This is the motto of Sunderland and on my friend Vivien's family crest. When there are three people in the family with stomach flu, this is the phrase that immediately comes to mind. Although when my oldest, who is, as I keep reminding him, on his way to college, and old enough to know better, rails on the youngest, who is puking her guts out, I tell him to "Appeal to the better part of your soul," rather stupidly, I now recognize. "Soul" he spits at me in disgust as if he's been licking the bitter apple that I've sprayed everywhere to prevent the puppy peeing in the house, "Soul?" So apparently he's not going to adhere to the "Trust in God" part.
When my mother was small and the children fell ill, her grandmother would make a bed downstairs for them, in the drawing room, as a treat during the day. She said something about two chairs pushed together which sounds rather uncomfortable to me, but I do recognize as a child how exciting it is to have special treatment. So duly, I've thrown a old sheet over the sofa, and transferred Minks' dyne (duvet) to the tv room, where she can watch virtually unwatchable movies about children stranded in an airport at Christmastime, while moaning pitifully and sipping water delicately through a straw. The other one, wearing a permanent furrow between his eyebrows, is walking about in boxers and grumbling to himself. As dull as this may be to read, imagine what it's like living it, especially on a diet of water.