Erin, Jack, & Granddad

I found this old picture of Brad's dad (my sweet father-in-law) in my phone. I had completely forgotten about it. It makes me feel happy and sad at the same time. Bittersweet. This is when you wish you just had blind faith, because I want to believe he's floating with angels that are tickling his feet and feeding him chocolate ice cream and a cigar simultaneously, but I'm not sure. What I am is a closet Jew: I celebrated Passover with my sister and her family this past week and felt more connected to God then and there than I ever do in a church. I want to make sure I give my son something to follow, even if only for him to reject in years to come, because I think it's every kids right and every parents duty. But it is hard to force yourself into a box so that you know what line to feed your kid, particularly on religion. How do I explain God to my son when I don't understand myself? So far the answer has been to hem and haw, and that works for three years or so, but pretty soon, Brad and I will have to figure out what way we want to go with Jack and religion. As the matriarch, I guess I can choose Judaism and secretly hope my husband will follow... or is that sneaky? I think sooner rather than later I will talk to Rabbi Stern about all this.