Jack lost his binder for Catholic Ed last week. I was annoyed. The kid loses everything not glued to his person. All those prayers. All those colored pictures of Jesus. Gone gone gone. I was now going to have to slink into church this week and beg for forgiveness and a new book for my forgetful middle child.
It was a busy week which ended with my husband attending the funeral of a dear family friend he has known his entire life. The man was the father of 13 children and a retired firefighter. I could go into detail about his remarkable life and legacy (conveyed mostly through Joe), but it's really not my story to share.
As Joe walked into the packed church, he found a pew and somehow noticed an abandoned binder. Another mourner held it up commented:
Oh, little Jack in 1st grade is going to be in BIG trouble with the nuns this week!
My husband, unaware of the lost materials, took a careful look at the name printed across the front cover and realized it was our Jack's book. He quickly claimed it and continued on the day of traditional Irish mourning. Joe couldn't help but wonder about the odds of his selecting that exact pew which would lead to the return of the lost binder.
It got me thinking about that father of 13 and all the lost hats, gloves, books, and shoes he must have experienced in his day. In my normal superstitious and "there are no coincidences" kind of way, I feel it was no accident that the book was discovered by Joe.
A little extra "here you go" from above. From one father to the next.