I’m sure you’ve heard this before. God was pretty busy during the whole creation thing. After the heavens and the earth, he created night and day, land and sea, animals, plants, and even humans. He worked his tail off to get all that done in 6 days. And on the seventh day, He rested. No wonder, He must have been pooped.
You may be thinking I’m going to write about the creationism debate or some such thing, but you’d be wrong. I’m just impressed at how task focussed God was, how hard He (who decided God wasn’t a “She” anyway?) worked, and how much He accomplished in less than a week. Way to go, God.
But over the last few weeks, I outdid Him. J. and I travelled, adventured, walked and explored for 13 whole days, culminating in a 528-step climb up the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral for a spectacular view of London. And on the 14th day, I rested. Our last full day in this wonderful place, I was so pooped, J. had to slow down with my snail’s pace. We ambled all day, enjoying our last opportunity to pretend we lived in this world so different from ours. Oh, and to disabuse you of the notion that this trip was all about me, we visited the pub one last time, which thankfully involved sitting.
As if my lasting 13 energetic days was not enough, I experienced many other miracles on this vacation. Small burn on my arm aside, I managed the full two weeks without any need for a doctor or medical care. I didn’t even get a cold. I could almost forget I had leukemia, and liver disease, and polycythemia. Except for the increasingly dark circles under my eyes, I think I could have passed for a heathy person.
And J., bless her soul, who had been hesitant about travelling with her partner of vulnerable health, found a way to let that go once our vacation was in full swing. That can’t have been easy. Her worry quotient diminished and her relaxed and happy quotient increased. More power to her.
And then I got home and stepped on the scale and, wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, I had not gained weight. I have been known to gain up to 10 lbs on a 2-week vacation, not of fat but of fluid, because of the saltiness of restaurant food, which my body rarely encounters. But neither of us enjoy gluttony when we’re on vacation; that’s why we enjoy breakfast and, most often, dinner in our holiday suite, and lunch out on the go. This time I somehow did not balloon like I always do. Divine intervention, perhaps?
We are home and I am now experiencing the miracle of pre-dawn productivity after a 4-a.m. wake up. I’m exaggerating: this morning, I made it ’til 5. Jet lag is my friend. Hence the batch of muffins and grocery store shop before arriving early to yoga yesterday morning. I doubt God could have accomplished that. If God made baking the priority that I do, Jews wouldn’t have to eat matzah for Passover.