Iz and I have our best discussions in the car.
Iz has decided he wants to create a city out of boxes for his Godzilla-themed birthday (which is two months away). He discovered a new way of painting windows—with a single vertical brushstroke. But he wanted ideas for other types of windows so his building would look different. I picked him up at school a few days ago, and, on the 30-minute drive home, I pointed out the wide variety of window types in downtown DC through Capitol Hill. While none are Godzilla-city skyscrapers, they offered inspiration.
We passed a small church on Independence Avenue with arched stained-glass windows. I have always loved how you can see the leaded lines, darkened colors and vague forms from the outside of a stained-glass window. I pointed and said to Iz, “Look at the arched windows of that church.”
Iz asked, “What is a church?”
I paused, stumbled over some words, “On Sundays, some people meet at the church to talk about god. It is like a school where you learn about god, for those who believe in god.” I know, a simplistic description, but functional.
I can’t actually remember if Iz asked, “Why don’t we go to church?” But I knew he was thinking it.
So I answered, “We don’t go to church because I don’t believe in god.”
Iz said, “I kind of don’t believe in god and I kind of do.”
I asked, “That’s cool. If there is a god, what is he or she like?”
Iz replied, “Big. Much bigger than people, and god is a girl.”
I appreciated that, “I do think that if there is a god, she would be female—or like a female.”
Iz said, “And god would live in the clouds.”
I said, “I think god wouldn’t really have a body like we do—I think she would be something different. I do believe there is power in nature, a way that things work that makes sense, that seems to be come from a thoughtful being. Some people call this ‘Mother Nature.’”
Iz said, “Mother Nature is a girl.”
“Yes, she is.”
We then merged onto Kenilworth Avenue and probably started talking about whether he could have a doughnut when he got home.