We all have our crosses to bear
When our son Jack, 4, went to his school chapel for the first time, he came away fascinated with the Easter story.
"We saw pictures of Jesus," he told me in the car on the way home.
"Did you know he was nailed to the cross?"
Yes, I said. It was not a very nice thing to do to him, was it?
"No, it's very sad," said Jack, his voice full of awe and reverence. "I wish he was still here."
There was a long pause.
"I know, daddy," he said, suddenly all bright again. "We'll find a wishing well, you give me some money to throw in it and I'll wish him back."
Well, yes, I said, we could do that, but I was not sure it would work.
There was another pause and I fixed my concentration back on the road.
"I know, daddy," Jack said. "We can go and stand in the middle of the road, get run over, go to heaven, find Jesus and jump back down to earth with him."
At this stage I nearly crashed the car.
"Um, I think that's a bit drastic, Jack," I said. I was quite sure that it would not work, too. I think this is because I am very weak of religious faith and I also know that drivers in my home city, Canberra, are very careful not to run over crusaders.
Well they have to be, don't they?
Only the week before, a Sydney guy - Kevin "Mad Dog" Mudford, 45, a former criminal who saw the light in 1981 - had come to town carrying a cross. Imagine the traffic snarls that might have caused.
The Canberra Times newspaper said that for the previous 11 years, "Mad Dog" had carried his 5 metre x 2 metre cross for more than 5000 kilometres throughout Australia and New Zealand.
"It all depends where doors open up, it is where I share my story of recovery," he was quoted as saying.
Hmm, I wondered who would let a man with a 5 metre x 2 metre cross squeeze through their door? It would have be a big door.
And how did "Mad Dog" cross the road to spread the word? With the help of a crossing guard presumably.
Until my trip home with my newly enlightened son, I am quite sure the only cross Jack knew about was the one pirates scribble on maps to denote buried treasure.
I did not have a clue how my wife Katherine and I were going to explain Hot Cross Buns to him.
©April 9, 2001 John Martin. All Rights Reserved
NB: I called this site Dunno because I kept drawing a blank when I had to put a name to it
Australian writer John Martin looks at the funny side of parenting in My Son Jack
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