“First Lessons in Faith”

I am sitting in the front seat of a car with Dad.  Perhaps I am four years old.  We are parked on a street near the garden apartment in Bayside where we lived before we moved to Connecticut.  The car is not moving; we are just sitting there talking.  We must have just come from somewhere, because Dad is in the driver’s seat and I am next to him.  But at such a young age, wouldn’t I have been in the back seat?  This was long before the era of seat belts or car seats.

I am stroking my fingers back and forth across what I later learn is called the dashboard, which is made of a material that I think is leather.  The dashboard, tan in color, is ridged vertically and prominently stitched with what looks like upholstery seams.  This design feature fascinates me, as do the push-buttons that Dad uses to make the car start up or drive or back up.  When our next car had a lever to do those things, I thought it very strange.  This car is a Ford Mercury, marketed for its “space age” looks.  The push-button automatic transmission appeared in the 1957 model year and was withdrawn in the 1958 model year.  Not sure about the “leather”.  

Sitting next to Dad, I ask, “But what if God makes another flood?”

“He will not,” Dad answers.  “He promised.”

“But what if God does decide to make another flood?” I persist.

“He will not,” Dad answers.  “He promised.”

I have a feeling this dialogue goes on for a little while.  It is the first lesson in faith that I remember. 

(continued below)