Autumn has fallen

With each passing year the season of autumn means for me – above everything else – the beginning of several months of slowing down and committing myself to very little, not knowing what each day will do to my joints. The cooling temperatures, the falling leaves and the increasing clouds herald the coming of that destroyer, winter, and the undeniable return of arthritis within my joints.

Yesterday, being Veterans’ Day, the parish office was closed. With this in mind, Monday evening I started to put a pseudo-plan together to visit a friend in Springfield whom I haven’t seen in many months.

Awaking yesterday morning I found a chilly and wet morning, which is always a bad combination for arthritis. What was more, the forecast throughout the day promised little more than chilly temperatures and more rain. The forecast in Springfield called for the same and my friend – who knows the state of my health – advised against my driving there and back.

With nothing else planned yesterday I set about the annual task of packing up my spring and summer clothing, sorting out what to store and what to give away. It is amazing how many t-shirts I can acquire over one year’s time.

Today I awoke to a very similar morning as yesterday, though it is a bit warmer. Nevertheless, I could tell a noticeable difference in the level of inflammation in my joints today over yesterday: today it is worse in my left hip (my other joints are fine).

I was to go to the Catholic Pastoral Center today for annulment advocacy training, but checking the forecasts again and using a bit of good old-fashioned common sense I called ahead to say that I would not be coming. They will send the materials to me and I will try to attend the second session a week from today.

Nonetheless, my spirits are good. This is an annual adjustment and something I simply have to live with so long as I live in the Midwest. It does, though, cause me concern for my future as a Pastor. How effective of a Pastor can I be if I have not always the energy and stamina necessary to carry out the duties entrusted to me?

As a Parochial Vicar, I have, thankfully, very few duties. My primary duty is to celebrate the Sacraments when the Pastor cannot do so. I have the strength to do this, though there will soon come some Sundays when even this will be difficult (I can celebrate two Sunday Masses easily enough, but a third Mass saps my reserves completely, and even more so in the winter).

Aside from these duties, I carry out others as the Pastor gives them. Since he gives very few to me I often set about things that interest me, like Bible studies, short classes on various topics and helping out with the soccer team.

One day during lunch last week one of our wrestlers asked if I would be the “assistant coach” for the team. I told him I would think about it and would get back to him. When I returned later that afternoon as classes ended I learned he already told everybody I accepted. So now that soccer season is ended, I guess I’m “helping” with the wrestling team, which really just means hanging around and telling a few jokes. And keeping bottles of water handy. The positive side for me is that the wrestlers will keep me accountable to real exercise and to lifting a few weights, which will help keep the arthritis at bay (and fulfill doctor’s orders that I’ve had for a few years now), if only a little more.

The next day the cross country team and then the track team asked me to be their “assistant coach” as well. This is all very strange to me. I accepted the invitation of the track team but declined the cross country team as they compete during the soccer season. I really don’t’ quite understand why they keep asking me to help out – especially given my very public dislike of athletics – but since they do, I think I have to say yes.

I am now into my fourth year here at St. Anthony’s and I suspect my days here are – as it were – numbered. I hope and pray that more will not be asked of me in the future than I can physically do. Being but thirty years of age and looking younger than most in their early thirties (despite my gray hair), it is often difficult for those older than me – whether priests or laity - to understand that I simply do not have the stamina that they have in the autumn and winter months (and sometimes even in the spring and summer months).

Sometimes I want to echo the words of that fibromyalgia commercial: “If I looked as bad as I feel, then would you believe me?”

Just a few gloomy thoughts for a gloomy day.