I began my day with sleeping in until 8:30-ish and then doing a whole lot of nothing for the next 5 hours. Doing nothing really takes a lot out of you, so I took a nap. I once heard "How glorious it is to do nothing, and then take a nap after wards" but I can't agree. Not today! Being sick means that I can't go outside the house, I can't clean, I can't cook, I can't ride my bike, I can't study, I can't garden! I might sound like a whiny two-year-old, but those are the things that I had planned on doing that day and being sick kind sorta wrecked it. I even missed classes for this illness!
Right now I'm trying to look for the silver lining in all this and I think I've found it. Being sick gives you a lot of time to think. And read (when your not watching Oprah). I've done a little bit of both, and have found some great books! My Day by Eleanor Roosevelt, edited by David Emblidge is a collection of newspaper columns entitled My Day that Mrs. Roosevelt did on a regular basis. Her column discussed everything from being a grandmother to the United Nations. She was "surprising and personal, My Day reveals Mrs. Roosevelt's indefatigable (what a word!) will, unflagging energy, and unequaled ability to make ""ordinary people" care about the issues of the day." That's according to the inside flap. Another one is Return from Tomorrow by George Ritchie edited by Elizabeth Sherrill. Fantastic book! It is the true story of a man who died (hold on, it gets better) and then came back to life nine minutes later. Now he did this more than 20 years ago when they didn't have all this fancy machinery, so something like this was literally a miracle. During those nine minutes he met the Savior, and had a glimpse into heaven and hell Here's a clip from it:
"I got to my feet, glanced back at the bed. Someone who looked like me was still lying there--and this one looked dead. I looked at my own hands. If I were to be a doctor, I would need my hands. But I couldn't touch things. That decided it. No man in this fix could become a doctor! Then suddenly I was no longer alone. Someone stood there. I knew it was Christ, though my chief impression was of dazzling, blinding light." He asked "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH YOUR LIFE?" Thoughts replaced speech in this strange dimension, with no re-considering possible. "Well, I got to be an Eagle Scout" "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO TELL ABOUT ME?" I changed the subject. "I'm too young to die." Very kindly He said, "NOBODY IS TOO YOUNG TO DIE. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH YOUR LIFE?" Total recalling, detailed and perfect. No horrendous depths but no heights either, only an endless, short-sighted, clamorous concern for myself. Then the rage! It wasn't fair! "How could you judge a person who hadn't even started?! What about the insurance money coming when I'm seventy?!" The Presence beside me seemed to vibrate and shimmer with holy laughter, not at me and my silliness, not a mocking laughter, but a mirth that seemed to say that in spite of all error and tragedy, joy was more lasting still. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH YOUR LIFE TO SHOW ME?HOW MUCH HAVE YOU LOVED WITH YOUR LIFE? HAVE YOU LOVED OTHERS AS I AM LOVING YOU? TOTALLY? UNCONDITIONALLY?" "Why, I didn't know Love like this was possible! Someone should have told me! This was a fine time to discover what life is all about. Why hadn't someone told me?!" The answering thought held not on rebuke, only that hint of heavenly laughter, "I DID TELL YOU. BY THE LIFE I LIVED. BY THE DEATH I DIED." I noticed we were moving...
That's the condensed version of that paragraph.
He focus's a lot on the infinite love that Christ showed when he was in his presence and how
everything seemed bearable when he was there with him. I was inspired when I read this and highly recommend this for anyone!
So I guess being sick was a good thing them. I got a little down time to stop and re-adjust what I'm doing, to be sure that I make room for the important things in life.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get a popsicle.