Some days pass and her mother
with tears streaming down her face tells her little daughter that
grandmother has gone to heaven. The mystery bearing down upon the little
soul deepens. "What is Heaven?" and "where is Heaven?" she asks. They
tell her of its beauties, its peace, happiness and joy. They say that
grandmother wanted to go and then they cry again. The little girl cannot
understand it all, but she tries. If grandmother is happy and really
wanted to go, why does mother look so sad, why the closed blinds, why is
everything so quiet? She asks the question in the presence of her
practical unimaginative aunt, who bids her be quiet and adds in her
even, impressive voice, "Your grandmother is dead." The word has an
awful sound and she raises her eyes to the severe face above her and
asks, "What _is_ dead?" But the aunt does not answer, and the little
girl goes to the window to think it all over. She knows that _dead_ is
dreadful--grandmother has gone, the house is quiet, father will not play
with her and mother cries. She is only a very little girl but she has
met the unanswerable questions, "Who made God? Where did I come from?
Where is Heaven? What is it like? What is Death?"
As the years pass her instructors in religion attempt to teach her. In
varied words, according to varied creeds they answer or postpone the
answer to her questions.
Pages:
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102