There have been MANY hospitalizations and surgeries in my life. Most of them have placed me in dire situations. One that comes to mind was when was I stricken with a post transplant illness. I remember entering the hospital during the month of September and leaving for one day in October, having to be readmitted and finally discharged a few days before Christmas. I lost 77 pounds during this ordeal. My body was weak and I felt and looked as a …walking skeleton. I was exiting from my room when I encountered my then 5 year old son. He looked at me with concern and I felt as a pathetic man through my sons eyes. I couldn’t fully stand up straight and was holding on to furniture just to move about. He approached me and said, “Dad, you don’t look good.” These words killed me inside. Here I was once this powerful man and in a few months I was reduced to a feeble being. He asked; “Can you drink milk?” I looked at him puzzling and answered, “Yes(?)”. “I think you need to go workout.” “You can have mom drive you there and don’t worry about me.” “Kadie (his older sister) can watch me and I will be ok.” “You need to go to your gym and workout now.” “To appease my son, I went to my then small fitness studio, BETTER U and attempted to workout. I sat on my power tec bench press machine (without weight the lever weighed around 12 pounds)…… I could barley lift it…… 😢. Even while writing this this, tears are flowing because of my memories of that moment. I persevered with a few sets with no weight. I would do a set, needing 10-15 minutes to recoup and attempt another. It took me 1 1/2 hours to do only 6 total sets. I returned home and climbed into bed from exhaustion. I felt so depressed of what my body had become. Of what I lost and of what the future would hold. Mitchell, after some time entered my room just as my eyes were closing. “How do you feel?” “Better?!” I must admit I lied when I nodded and smile. “Yes, I do.” He then handed me a glass of milk…. “Now, drink this.” I took the glass and started drinking the milk. As I was drinking he said; “Now, are you feeling even better?!” Something strange happened while drinking that small glass of milk. I felt the cool sensation of the drink coat my stomach as well as my dying spirit. My soul needed healing and while drinking that milk, looking into my sons positive eyes, I too found my faith through his positive outlook and belief. The belief that the “milk” would do my body good. The “milk” would coat my pain and heal my frail state. This was my salvation, my gospel, my healing. I needed the “milk” given by my son as those who take communion from their Priest or Ministers with the belief they will be redeemed. I believed and therefor, I was healed. Sometimes we all fall, but we need to look for our glass of milk because, “It does the body good.”
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