Psalm 62: “In you alone is my soul at rest. My help comes from you.”

Jake writes about one of his trips to a world-famed clinic for treatment of his cancer: “The initial chemo caused some hearing loss and slight hair loss but you’ve gotta take the good with the bad, I guess.  While at the clinic I have marveled at how easy I’ve got it compared to some folks we see in the hallways!” 

Similar thoughts come to my mind daily. As I go to the comfort and quiet of my favorite meal, breakfast, sights from the very recent past come to my mind. In pre-Covid days my colleague Adam and I visited disabled and/or immobile alumni and friends.

There is Lou, almost a total quadriplegic.  In addition to severe limitations, he suffers indescribable pain, the result of an accident. Someone brings the food to Lou’s mouth.

Then there are two brothers Chad and Evan, around 30 years of age, both afflicted with a very rare neurological disability. With time they lose mobility, ability to speak, the use of muscles. Etc. Evan has lost strength in mouth and throat muscles, so nourishment must be given through a tube into his stomach.

Dex, in his 50s and married, with a son in high school, developed ALS a few years ago. While somehow retaining a sense of humor he now must receive nourishment through a tube, and winter is one long lockdown.

Ted, married some forty years, spends most of each day with wife Deb who as the result of a stroke cannot move her limbs or speak. Ted reads to her; speaks to her. As he does, her eyes go back and forth as she listens.

I can’t help thinking of these dear people as I sit down to the comfort and even joy of my breakfast. Why would I ever complain that the coffee is lukewarm, the muffin too dry, the people around too loud? At the very least I pray for the suffering and disabled. The Communion of Saints, that union of Christians with Christ and with each other, tells me we may by prayer be offering some solace, some hope.

We call it perspective: the lessons we hale and hearty share; the different take on the world around us we may gain; the increased patience, awareness of others who cannot share our comfort and ease, our taste. It can lead us to sympathy, support for research and prayer.

Even hope! Ted reports saying recently to usually mute Deb, “How are you doing?” To his surprise he hears a few rare words of hope: “Not as good as you.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Psalm 27: “I believe I shall see the Lord’s goodness / in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord; be strong; / be stouthearted, and wait for the Lord!”

Reply to Fr. Don at: DTalafous@csbsju.edu

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