Ben enjoys jokes. 

"What do you say when the Statue of Liberty sneezes?" 

"God bless America."

In actual fact, the word that comes out of my mouth without thinking in the event of a sneeze is Gesundheit. More often I reserve my blessings for when people have offered a kindness that I didn't expect. 

Church this week was about the list of blessings in the New Testament, the one that includes a few head scratchers. 

Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you." Matthew 5

Being poor in spirit, or hungry, or in mourning are not always conditions to be sought after. Yet here is Jesus holding them up as benefits. 

The prayer group I belong to has an ear out for those who need comfort. This week, I asked two friends if they wanted to be included in our prayers, and they were touched. Maybe even blessed, but I will resist any urge to ask about that until the conditions that render them needy have passed. I took a meal to another friend as well, and as chance would have it, she and her husband were hungry. Which made the meal all the more satisfying. She, too, is facing troubles, and I have no plan to use the b word with her. 

There are people I love that have experienced persecution in recent years. Not their health so much as their livelihoods. I am not sure that they have made it to the glad part yet. 

In church, the minister asked us about those life events that did not at first blush read as blessings, but over time have ripened into goodness. My son, the one who likes jokes, had left the room, but I spoke in generalities about him. His diagnosis twenty-five years ago was devastating. If a genie in scrubs had offered to trade my struggling baby for one with vibrant health, I would have thrown my arms around him or her in relief.

But Benjamin's experience of life, even the heartbreaking parts, have changed me. I have learned a thing or two about mercy, and mourning. I have rejoiced because Ben has a new riddle for me, or a hat with a light on it, or another chance to take a walk with his friend. 

If that hypothetical doctor were to ask our family that same question now, we would throw our arms around Ben and never let go.