As a young man, I often heard my father say things that later turned out not to be true. So I think it’s a father’s privilege, and I’ve probably done that a few times. But I don’t want to research that aspect of my life right now.
One that he often said was, “Healthy food is for sisters.”
At the time, I didn’t know what she was talking about, but I did know that good old momma worked very hard to make sure she had healthy food to eat. So he did his job, but it didn’t go down well with him. He always ate the opposite of healthy, and he was like that.
In later life, he suffered from diabetes, high blood pressure, blockage of the arteries and finally several heart attacks. Then he died.
According to him, these things had nothing to do with his food. They were just things that happened and He had no control over them.
It didn’t matter how sick he was at any given time, he always found it in himself to enjoy a dessert with lots of sugar in it. His favorite sweet was the one he was eating at the time.
I didn’t remember that for the longest period of time until several weeks ago, when I had my first heart attack. Who knew I had a heart too! And, what was in my heart against me that he wanted to attack me?
My main artery was 90% clogged, and the doctors called it a “widow maker.” This was relatively new to me.
I spent about half a week in the hospital and a stent was put in to help the main artery. The nurses took out more blood than they had taken from me. Count Dracula would have been jealous.
A nurse, I called Nurse Porcupine because she had more needles than porcupine quills. It took half a dozen attempts to find the artery containing the blood. Both my hands are black and blue and have matching needle marks.
My stay in the hospital was only three days, but felt like forever. Its experiences like these that make you appreciate your home and the bed and the lazy chair. I was very happy to reach home.
Then I thought of my father again. He spent most of his time in the hospital in the last few years of his life. I’m not quite sure how he made it through those experiences, but he did. Then I thought of his healthy diet comments.
According to him, a diet consisted of whatever he wanted at that time. To eat all this carefully was far beyond his manner.
I remember once he spent two weeks in the hospital getting his arteries cleaned and purified, or whatever they call it, and when he came home, his thought was, “I’m fine now so I can do whatever I want.” I want to eat, I can eat.”
It didn’t take long for him to come back until he returned before he had to go to the hospital.
Thinking about it, I was faced with a terrible choice.
I could take things very dangerously like my father and didn’t take my diet routine seriously.
On the other hand, I could take my health and eating habits seriously.
My first impression is of going with my dad. After all fathers are never wrong, right?
Not to criticize my father, who has been gone for over a decade, but he never really took his health seriously. He assumed it was just a condition that he could eat whatever he wanted, with no consequences involved.
As things stand, the greatest hindrance to my judgment in regard to my health and eating habits is the gracious landlady of the parsonage. For some reason, she has taken my diet quite seriously, as if it were hers.
The dilemma I am in is that she looks after the culinary activities in the house. I have been barred from entering the kitchen for years because of an incident that happened a few years back that I am still not comfortable with.
Being in a health-challenging condition right now, I don’t have much choice. It is either eat what the kind mistress of the parsonage has made or starve. Being hungry is not a particular form of exercise that I enjoy.
I must admit that my wife is an amazing cook and cooks very tasty meals, which I believe are the healthiest. According to me if it does not contain broccoli then it is delicious.
Her healthy array of sweets is mouth-watering.
Therefore, I can do my work myself and be in great trouble or allow the kind mistress of the parsonage to do her work and be in charge of the dietary activities in our household.
In considering the dilemma I was in, I came to realize a wonderful Bible verse. “And also that man should eat and drink and be happy in all his labor, it is the gift of God” (Ecclesiastes 3:13).
Instead of getting caught up in certain food and drink rituals, I believe in God’s perspective that He wants me to enjoy my life. But, of course, as I realize now, enjoying life means taking care of my eating habits so that God is glorified.
Source by James Snyder
