Okay, so we've all got our own opinions, our own faiths, and multiple variations which eventually cause the issues to become convoluted .
But please remember, that these writings are from my memories as a very small child--3 & 1/2 years old at the start--to try to figure out and apply some of this "God business", and to try to make sense of it in a way that would be useful to me in my life as a child.
It is comically sad in a way, because my interpretations resulted mostly from just listening to the adults in my midst--not from asking questions. I was sometimes too afraid to ask direct questions about God. When I did, it would sometimes cause adults to fall silent, purse their lips, as if holding back their words, and then asking me a battery of questions with the common theme of "why do you ask?" So, the active listening followed by silent observation became the method of my research protocol, despite the obvious limitations and snail's-pace acquisition of data.
As I recall, I was somewhat of a precocious child, and when asking controversial questions out of the blue, I would often become the object of laughter and friendly ridicule, e.g., "...how cute of Will to be asking such things..".
That's me, "Will". My name is William, Bill for short, but my Dad's brother was also William, Bill for short, so my Dad started calling me "Will" to specifically identify me. Will eventually morphed into Willy, which was okay sometimes, except that some of the older relatives who still had cultural influences of our British ancestry began objecting, and pointed out that "willy" is the slang term for a penis in British "street-speak". So, we settled with Bill or Will, depending upon who was visiting at any given moment.
We grew up in the Boston area mostly. We were not particularly "religious people", but we had many people in our life who were, or had been at one time. One aunt, Margaret, who we called Maggie (pronounced Maah-Gee) with full Bostonian accent, had lived in a convent for a period of time, just short of becoming "anointed" into "nun-hood".
I'm not sure exactly why Maggie backed out at the last minute (or was denied in) but her "best friend and companion" Bea served as a clue. Maggie and Bea were inseparable. They shared a large apartment in Downtown Boston on Commonwealth Ave., at the "Public Gardens" end of the Avenue.
My visits to see Maggie and Bea were fantastic. One block up from their door we would cross Arlington street, and enter the Public Gardens. The Public Gardens are a part of the infamous "Boston Common". The Gardens were the place to ride the Swan Boats, a popular tourist attraction still in operation today. If you came in spring or summer, there were also real-live swans along with their babies trailing behind. They would eagerly hover near the footbridge awaiting bits of food thrown by tourists.
More importantly (to me) were the Churches in the area. My favorite, Trinity Church, was just a few blocks up the avenue in the other direction.
It was my favorite, because most weekends there was organ music pouring out into Copley Square, so loud and clear it would reverberate off of the surrounding buildings. Also, you could walk around the entire Church, and see each of its different design elements, depending on your angle of view(s). (Gee, I wasn't too gay, was I? Not even four years old yet, and I already had architectural design sensibilities. How proud my Dad must have been!).
The Aunts would eventually get "Antsee", and their impatience would always begin the same way:
"Will, haven't we seen enough Churches for one day?" Maggie would gently ask, smiling.
"And besides, most little boys your age don't like this sort of thing. Wouldn't you rather go for ice cream?--Or even back to your Aunts' house to watch TV--or maybe just chew some gum? -- Bea, got any gum?... give him some gum for God's sake!...and let's go, I'm cold!"
Its not that they were angry--not at all. They were "older" after all, and the onset of their aches and pains--possibly bursitis--would often erupt quickly.
Back to my "God" research. Once we were safely and comfortably back inside their apartment, and after serving me my fill of ice cream (hold the chewing gum) Maggie and Bea settled into to their various creature comforts.
As their heat pads, or boiled "hydroculator" took effect, they would each begin whispering words of relief: "Ah, God that feels good", and "Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" with an occasional "Ooo, God, yes, yes, yes..."
I noted to myself, that apparently God is worthy of mention--and high praise--when soothing sore muscles, low back, and feet. I was happy to help out, bringing an ottoman or foot rest to each of them, stacked up with pillows just right, then tucking them in with quilts.
I can still see their loving, appreciative smiles beaming at me, their little helper.
"God sent us a little Angel today, Maggie!"
"Yes, Bea, either that, or its a little boy trying score points for more ice cream?"
They were both correct. We all laughed. I turned my attention back to the cartoons on one of the 4 television channels available at the time...(early 1964).
This day's "Child's God Research" had concluded as follows: I was happy and content, my favorite aunts were smiling and drifting off for a light snooze. Therefore, in this "researcher's" opinion, God means Happy, Love, Cozy, Secure, Warm, Cartoons and lots of Ice Cream!
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