Roald Dahl, Imagination and Maybe a Little Philosophy

Recently, Devon read the Roald Dahl book “Witches” and ever since she finished it she has told me she’s not so sure witches aren’t real, and then told me various reasons why. Now when I say witches, I am referring to blatant fictional characters who, like in Dahl’s book, seek out to rid the earth of all children.

Today, while we were having lunch, she brought up that she thought witches could be real again and this time I decided to have a little fun. Here is how our conversation went.

Devon: Mom, I really think there are real witches, because sometimes I see people wearing gloves and it’s not even cold outside. (A situation from the book.)

Me: Well, first you should think about what makes something real.

Blank stare.

Me: How do you know this table is real?

Devon: Because it is right here.

Me: But how do you know it is right here?

Devon: Because my lunch it on it.

Me: Oh, so it’s real because you can touch it.

Devon: (light bulb!) Yea! And because I can see it.

Me: Oh well, is air real?

Devon: Yes.

Me: But you can’t touch it or see it.

Devon: Well, I can feel it.

Me: (smiling) What about God? Is he real like the table and air?

Devon: Yes.

Me: Can you touch God?

Devon: No. (small concern on face)

Me: Can you feel God?

Devon: No.

Now at this point, Devon seemed slightly concerned about these questions or maybe even the answers. But I could definitely see some serious thinking going on. And what she said next blew me away. It was the kind of answer you wouldn’t expect from a 7 year old, at least I didn’t. I had no idea where this conversation would go or if I was about to dig myself into a really big hole.

Me: Can you see God?

Devon: Yes.

Me: You can?

Devon: Yes. Whenever we sing “Open the Eyes of My Heart” then I can feel God open the eyes of my heart so I can see Him.

All I could do is smile and hug her. I didn’t dare push this silly philosophy experiment any further. She was so confident in her answer, well it was more of an assurance about her, but at that moment she looked like the “eyes of her heart” were open. And so were mine.