A poem I wrote about war...20 years ago

and what I told my daughter about God and hate.

“Baba, did God create hate?” This question was thrown over my daughter’s shoulder and hit me like a boulder I wasn’t prepared catch or hold as she climbed the ladder to her loft bed. She’s 8 years old. It was 8pm. It was bedtime, but good parenting is never convenient.

I told her no because I believe God loves us enough to allow us to choose Him or to go our own way. I thought about telling her when she’s older that sometimes, I wish He didn’t let us choose like when it comes to war. I wish that Jesus would just step in and stop it.

And then that’s what she said. “Why doesn’t He just put His hand up and say stop?!?” Holding her hand up like we both imagined Jesus did when He calmed the storm.

“I don’t know,” I said, “but I really wish he would”. We prayed, then I went and found this poem.