The magnet

This is a magnet.
You may say: no, this is a wheelchair for kids.
And I can ensure that this is a real magnet.
And it fatally attracts couples of smiling Jehova's Witnesses, wherever we may be.
Today, the wheelchair my eldest daughter uses to get around manifested its magical power attracting another smiling couple of Jehova's Witnesses, who happened to pass by when I was at the playground with my kids.
Don't misunderstand me. I don't have anything against JWs. I really admire people who have faith, and I guess that their "pioneers" (is this their exact term?) have it. The thing I don't like about them is their lack of dialogue. I sum their approach as such: I speak and you agree. This happened when I attended a Catholich Church too. Last time I entered in a church to attend a mass I was 23. And, since I came home again with that persistent feeling of having to fill my mind with ready-made and non-negotiable ideas, I didn't do it anymore.
Let's come back to my magic wheelchair. The two women come towards me smiling. I try my last resource before having to talk: I quickly roll a cigarette and light it. It doesn't work.
Their eyes point my daughter's wheelchair.
"Oh, sorry, so you have a disabled kid".
I bite my tongue and I succeed to keep my mouth shut. 
I suppose that should I have replied - as I would have gladly did - "Nah, using wheelchairs is fashionable this summer, didn't you know?" I would have sounded a little unpolite. 
"Yes".

They promptly show me a leaflet whose exact title I don't remember, but it had something to do with the reason why bad things happen to good people. As soon as they begin to quote Bible's passages like a parrot I quickly dismiss them saying I am not interested in the subject, but agree to keep their leaflet. I am not unpolite, believe me: just it never happened to me to have a real conversation with a JW. I don't like unidirectional talks. They smile and go away.

My younger daughter reaches me asking for water, I give her some and she asks me who those two women were.

I explain that they belong to a religion whose members call God Jehovah, they believe they will be saved when the end of the world will come because they live "according to biblical principles",  and have a particular lifestyle.

She asks what these women said. I tell her they tried to explain to me why bad things happen to good people and I didn't want to pay them heed.

She asks me why.

Me: because the answer I like most is "that's life", and they most likely wouldn't have listened to what I would have said. I think that when two people talk, each one of them has the right to expound his point of view and the other one should listen and reflect. This doesn't mean they have to agree. This means that sharing the respective points of view enriches both parts. Whatever the subject of the talk may be. And this is exactly what we UU do during liturgies. We share our experiences and nobody judges.

Some hours later we were on the bus, coming back home, and she looked at me and said: "So mum, next time someone wants to tell me something I have to listen, don't I?". "Yes". "And then I can say what I think". "Yes". "And doesn't he get offended if I don't agree?". "Well, maybe he does... But it's his problem, not yours. And... you are such a sweetie, did I tell you I love you, today?".