Our God, the Stand-up Comedian

Yes, there is a God and he has a sense of humor.  To get the full appreciation for this story, I need to give you some background about how this year has gone for my sweet fourth grade boy and then a little bit about the boy, too.  It has been a hard rocky, tear-filled year full of bullying, missing homework, "miscommunications" with teachers with no kids (moms you know what I mean) and lack of enthusiasm to make any of it better from that fourth grader.  Some of this lays the groundwork in seeing what kind of subject I am dealing with here.  I believe every family has that one child they worry about more than the other kids.  Well, this is my kid.  The one I pray for while driving home from the gym. The one I lie awake at night thinking about.  The one I drill immediately after school about who he sat by at lunch or played with at recess.  And the one I lose my patience with the most.  I always find him with his nose in a book or tinkering with Legos.  He is taking apart some mechanical things to look at its insides or drawing up plans to make a canoe.  Sounds like great things to do, right? Wrong.  This little angel has bad timing.  He So needless to say, I feel like he owes me more than the other kids.  I mean when it is time to take care of mama instead if sending her to the nursing home, he better step up.

Back to why I know there is a God.  We have been playing bingo at a certain nursing home for four years now.  The residents are quite serious about the game.   Serious may be an understatement.  There is not much messing around when it comes to it.  My kids have learned this.  Tey usually grab a card and take a spot among the residents or occasionally call out the numbers.  I try to set them at different tables to help out if needed.  On this particular day, Luke had been trying my patience and was making my nursing home trip all about him.  He wanted to just stay home!  He wanted to play the iPad!  He was hungry!  He was tired! My patience was wearing thin ad I forced, I mean strongly encouraged, him to sit at a table with an elderly woman by herself.  Justice was served!  As he stacked the bingo chips  on the table in 
different towers of blue and red.  She sharply told him to stop.  Then continued to tell him how to sit, how to hold his head and how to talk.  if that wasnt enough. She had a problem hearing the numbers and kept nagging him to repeat every number.  What was that they called repeated about a hundred times.  I saw him change from the nagging pest to receiving a little of his own medicine.

Thank you God for the service!  It was worth every minute!