On a recent walk, my three-year-old daughter and I came across a dead opossum that had been killed by a car. My daughter was fascinated by the animal’s body and the drama of its demise. For days, the “opossum story” was told and retold. My daughter asked what had happened. She asked about death and whether all animals die. She asked if I will die. If she will die. So we checked out books from the library. We watched
Thank you for your thoughtful essay, and for the unexpectedly delightful accompanying artwork which at first glance surprised me, then learning about the project I found to be so inspirational. Funnily enough, just recently my 3-year-old granddaughter and I found a squirrel in the same circumstances. Our conversations took a similar direction, although I'm not sure I did quite such a good job of answering her as you did!
"Jesus comes back to a body. To pain and suffering. To fatigue, hunger, desire." Whait what? I'm confused. I thought when we get resurected we will be done with pain and suffering and all those annoying mortal things.
Thank you for the beautiful essay, Kristen. I, too, find it a struggle to witness the return, even the second coming. I believe it was promised, but find it hard to believe its promise. And, yet, I agree that there is more at work in the return than we at first imagine. Triumph, yes, but also solidarity with embodiment and the possibilities inherent in all kinds of farewells and see you laters.
Thank you for your thoughtful essay, and for the unexpectedly delightful accompanying artwork which at first glance surprised me, then learning about the project I found to be so inspirational. Funnily enough, just recently my 3-year-old granddaughter and I found a squirrel in the same circumstances. Our conversations took a similar direction, although I'm not sure I did quite such a good job of answering her as you did!
"Jesus comes back to a body. To pain and suffering. To fatigue, hunger, desire." Whait what? I'm confused. I thought when we get resurected we will be done with pain and suffering and all those annoying mortal things.
Thank you for the beautiful essay, Kristen. I, too, find it a struggle to witness the return, even the second coming. I believe it was promised, but find it hard to believe its promise. And, yet, I agree that there is more at work in the return than we at first imagine. Triumph, yes, but also solidarity with embodiment and the possibilities inherent in all kinds of farewells and see you laters.