Blessings from God are serious business. Literally. And I’m not talking about televangelists using ‘blessings’ for bankrolling their summerhouse in the Hamptons. I am speaking of true favor from the creator of the universe. One should consider themselves lucky if they have this honor bestowed upon them. He does not go handing them out to everyone like those annoying Domino Coupons hung on your doorknob or stuck underneath your windshield. Tonight I was reminded of a few things God blesses:
(1) Of all the states in the union for God to bless, it seems odd he would choose one known for belt buckles, corporate punishment and livestock. But, who am I to question the big guy upstairs. For whatever reason, he decided to bless Texas with His own hands by bringing down angels from the promised land. God gave them a place where they could dance so if you want see heaven brother here is your chance. A side note: if you are fortunate enough to come across a broken road in Texas then you have just witnessed a double blessing of God.
(2) God must really love himself some Jim Belushi. This is the only way to explain why the sitcom (I use that phrase loosely) According to Jim managed to stay on air for eight seasons. Either God blessed him or Belushi made a deal with the devil. I’m thinking it is the latter and came as a package deal with George Lopez.
(3) Whoever came up with Crocs. Only God could have had a hand in rubber shoes taking over a nation to the point where grannies think they are ‘down’ when they put on their pink colored Crocs with extra special charms attached to them.
Yet, nothing makes the Lord smile more than when another Chick-fil-a pop ups in a strip mall. This glorious southern creation gains his favor not for their sweet tea, chicken biscuits or for the fact they are closed on the Lord’s Day. He blesses the ‘Fila for the constant thank you prayers he hears from parents with little children.
The stream of appreciation speeds up during cold, rainy and snowy days. Parents like me are laughing because they know about the sweet relief I am talking about: the play area. When the weather outside is frightful, it provides a place where the kids can go crazy for 20-30 minutes while you catch your breath and get a break. It also serves as an excellent bartering tool when your kid refuses to eat their chicken nuggets, fruit and lemonade.
Unfortunately, since the play area is hardly a secret it serves as a popular destination for families. The swarm of kids also means a swarm of parents. In such confined spaces forced small talk is inevitable. More often than not I sneak out, grab the sports section of the local paper and leave Jenn all by her lonesome. I avoid any glances in the direction of the play area because if Jenn and I lock eyes then I get the ‘look.’
Tonight, there is no way she is letting me off the hook. She kindly reminds me what this month’s focus is all about. Wow, you cut me deep Jenn, you cut me real deep. I hope my overprotective dad gene will kick in giving me an excuse to watch my girls and not make pleasantries about the age of our kids, where we got their cute outfits, how Paige really is two even though she is mini-me and squashing the rumor we put extensions in Madison’s hair (we’ve honestly been asked this on more than one occasion). Our girls decide not to bounce off walls so Jenn and I get the joy of listening about the potty training problems of a young boy whose running nose is greasing the twisty slide like Crisco. Oh no…Paige just bum rushed another girl. Most nights I would be completely embarrassed. Tonight it allows for the perfect excuse to ‘discipline’ or in other terms exit stage right.