Later, on our drive home from the beach, he tells me again. He wants to die and go to heaven. I feel like a terrible parent. One little conversation  and somehow I’ve taught my kid to want to perish. This can’t be good. I secretly hope he doesn’t say these things in public. I try to come up with a good response. And then he pipes up, because he’s eating his french fries and when he gets home, he wants to dip them in ice-cream, “Well, after I dip my french fries in ice cream, I want you and me and Hopey and Daddy…” and then he names several people that he loves… “I want us to die and go to heaven and see our surprises.”

I have to marvel at the kid. He’s so much like me. So, I pull the car into the garage and unbuckle his car-seat. I let him know that God will decide when we die and that’s He’s already numbered all our days and for now, He just wants us to enjoy this life. Because this life, while it’s hard, still it’s good.