How do you explain abstract concepts to a Diva? For example, how does one go about reassuring the Diva that she shouldn't be afraid to die? How does one explain why people die? How does one allow time for Diva to grieve, while also teaching her the life skill of resiliency?
Unfortunately, these question have plagued me since the Diva and her brother, the Gopher, moved in with Husband and I in 2005. She was 11 years old. Her mother had died four years earlier, and her dad was sick. She would frequently ask why her mother died. Obviously, she wasn't searching for any deep, theological answers. For the most part, she was satisfied with explanations of the actual physical causes of her mother's death.
When her dad passed away in 2009, the Diva was 16. She understood her dad had been sick. But she wasn't content with the response that her dad died because he was sick. She would ask another Why. And another. My answers ranged from medical diagnoses, to the idea that Jesus needed her dad in heaven, and everything in between.
More recently, the Diva has expressed concern about her own death. Like all of us, she doesn't want to die. Many people tell their children, "Don't worry, you won't die, people die when they are old." But Daughter already knows that people can die unexpectedly. I remember asking my mom about death, and she told me it was like falling asleep - you wake up in Heaven! I tried that one on Daughter and I think she was afraid to close her eyes for a week.
The other night, Daughter and I were in the car, waiting outside Dairy Queen for Husband to return with our treats. That afternoon, the Diva had been picked up from soccer by Barney's Mom, the Professor.* I asked Daughter how it went. Daughter said good, and then she replayed the conversation for me:
(pretending to be the Professor) "Hi Diva, how are you?" (pause, now pretending to be herself) "Good. I miss my dad. He died."
I paused. What on earth would prompt her to say that? I asked Daughter what made her think of her dad, but she didn't understand the question, and eventually I gave up. I then asked Daughter what the Professor said, and she replied:
"She told me, 'I'm so sorry that you miss your dad.' "
The Diva had memorized the words, the emotion, and the intonation so perfectly that tears welled up in my eyes. They were beautiful, healing words; words that I had forgotten over the years during my search to find the Perfect Answer. The Professor's words had a big impact on Daughter. Empathy, compassion, love - also abstract concepts - were communicated very clearly to my Diva.
Maybe that's the key. Maybe my best weapon against Diva Anxiety isn't logical or theological explanations, but reassurance that when all other answers fail, she can always depend on God to love her through the actions of others.
* Barney and his mom are extra-special to our family. Barney's mom was a well-known law school Professor that I met - not during my three years of law school - but at Baccalaureate, just prior to graduation. Our little family plopped down next to her, and she noticed the Diva. Eventually she introduced herself, and shared that she had a Dude of her own (Dude = Male Diva). Husband and I were still living in Rural City, although we were planning to move that summer. We were debating which school district to move into, and were waiting for God to point us in the right direction. As the Professor told us about her Dude's experience in a district near the top of our list, the decision became clear. Over the past year, the Professor's family has ministered to us in extraordinary ways by simply loving us in ordinary ways. They are a friendly face at school events, they provide emergency child care, and they might even lend you a pair of black shoes for a firm Christmas party when you realize you left all your black heels at the office.
