"Great!" I said. "Well, back to bed."
"NO WAY," said God, or I assume He did, since no sooner did my face hit the pillow when the Vengeful Charley Horse of God smited me.
|Smitey smite smite!|
It felt like a mighty hand (hoof?) had nailed my calf and dragged me onto the floor. It's been many years since I had one of those, and I had forgotten how crippling they are. Such pain! And even if they didn't hurt like a mother, they render the affected leg motionless as your muscle bunches up as tight as sailors' knots.
What a doggone mean trick for a muscle to play. After all I've done to let them have a life of ease.
Now, I know there were entirely mundane reasons for me to have one of these out of the blue. Not drinking enough water in my active Saturday; not getting proper electrolytes.
Still, the timing, and the way I was essentially thrown out of bed, reminded me of C. S. Lewis's admonition about praying and dishes from Mere Christianity:
Now, the moment you realise ‘Here I am, dressing up as Christ,’ it is extremely likely that you will see at once some way in which at that very moment the pretence could be made less of a pretence and more of a reality. You will find several things going on in your mind which would not be going there if you were really a son of God. Well, stop them. Or you may realise that, instead of saying your prayers, you ought to be downstairs writing a letter, or helping your wife to wash-up. Well, go and do it.Not that I was praying, but the point is taken: Sleeping is good, but helping is gooder. And it may keep St. Charley the Horse from pounding you.
(Thanks to the blog Mere C. S. Lewis for helping me find the quote I was thinking about!)