Finding My Voice Again

There are few moments as adults when we truly wish we were kids again. I don't mean the usual times like when we hate work or just reminisce about what Christmas morning used to feel like. Rather, I mean when we wish we could experience something as children because it is just plain easier. I am now two weeks into my recovery from having my tonsils removed. It is not something that I would recommend for the faint of heart. Keep in mind that I am a bit of a baby as my wife will surely attest to. But when I began this process with my doctors about inquiring into a way to end my endless throat infections I was optimistic about it being simple. My surgeon did warn me that it would not be a walk in the park and several older parishioners regaled me with tales of their experiences in the 1940's and 1950's with kitchen tables, ether, and cold steel. Needless to say that I was glad I lived in the 21st century.

I have always believed that no matter what the experience, a person can gain some valuable insight on their life and their faith. In this experience I learned to appreciate the relationships I have with my parents and my wife. I recognized the compassion and gentleness they had for me as I tried to regain my strength, dealt with enormous amounts of pain, and was frustrated.

But this experience has also made me think about those who have no one to care for them. I had my tonsils out. I didn't have open heart surgery or a bone marrow transplant. My biggest annoyance was not being able to french fries for a couple of weeks. I can't begin to fathom the loneliness or frustration felt by parents or children, patients and doctors over diseases and ailments that have no cure, that cause so much suffering and attempt to compromise our dignity. I think about how fortunate I am. I think about the two good hands and feet I have and the brain that works (most of the time). I think about the opportunity I have to help people. That's when I think about becoming a priest.

So now I am in the stage where I wait for my voice to return to what it was before the surgery. It won't be near what I am used to or what I need for my work for at least another two or three weeks. In that time, I'll take that opportunity to listen more and to talk less. I'll take that time to think about what I want to teach others in my preaching and to listen to some good preachers. I'll learn what it means to serve from those who have so graciously served me.