Schultz Party of Four

Some of our best conversations happen when we drive. She sits in her carseat and tells me about her day, or what she thinks the clouds look like, or how she's feeling.

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The other day she caught a portion of an NPR story about Matthew Shepard. Like a sponge she had soaked up what few details she heard and wanted to know "why"?

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"Mommy!?! Why did he get tied to a fence?"

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"Why did people do that to him?"

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"Why didn't anyone help him, didn't he yell for help?"

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Some of our hardest conversations happen when we drive. She sits in her carseat and tells me about our world, or what she thinks it should look like, or how it makes her heart hurt.

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In the tension between honesty and innocence I did my best to speak truth into her worry. I told her it was a terrible thing those men did, and that most people in the world are good but a few choose to make very bad choices.

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Then she wondered aloud what God must have said to that man when he got to Heaven. I asked her what she thought the answer was, and she decided it was probably "I'm sorry those people hurt you, and I love you so much."

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Some of our most sacred conversations happen when we drive. She sits in her carseat and tells me about God, or what she thinks he is like, or how he makes her feel loved.