The Blessing

This is a reprise of a previous post with more info:

While in Palm Desert, I asked directions from four strangers in the 108 degree sun. One, named Isaac, asked, “Sir, may I ask how you lost your fingers?


“Sure,” I told him, “Lost ‘em when I was nine from a dynamite cap.”

“Do you mind if I say a prayer for you?” asked Isaac.

“Go ahead,” I said.

Isaac held my hand and prayed, “...that he be healed, and his fingers grow back.”

After the blessing, I couldn’t wait to tell my family about the good news. Natalie looked at my hand, and said, “I don’t see any growth, Daddy.” She then looked at Libby and Genna, “You both can date when Grandpa’s fingers grow back.”

Six-year old Genna was upset, “I thought we could date when we were thirty-two!”

I now receive occasional phone calls regarding the progress of my fingers.

Magic

Grandkids Sarah (4) and Andrew (3) were playing in their backyard sand pile. Sarah had built an elaborate sandcastle. Andrew picked up a bucket of water with the intention of flooding the sandcastle. Alarmed, Sarah said that he was holding the soup that she had made--and he couldn't pour it on the sandcastle.

Andrew held out the soup and said, "Bippity, Boppity, Boo! Now it is water."

Sarah ran into the house, screaming for help from mom.

No Peach Fuzz

While I stood in line at McDonalds at six in the morning, the manager Debbie spoke to the young cashier, a manager in training, who was taking my order, "If I give you the money, will you go to 7-11 and buy a razor?"

The cashier, who had a beard of about 25 long curly hairs on his chin, took the two dollars she gave him and walked to the store next door.

While reading the paper, I have overheard new employees in training. They are instructed on the clean shaven, no piercing, no exposed tatoo policy.

Who's Screaming?

As I waited for my senior coffee at McDonalds, Debbie the Manager shouted, "I'm not screaming. You're the one that's screaming. You should have asked for decaf, and you would have had it!"

 

It sounds stupid, but I relate, having been there myself.

A Sarah Story

Last Sunday was epiphany at church. At St. Pat's the church Rebecca and her family attend, three men dressed as the wise men were "interviewed" as a part of the homily. Sarah looked at them with all the earnestness of a four-year-old and then turned to her mother and said, "Gosh, Mommy, isn't that nice. Instead of going back to see King Herod, they came to Colorado."

Who...Me?

Daughter Rebecca shouted to her three year old in the kitchen, "What are you doin' in there?"

 

Andrew yelled back, "I'm not in the butter."

I want a new mother

Earlier last week Sarah, who is four and a half,  was misbehaving, and her mother Rebecca sent her to timeout.

 

As she was marching up the stairs, Sarah turned to Rebbecca and said, "I don't want you for a mother. I want Mary. She'd never send Jesus to timeout."