So seriously did I take the precautions to prevent flu this year, I beat a path to my doctor’s door when it was first available. My reward? A dose of flu – I’ll spare you the symptoms, save one: My coffee tastes . . . like it has the flu, and reading the today’s headlines worsens my chills and shakes.
Following suggestions for staying healthy—is not something I am going to stop doing. But getting sick after being conscientious seems an unfair reward. I still struggle with believing I am entitled to some kind of reward from the universe for commonsense behavior. The people living in Ukraine, Iraq and Iran, the West African nations – our returning American vets – would be right to shout out to me: Snap out of it!
So feeling the inevitable pull of a pity party, I am refusing the invitation. But I wouldn’t mind a few cards or cartons of chicken soup . . . just kidding – the only plus side of this buggie is it wiped out my appetite.
Advent’s coming – pardon the repetition – and so too the reminder my God did not come for the healthy – but the infirm.
Remembering, too, this is not 1918, I am grateful I wasn’t living then, and didn’t come down with the Spanish flu – a deadly pandemic disaster. Both my mother and father lived through it.
I am listening to John Rutter’s Christmas Album – and letting the beauty of the music wash through my mind, restoring hope – if not health. Also I count my blessings, Doug, being #1.
Things are never quite as scary when you have a best friend. ~Bill Watterson
How about you, dear reader – I hope, if darkness or pain or fear is incapacitating you, you will cry out; you will hear Christ’s call to you. (Mark 10:49) And don’t hang back from hollering to get His attention especially if you are in a good place. Praise is good medicine – more powerful than a vaccination.
*Our portulaca succumbs to freezing temps -- that's looks like how the stupid chills felt!