchecked.

Yesterday reminded me of something else.

That I was taught God was to be feared.  That He is detached and omnipotent (but not?).  That I must worship and serve.  That I must take God seriously. I must be respectful and in awe.  That God created me (even though He carelessly (?) allows that sin gene to remain in me).  I was taught my job is to take God seriously.  Taught that I am flawed and imperfect compared to this perfect loving (detached but not) God (who seems to need me to do all this religious church bible stuff to be worthy of His love).  My go-to image-memory is lying prostrate at God’s feet worshipping his toes and nail clippings (yeuchh!!).  But NEVER looking God in the eye because that was certain death (and if not – then certainly me being very disrespectful)!

I learned how much a lie that is for me.

Back in April when I looked at our two year old grandson as the bringer of my death, when we had to stay apart, when we couldn’t touch – or even touch a surface either one had touched.  I learned that his look of silent sadness and confusion was our creation in him.  I learned that all he brought was love without condition.  Even in his confused sadness.  He IS love without condition.  That there is no other kind of love when you are two years old.  Before we teach that love IS conditional . That love IS transactional.  That love is “four biblical kinds” of love.  And teach Love is to be debated and picked-over – treated as an academic ism and ology curiosity.   And lose my belief in my capacity for love without condition now and always.

I see parallels. 

Between Rona now and my teaching of Rona then.  Between God now and my teaching of God then.  Between Love and this obsession with biblical correctness.  And the oneness of a two-year old and God Soft Hands Jesus.  Of heart rather than bible.  Of Love rather than biblical correctness. Of Love that isn’t  four or even six words.  Love that is never transaction.  Love that is.  Love that is bigger than the bible, religion, church and biblical correctness.  Love that is bigger than me and you.

Love that is as big as a two-year old.

Who knows nothing other than Love. Who is sad when kept apart.  Who is confused when we make love complicated.  Who speaks-whispers in language we don’t understand apart from the odd word.  Yet a language we understand perfectly when we touch and are close – when looking into each others eyes is undiluted joy – when fear isn’t even a thing.

Ever. 

Happy Boxing Day.

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