1968

I was out in the yard this afternoon picking lettuce when one of the neighbor kids showed up like he always does when someone else is out in the yard.  He is around enough that I figure I can treat him somewhat like one of my own.  So as we sat there picking lettuce and radishes, talking about this and that, I took the opportunity to ask him if he knew what Easter was all about.  --- I knew that the girls had been doing some evangelism of their own.  They had been talking and arguing with him that Jesus really did die and come back to life – Laura had to settle the argument.  Somewhere in the midst of this, Mary exclaimed that ‘We’ve been telling him that Easter is not just about hunting eggs and the Easter bunny!” ---  So I knew they had talked it out and that he ought to know something.  So I asked him if he knew what Easter was about. He said, ‘No, I cannot remember’.  So I went through some questions with him, asked him if he knew who died and so on.  He then asked me when Jesus died.  I said it was a long, long time ago. His response, ‘You mean in 1968?”.  I tried to explain that it was a couple thousand years ago, but he couldn’t comprehend that, so I relented and said that it might as well been 1968.