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When my husband and I got engaged and had the important conversations that all soon-to-be newlyweds should have, we found we were on the same page when it came to money and careers and kids and in-laws. We could divide the chores and share the checking account without any scuffles. We knew when we wanted to start a family and where we would draw the limits with our parents in the interest of our new family.

Where we didn't perfectly match was in our religious backgrounds. I was raised in the Catholic church and in Catholic schools, straight through college. Chris was raised in the Church of Christ.

We did not have the same challenges of our close friends who are a Baptist-Jewish couple. We at least had Jesus in common. But our brands of Christianity were far apart on some key issues, such as baptism and the celebration of Easter.

But we were determined that it would not be a deal-breaker for us. We tried a Sunday routine of 10 a.m. Mass followed by the 11 a.m. service at the local Church of Christ. But we often missed the end of one and the beginning of another. Plus, by always rushing out the door, we missed out on important fellowship time in both places.

Choosing one church over the other was not a viable option, so we set out to find a common ground. And in that process, we discovered that our beliefs weren't that far apart after all. We shared the same core beliefs, even if we valued different customs and forms of worship.

Fast-forward a couple of years. We attend a church where we feel comfortable individually and as a couple. And we have found a church that supports families and children.

And yet, when it comes to our children, we are treading with cautious steps. When we were children, my husband and I both recall receiving a tacit message from our families and our churches that ours was the right way -- and the only way -- to get to heaven. As adults, we have a broader view, and we want our children to have a broader view of religion. We want to pass on our religious beliefs, but we also want to teach tolerance of the beliefs held by others. We want them to understand that faith is a personal matter, not something to be used as a means of intimidation or discrimination.

But as with any parenting philosophy, it takes only one unexpected comment from a child to make you rethink your approach.

For us, it came last Christmas. We thought we had done a decent job of striking a balance between all the aspects of that holiday. We had shared the Nativity story with Charlie, who was finally old enough to understand it, and we had attended worship services at church. We spent time with extended family around the holiday but reserved Christmas morning for the four of us. And there were presents from Santa Claus, but only a reasonable amount.

Charlie had asked for a banjo for himself and a harmonica for Jackson, who was still too young to make his own requests. A family Christmas jam session ensued, and I told Charlie that we should form a band and tour the country.

"What should we call our band?" I asked him.

"Santa, Son of God," he replied. I must admit that it is a great name for a rock band, but it pointed out to Chris and me that he hadn't yet sorted out the various layers of the Christmas experience.

And then a few months later, we were daydreaming as a family about visiting Disney World someday.

"We'll see Mickey Mouse and Nemo and Cinderella and Peter Pan," I told him.

"And Jesus?" Charlie asked.

Yikes. Now Jesus was just another fairy-tale character.

"No, Charlie. Jesus won't be at Disney World," I said and searched for the appropriate explanation.

But he beat me to the punch. "Oh yeah, because Jesus died on the cross."

"Right," I said and took a deep breath as I tried to gather my thoughts and explain the crucifixion in a way that was understandable to a 3-year-old and yet not too scary or violent.

But Charlie was already on the move again. He picked up his guitar and began to sing an original song -- "Jesus died on the cross. Help him. Help him. God saved Jesus from the cross. He wasn't afraid of the apostles down the lane."

Perhaps Chris and I need to revise the section on faith and religion in our personal parenting manual.

Bridget B. Winston is a stay-at-home mom and freelance writer who lives in Christiansburg.