Two days following the conversation I had with Davis about him being the worst person in the world, another one came.
Every night I scratch both the boys' backs then sing "the Grace Song" to them. Before even starting to sing, Davis assured me, "Mom, I promise, I'm the worst person in the world." I responded, " Have you been thinking about Jesus?" Because I know that's the only hope for a feeling of such despair.
This time our conversation was even heavier than before. We talked about the cross, and why Jesus died, which Davis knew well. Next I asked if he knew where you went when you died if you are a part of God's family. He knew the answer was Heaven. I asked the oppposite question, and he knew that answer too (he called it the bad place, and I told him it's name).
With tears building in my eyes, I explained to Davis that hell is a place where God will never go. He asked a logical question: "But can't you walk out of there?" No. "Drive?" No. I could tell he felt the weight of this as much as I did, and I asked if maybe now he wanted to talk to Jesus about everything we had been talking about.
Still, his answer was no. He still wasn't ready, he thought maybe someday he could do that.