Papa has been lying ill for weeks.  A few days ago
he slipped into a coma, and everyone feared the
worst.  The Bishop is called, and calls the family
together.  The son comes from Miami, the daughter
from Boise.  All the grandchildren, aunts and uncles
come and all sat waiting for the end.

Suddenly a miracle!  Papa opens his eyes.  Weakly he
motions for his son to approach so he can hear talk
to him.  Being weak from illness his voice is very
faint as he says, "I've been ill?"  "Yes, papa,"
replies the son with tears choking his voice, "very ill."

Papa nods and speaks again, "I had a dream, I was
nearing death when I suddenly smelled the aroma of your
mother's apple strudel.  I love that strudel.  As
wonderful a cook as my Mollie is, that strudel is her
masterpiece."  He lays back against the pillow weak from
the exertion of speaking.

"What a wonderful dream, Papa, but the smell is real.
Mama just took the strudel out of the oven to cool."

"A miracle!" cries Papa as he tries to rise, and weakly
falls against the pillows.  He turns to his son and says,
"I'm still too weak to get up.  Go to the kitchen and get
for me a piece of your Mama's strudel."

The son obediently rises and leaves the room to fulfill
his father's request . . . only to return a few moments
later empty handed.  He sits again by his father's side.
Papa looks at him and says, "Where is the strudel?"

The son replies, "I'm sorry Papa,  Mama says it's for
AFTER the funeral!"