I apologise that I did not post at all yesterday. It seems that this virus I have was putting up a great fight to stay with me. As a runner I am aware of things like my resting heart rate and my peak flow ( the amount of air that I can take into my lungs on any one intake). Now my resting heart is normally between 45 and 52 and my peak flow is normally over 600. Yesterday morning I could not breathe so I took a reading it was under 200. Time to phone the experts. They told me to get down to the surgery straight away and they saw me immediately.
So here I am sitting here this morning, I am sure I can here the tablets rattling around inside me. With my morning grapefruit I have consumed 11 tablets. Steroids and antibiotics. I asked the doc if this was all necessary? “Do what you are told,” he said. “If you do not like the medicine go give yourself a little treat to make you feel better.” I laughed and thanked him. He promises me that I will feel better in about three days but to take the tablets for a full week. As I left I asked him if I could have a note to take home to my family to let them know I was to get a treat each day. He laughed. My parting shot was laughter is good also.
As I came home I remembered the story of the little boy and his visit to the restaurant.
The mother took her six-year-old son to the restaurant. As they prepared to have their meal he asked if he could say grace. As we bowed our heads he said, "God is good. God is great. Thank you for the food, and I would even thank you more if I am allowed ice cream for dessert. Amen!"
Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby a woman was heard to remark, "That's what's wrong with this country. Kids today don't even know how to pray. Asking God for ice cream! Why, I never!"
Hearing this, the young lad burst into tears and asked me, "Did I do it wrong? Is God mad at me?" His mother assured him that he had done a terrific job and God was certainly not mad at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table. He winked at the lad and said, "I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer." "Really?" the boy asked. "Cross my heart," the man replied. Then in a theatrical whisper he added (indicating the woman whose remark had started this whole thing), "Too bad she never asks God for ice cream. A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes."
Naturally, at the end of the main course the mother bought the young lad a big ice cream.
The lad stared at his for a moment and then did something his mother will remember for the rest of her life. He picked up his sundae and without a word, walked over and placed it in front of the woman. With a big smile he told her, "Here, this is for you. Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes; and my soul is good already."
Before going home from the doctors I had an ice cream. It sure did soothe the sore throat. Who knows it might have done even more than that.
Go on treat yourself.
This blog is linked to my other. Playings in Paint.