The other night as bedtime came (and passed) I was finally drifting off to sleep in a quiet house, when I heard a shout from the other room. My three-year-old son’s voice came wafting down the hallway asking, “Does God have bones?” Now that’s a good one. I mean, I’m assuming God has bones since He made us in his image, but He sure doesn’t need bones or maybe doesn’t even want bones. I’m guessing gravity is a concept made for Earth, but who knows how Heaven really works. So what’s a mom to do with these types of questions? I usually chuckle a little at his inquiries, softly smile and…
