When my daughter was very young, we bought her a hamster. She promised to take care of a hamster if we would buy her one. But anyone who has bought their child a hamster, knows how that goes.
It became my job every day to ensure “Wilbur” had food and water. On Saturday, it was my job to rid the hamster cage of that hideous odor that was a result of the food and water. It was my daughter’s job to watch the hamster while I washed the cage. She would set Wilbur on the sofa next to her and pet him while she watched Saturday morning cartoons. When I would bring the cleaned cage in, I’d ask her, “Where’s Wilbur?” to which she would answer, “He’s right here beside… Where’d he go?” Then we’d spend the rest of the afternoon searching under beds and in closets for him.
One day, I went to feed and water Wilbur, but he didn’t move. He had passed away in the night.
I tried to think of the best way to break the news to my daughter. I went to her room, and sat beside her. “Honey, Wilbur died last night. He’s not with us any more,” I said.
“Well, where is he?” she asked.
“God took him to heaven to be with Him,” I said.
She thought about it for a minute and asked, “What does God want with a dead hamster?”
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