Bigger Fish to Fry?

The late Tim Russert  once prayed on-air that his beloved Buffalo Bills would win Super Bowl XXVIII. The Cowboys gave the Bills a royal boot-kicking. This proves, perhaps, that God is a Cowboys fan.

(The proceeding paragraph is all I know about football. I only know about it because I watched a lot of Meet the Press.)

I bring up this example because I believe that God does care who wins football games, or who wins a MTV Video Music Award. A lot of people argue that God has bigger fish to fry, but I assert that God fries the right fish at the exact right time. For maximum flavor. 

I think I've killed that metaphor, and  made no sense. Well played! Let me try a different angle, since sports clearly isn't my thing. Or cooking fish. 

I got a phone call today that Owen will be moved to the morning preschool class, if I still wanted the spot. Instantly, a twenty pound boulder dropped off my shoulders. Owen was in the afternoon class, despite the fact that I was there on the first day of sign up at an ungodly hour. We weren't alumni, we weren't parishioners. No dice. If we wanted to attend this preschool, we would have to settle for the afternoon class. 

This was problematic because it messed up Joel's naps two afternoons a week, making for a very crabby baby and  a very long afternoon. I value Joel's sleep, and I was prepared to hire a babysitter to sit in our living room and read magazines while I picked up Owen and Joel dozed away. This was a solution, but an expensive one. 

I was also mourning the opportunity to have one-on-one time with Joel. I had envisioned taking him to storytime, maybe doing playgroups with other babies. I was hoping for him to experience the one-on-one attention that Owen had as a matter of course. With the afternoon option, I would take Joel home, and squeeze out a nap. That would be it. 

Of course, we would have made it work, and it would have been Just Fine. But, nevertheless, I decided to pray about it, asking God to put Owen in the right class. I didn't do it daily--just when I thought about it. 

And wouldn't you know, God answered that prayer, and He said "yes." I know that sometimes, God's answer is "no," and sometimes His answer is "wait." I don't pretend to understand His ways, because I'm not, all omniscient, and stuff. 

But, when you get a "yes" on something small, like a schedule change, it is a nice reminder that God notices everything, just like I notice the dirt under Owen's nails or the little dimples in Joel's knees. 

One time, I was talking to my mother on the phone, and during the conversation, she found a diamond that had fallen out of her wedding ring. This was possibly her mother's stone (I don't know for sure). As we talked, I heard her gasp, and then she cried tears of relief and gratitude. What was lost was found. She knew that God had answered a small, seemingly "meaningless prayer," and had given her a reminder of His grace. 

So, I guess, when a rock star thanks God for his Grammy or a baseball player looks upward after striking out his opponent, I don't think it's a bad thing. God understands, in ways we cannot, why certain games need to be won or why certain awards are earned or denied.

I would dare say that God was a Cowboys fan, not because he cares more about Dallas than Buffalo, but because he wanted to use Russert, a faithful man, to show that it is important to believe and have faith, even if "no" or "wait," is his answer. God uses all of these prayers, and His answers, even the difficult ones, are used for His glory. 

Go Bills.

(I don't know why this is doubled spaced. It bothers me greatly, and I'm working on it.)