Have you met Aaron?

What sort of morbid maniac thinks about hellfire and damnation all the time? I've been writing a lot about judgment of late for the obvious reason that I've been thinking about it a lot. There is so much of Christianity that I struggle to wrap my mind around. How do these concepts fit in with my understanding of a loving God and a goal of unity within the church? The exercise of trying to understand is wearying, but perhaps it will build some sort of spiritual muscle. Or, perhaps it will absent the general public from my blog. Either way.

In other news, I really have way more going on within my life than I've told you about here. Daily life has maintained a fast pace for the past couple of weeks. I had a variety of houseguests, which provided for much enjoyable leisure, and rather too much excellent food. I may never need to eat again.

Besides all the company, I have been homeschooling Aaron. This is a significant chunk of my day, and requires a fount of energy. Aaron is in the 6th grade, and is a very intelligent airhead. This means that I must sit next to him while he works for the sole purpose of keeping his head out of the clouds and on to the work before him.
He is more distractible than any other person on the planet.
He's so caught-up in his own head that he lives with a blissful smile on his face and an easy giggle. His limbs flail and sway as though unrestricted by confines of gravity and decorum. He walks like a merry imbecilic in public. You think I'm being poetic, but alas, I am not.
Just yesterday, Aaron and I were at the local grocery store. I was hunting and gathering, aided by my careful list. Aaron was humming to himself while flailing about as I already described, thus heedlessly obstructing the entire aisle as he trailed behind my cart. I finally stopped (and he ran into me) so that I could tell him to walk like an adult.

He said, "Here we go again."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I demanded. I was feeling a little cranky, probably due to all of my morbid musings on judgement.

"You're going to tell me to stop walking like that."

"Um, yeah. Look around! Do you see any other shoppers dancing and singing through the store? What would you think if you did?"

He began his cheerful chuckle as he pictured this. "I'd think there was something weird about them."

"What do you suppose they think," I asked, "when they are confronted with you?"
He straightened up, but he keep giggling about it all the way to the car.

He's the happiest child you ever met, but clueless and carefree to the fullest extent of those words. I told you about this particular way he has once before. It was over a year ago, when he was still in school. Read about it Here