Not good.
We’ve been swimming in deep water over here for so long, that the other night as I was lying in bed, I told the Lord I needed something funny to write about. God responded the next day.
Prostate cancer responds to good nutrition, and it’s possible to stall or turn back the growth by eating well. So, I left Tuesday morning with a list and high ambition. I visited three grocery stores and returned, my bags brimming with nutrients.
Now, I know what some of you are thinking. You’ve heard of a particularly popular healthful diet, and thought it would be a great plan for Jerry. I spoke with him about this option. Of course, this specific diet involves giving up meat. When my South Georgia bred hubby heard that, he gave me the look that always reminds me he was a lawyer for over a dozen years prior to his preacher days.
“I’d rather go be with Jesus,” he said.
You see what I’m up against.
As I chopped cantaloupe that evening to mix with the berries I bought, I suggested to Jerry that he should ask himself at every meal, “Am I getting my antioxidants?” Once more the “I used to pin people to the wall with words,” look.
Over dinner, we talked about all the wonderful things he might eat like broccoli (which he likes), lots of fruit, and tomato products, which contain lycopene, a key component in his nutrition plan.
“I bought that tomato and vegetable beverage you like which has lots of lycopene. Would you like a glass?” I asked.
“That’s a morning drink,” he said. “I could never swallow it at night.”
Now, I won’t go into my theories as to why he thinks that way, but let’s just say it has something to do with his pre-walking with Jesus days.
After we finished eating, I served up a drink I’d bought which boasted a multitude of glorious, enriching nutrients and natural fruit juices. I took out two glasses and poured some for each of us.
It was thick…and green.
I knew he’d never even try his unless I drank mine. I took a deep breath, picked up my glass, and drained it.
“Yum,” I said. “Tastes great.” I smiled hoping I didn’t have green bits in my teeth.
“It looks like baby barf,” Jerry said. (Those are not exactly the words he used.) “I’m not drinking it.” He walked away.
Sigh. I agonized over the wasted money I'd spent on the five dollar concoction.
Later, I overheard Jerry ask our son, Aaron, if there was any pecan pie left. Sugar is a big no-no.
“You can’t eat pecan pie,” I said charging into the room.
He grinned. “Aaron said there wasn’t any pie left, but you didn’t hear my response.”
“What was that?”
“I said, 'Good.'”
I turned around and left the room remembering these words from Zechariah 4:10--“Who despises the day of small things?”
Not me, that’s for sure.
Anybody need two quarts of baby barf?