Late Saturday evening WC burst through the backdoor into the kitchen screaming, “The Bible’s real, the Bible’s real.”
I turn from my dinner preparation and find him panting. When he catches his breath he continues. “I was outside with my car (holds up a green matchbook style automobile) and I dropped in the grass; couldn’t find it anywhere. So I prayed as hard as I could; asked God to let me find my car. And when I opened my eyes- there is was!” Then he begins another frantic run in a circle screaming. “God’s real.” Then heads back across the kitchen and out the backdoor screaming. “God’s real. Praying is fun.” The door slams behind him. From what I could gather from the sounds of the yelling, he and his little brother were running across the back yard screaming/chanting- “God’s real. Praying is fun.”
I find my husband on the couch, laughing hysterically. He finally says, “Do you think they know you blog about them?”
“They do appear to just hand me things me write about.”
At some point, probably soon, we will have to have the discussion with him that just because you pray, God doesn’t always just drop your request at your feet.
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