"They shouldn't have eaten the fruit in the garden.
They shouldn't have done that."
She reminds me every day, and every day we read the story.
Adam and Eve in their perfect garden, walking with God in the in the cool of the evenings, until one day when the fruit was too good to be true.
Rori asks me to read that story to her every day.
And as soon as I've finished reading it, she'll ask for the other story. The story of Jesus.
The one where he dies on the cross.
The significance of her love for these two stories isn't lost on me - the moment Paradise was lost, and the moment it was saved; the glaring cost of free will, and the incredible power of submission; the story of God so simply told by two tales.
And as I've read them to her day after day, I've realized the power of allowing a story to sit with someone - to not push an agenda, or try to sway their thoughts - but to let them sit with all the pieces and watch them try to put it all together for themselves.
As it stands Rori is decidedly against eating the fruit in the garden. They shouldn't have done that. She also loves Jesus and wishes she had so many more storybooks about Jesus. But every time after I close the book, after Jesus ascends into heaven , she'll say, "I don't believe it. I don't believe Jesus."
It's always unprompted and always what she says when I close the book.
It's been such a gift to let her wrestle with it all. To let her mull it over and ask the questions she has and then come back to it the next day when she asks for those two stories all over again.
In so many ways we all find ourselves caught in between these two stories - between eating the fruit in the garden and Jesus' death on the cross. It's a pendulum on which we're always swinging - our daily decisions always swaying one way or the other. It's a tension I don't think we often notice, and yet here I sit with my three year old, who so clearly finds both stories something to be reckoned with on a daily basis.