A Message from Fr. Brent
May 14, 2022
I wish you well on the 5th Sunday of Easter. I hope the gorgeous weather is bolstering your spirits. It is mine.
I am continuing in the process of diagnosis and treatment. We’ve crossed a lot of things off the list, but nothing as of yet is conclusive. We have two possibilities now we are pursuing at the same time. One is rather invasive, the other starts with physical therapy before resorting to needles. If one of those lines of inquiry reveal the source(s) of my problems, hallelujah! If not we’ll head back to Mass General.
The other news is that my Short Term Disability leave has been extended to July 6. Besides a wonky fax machine, AFLAC has been pretty easy to work with. I am so thankful for this coverage. It has taken a lot of stress off of the church and myself, but this extention is a little like being in jail and learning that you are moving to a better cell. That’s great and all, but all things considered I’d rather be on my way home.
Windy asked me what to tell people when they ask how I am doing. She’ll give some variation of this theme: “I do wish I had better news for you all but you know, it is hard. The headaches are bad every day and the interventions haven’t been very successful yet. And with all that he’s doing pretty darn ok. A form of meditation he ran into has been extremely helpful and he is up and about in ways he hasn’t been for a while. Oh he has his bad moments (ok, bad afternoons), but he also has really good moments (and some pretty good mornings sometimes, too).”
She will also tell you how much we all have been so touched by the cards and meals and prayers. We feel surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses and the love is palpable. Thank you.
Obviously none of this is what we want to be happening, but grace happens even in the lousiest, most unlikely situations. I noticed that the oaks on Cape Rosier flowered overnight on Thursday. I am usually moving too fast to notice those kinds of changes as they happen. A pair of ospreys flies over the farmyard a little after 9 each morning. Who has for the time to notice such things? I am walking each morning, a little farther each day, and I pack up the homing pigeons and release them at the zenith of my walk. That is some high excitement in my world right now, and I find it delightful, even when my sensitivity to light means I can’t look up very much. Even when it is really bad, I am learning a lot about myself, what resources I have within and how dependent I am on others; how my faith and the grace of God intersect in such unlikely ways; and, how truly grateful I am that we are part of this community. Again, thank you.
God bless you all. I’ll keep you posted.