Divine? Right.

I have this uncle.
Fake uncle, really.
Well, he's an uncle for someone, I'm sure. But not me.
It's not important, really.
This uncle, he had surgery yesterday.
They opened his chest up, and they tossed six bypasses onto his heart.
And they 'cleaned up' some other tubes and aortas and things.
I've never been hospitalized. Which I consider to be a curious thing about me.
Because I'm frail.
I was in a wrestling match with a woman, once. Twice, actually (Andy Kaufman, eat your heart and aortas out). And really, I lost both times.
Melanie Morgan is wiry and taught, first of all. That's why I wrestled her.
And the other woman, well, you could have strapped some socks on her and tossed her onto the Acadia rugby team, easily.
Men's or women's.
Her frosh shirt had some sort of barbaric title on it. 'Killer', or Butch', or some such threatening word.
I can't touch my toes.
I can't dive into a swimming pool.
I have never, in my life, won an arm wrestling match.
"Alright, Paul versus Leanne!"
HAHAHA
That's good for my self-esteem. Thanks hockey players.
You would think I would have had rheumatism as a kid.
Bronchial Meningitis. Something.
Metabolic Acidosis.
I encounter friends with allergies.
Back problems.
Astigmatisms.
Ever go to class as a kid without having finished your homework (everyone but my mother will say 'yes'), and you sit in your seat, praying the teacher won't call on you to answer a question?
Then the class ends. And you get away with it?
I feel like I have done this every day since I've been born.
With God.
He's moving the magnifying glass, but whenever He spots me outside, it's always cloudy.
Ironically.
Because He's God.