I was Googling heart attack symptoms at 4am this morning.

An hour and a half earlier massive heartburn woke me up. Two Zantacs and 3 Tums later, no relief.

Lord, I don’t want to die today. My fantasy football draft is tomorrow. I’m the defending champion. The Hail Marys rule.

I think I heard Him say, “I didn’t force feed you those fried pork chops at dinner.”

No you did not.

But do You know how long it’s been since I had them? I guess You do.

I had the first delicious one(yes the first) with sautéed squash and zucchini, candied carrots and homemade macaroni and cheese. I could have stopped then. I should have ceased and desisted, but my raging taste buds could not be resisted.

I ate the second one with as much gusto as the first. I was stuffed. I think a button popped. But I looked at Keely’s plate and there sat a leftover half.

It looked so lonely.

I was full, but I wasn’t yet miserable and my cravings hadn’t been appeased.

Miserable came as a wakeup call 7 hours later.

Every action has a reaction. Every cause an effect. Every fried pork chop, heart pains. Maybe…by the third one anyway. I did this to myself. No one else to blame. I consider the 2:30am chest pains a divine warning alarm designed to tell me to stop being stupid.

Is God sending warning signs to you about something you need to stop doing? He will.

Don’t be Bruce Almighty and fail to see them…

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