About a week ago I finished reading David Copperfield. Another good thing about being ill was that I got to read that book! Been wanting to for AGES. Anyway, a little while ago I read the following excerpt. Lack of a computer just meant I couldn't post it. But here we go!
'"How is Mr Omer after this long time?" said I, going in.
He fanned away the smoke of his pipe, that he might get a
better view of me, and soon recognized me with great delight.
"I should get up, sir, to acknowledge such an honour as this visit," said he,
"only my limbs are rather out of sorts, and I am wheeled about. With the
exception of my limbs and my breath, however, I am as
hearty as a man can be, I'm thankful to say."
I congratulated him on his contented looks and his good spirits,
and saw, now, that his easy chair went on wheels.
"It's an ingenious thing, ain't it?" he enquired, following the
direction of my glance, and polishing the elbow with his arm.
"It runs as light as a feather, and tracks as true as a mail coach.
Bless you, my little Minnie -my grand-daughter you know,
Minnie's child - puts her little strength against the back, gives it a shove,
and away we go, as clever and merry as you ever see anything!
And I tell you what - it's a most uncommon chair to smoke a pipe in."
I never saw such a good old fellow to make the best of a thing,
and find out the enjoyment of it, as Mr Omer. He was as radiant as if his chair,
his asthma, and the failure of his limbs, were the various branches of
a great invention for enhancing the luxury of a pipe.
"I see more of the world, I can assure you," said Mr Omer,
"in this chair than ever I see out of it. You'd be surprised at the number of
people that looks in of a day to have a chat. You really would!
There's twice as much in the newspaper, since I've taken to this chair,
as there used to be. As to general reading, dear me, what a lot of it I do get through!
That's what I feel so strong, you know!
If it had been my eyes, what should I have done? If it had been my ears,
what should I have done? Being my limbs, what does it signify?
Why, my limbs only make my breath shorter when I used 'em.
And now, if I want to go out into the street or down to the sands,
I've only got to call Dick, Joram's youngest 'prentice, and away I go
in my own carriage, like the lord Mayor of London."
He half suffocated himself with laughing here.
"Lord bless you!" said Mr Omer, resuming his pipe, "A man must take
the fat with the lean, that's what he must make his mind to, in this life.
Joram does a fine business, excellent business!"
"A am very glad to hear it," said I.
"I knew you would be," said Mr Omer. "And Joram and Minnie
are like valentines. What more can a man expect? What's his limbs to that!"
His supreme contempt for his own limbs, as he sat smoking,
was one of the pleasantest oddities I have ever encountered."
Oh, to be like Mr Omer! Seeing not the problems, the inconveniences, associated with this pain. But rejoicing in it! Rejoicing not in newfound time to read the paper (or smoke a pipe, for that matter), but in newfound time to read God's word. Rejoicing always that I'm saved, and that gives me cause for joy however I'm feeling - physically or otherwise. Seeing this time, feeling this pain, not as a hindrance but a blessing.
When, as we heard at Word Alive from Roger Carswell, Matthew Henry was robbed by a highwayman, he was still thankful. Why?!
1. He'd never been robbed before
2. The highwayman took all he had, but not his life
3. Although everything was taken, it wasn't much in the first place
4. He was robbed, not the one who did the robbing!
There is ALWAYS something to be thankful for!
PRAISE THE LORD!!
