We were sitting on the bus – yes, that’s right, ‘my‘ car is getting fixed again. This time Leif’s brother Kyle is doing the work. So this time I’m thinking that I’ll have a car again, it’ll run, and how awesome, it sounds like he’s got the leaking sunroof fixed.  I swear, his whole family is wonderful. Welcoming, kind, generous.  But that’s not the story I want to tell tonight.


So back to Cameron and I were sitting on the bus.


He was playing with a puppet he’d made in class, smiling and happy. Distractedly, he made a comment that caught my attention. Put the phone away Melo, this is more important than Facebook.


Mama, what if we’re all just puppets?


I asked him what he meant, did he mean that someone was making us do everything, say everything, think everything?


Yeah. Just like puppets.


Hmmm. Okay. I asked him, who is pulling our strings then, who is working us?


God, of course, Mama. Well, duh.


This is new.  God, huh. So we talked for a bit about this. Does God choose everything for us? Decide where we go, how we move, what we say? What we think? Everyone, not just the people who believe? I pointed out that he gets unhappy when everyone around him – me, Leif, Kate – tells him what to do, how comfortable is he with the idea that someone else is making him do and say and think things?


God must be very busy.


Yeah, I agreed, it must be exhausting.


But Mama. Wait. Who is God’s puppeter?


I waited, watching him think.


THAT’s what I wanna be when I grow up!


One response to “Puppeteer

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