FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 11th – 18th FEBRUARY 2024
I recently discovered that the incredibly gifted daughter of a friend of mine in Dublin, after suffering a health scare, has been diagnosed with having protrusions between the vertebrae. Part of the medical advice she has been given is that she should stop going to the gym, which she enjoyed doing on a very regular basis, and that, especially, she should not exercise using weights. I was glad to hear that it was nothing more serious than that but, at the same time, I could very much empathise with her as, quite a number of years ago now, I can’t remember exactly when, I was also diagnosed with having protrusions between the vertebrae. I did not need to be advised to avoid the gym, as that was not something I was inclined to do anyway. A few times over the years I had made the occasional effort, but it never lasted. Back in the early 1970’s, after returning from a holiday on the Isle of Barra, myself and some friends decided we needed to lose some weight, and so we took out membership in a gym on Queen Street. We started going about three times a week after work, but it fizzled out quite quickly, especially as we usually ended up going for a bite to eat and a drink afterwards, and ended up putting on more weight. In 1995, when I transferred as Novice Master from Minsteracres Monastery in County Durham, to the Passionist Retreat at Cloonamahon in County Sligo, Father Augustine, whom many readers of this log will remember from his time at St Mungo’s, and who is now resident at Mount Argus, tried to encourage me to join the local gym that he attended. The gym was called Better Bodies but, to be honest, I saw no evidence of any kind of better body taking shape in me, nor in him, and so that didn’t last long either.
The reason for my protrusions was simply wear and tear, mainly caused by my foolish tendency, even as I got older, to do a lot of lifting and shifting of heavy stuff around the church, when really, I should have been getting others to help me. If chairs, benches, tables, or whatever, needed to be moved from one place to another, to facilitate a liturgical service, sometimes even up and down flights of stairs, I would just, lacking patience, go ahead and do it, and then wonder why I had a sore back afterwards. When the pain got more severe, I was referred for scans, and was diagnosed as having protrusions between the 3rd and 4th vertebrae. It was decided that no surgery was required at that time, but that I should quit the heavy lifting to avoid more serious deterioration. Accordingly, a little team of people from Mount Argus parish established themselves as my minders and movers, and God help me if any of them saw me doing any lifting and shifting on my own. Providentially, as it turned out, it was while getting these scans that it was discovered I had some nodules on my thyroid, and that did lead to necessary surgery, and a partial thyroid removal, just a couple of months before I moved to St Mungo’s in 2016. The ongoing effects of my protrusions, other than avoiding heavy lifting, is that I can’t really bend down very well. This means, every three months or so, going to a podiatrist to get my toenails cut and, if I drop something on the ground, I need to physically kneel down to pick it up again. Even Father Justinian at 92, and my brother, with all his adverse health conditions, can bend down much more easily than I can. I always hope that, when I have to do this, anybody who is looking on just thinks I am very holy, and that I like spending lots of time on my knees in prayer. Still, it’s a very small price to pay for my stubborn foolishness, and lack of bodily discipline over the years, that brought it about.
Hopefully I am able to muster more discipline, not just of the body, but of the spirit, mind and soul too, as we enter into another Lent, the church’s springtime season; even though, as we begin it this year, we are still in winter. As always there were big attendances at Masses, both in St Mungo’s and St Roch’s, to be signed with ashes. May we not waste this special time of grace, and enjoy a disciplined, and blessed, 40 days and nights of growth in the Lord.
As ever, protect yourself, your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.
I recently discovered that the incredibly gifted daughter of a friend of mine in Dublin, after suffering a health scare, has been diagnosed with having protrusions between the vertebrae. Part of the medical advice she has been given is that she should stop going to the gym, which she enjoyed doing on a very regular basis, and that, especially, she should not exercise using weights. I was glad to hear that it was nothing more serious than that but, at the same time, I could very much empathise with her as, quite a number of years ago now, I can’t remember exactly when, I was also diagnosed with having protrusions between the vertebrae. I did not need to be advised to avoid the gym, as that was not something I was inclined to do anyway. A few times over the years I had made the occasional effort, but it never lasted. Back in the early 1970’s, after returning from a holiday on the Isle of Barra, myself and some friends decided we needed to lose some weight, and so we took out membership in a gym on Queen Street. We started going about three times a week after work, but it fizzled out quite quickly, especially as we usually ended up going for a bite to eat and a drink afterwards, and ended up putting on more weight. In 1995, when I transferred as Novice Master from Minsteracres Monastery in County Durham, to the Passionist Retreat at Cloonamahon in County Sligo, Father Augustine, whom many readers of this log will remember from his time at St Mungo’s, and who is now resident at Mount Argus, tried to encourage me to join the local gym that he attended. The gym was called Better Bodies but, to be honest, I saw no evidence of any kind of better body taking shape in me, nor in him, and so that didn’t last long either.
The reason for my protrusions was simply wear and tear, mainly caused by my foolish tendency, even as I got older, to do a lot of lifting and shifting of heavy stuff around the church, when really, I should have been getting others to help me. If chairs, benches, tables, or whatever, needed to be moved from one place to another, to facilitate a liturgical service, sometimes even up and down flights of stairs, I would just, lacking patience, go ahead and do it, and then wonder why I had a sore back afterwards. When the pain got more severe, I was referred for scans, and was diagnosed as having protrusions between the 3rd and 4th vertebrae. It was decided that no surgery was required at that time, but that I should quit the heavy lifting to avoid more serious deterioration. Accordingly, a little team of people from Mount Argus parish established themselves as my minders and movers, and God help me if any of them saw me doing any lifting and shifting on my own. Providentially, as it turned out, it was while getting these scans that it was discovered I had some nodules on my thyroid, and that did lead to necessary surgery, and a partial thyroid removal, just a couple of months before I moved to St Mungo’s in 2016. The ongoing effects of my protrusions, other than avoiding heavy lifting, is that I can’t really bend down very well. This means, every three months or so, going to a podiatrist to get my toenails cut and, if I drop something on the ground, I need to physically kneel down to pick it up again. Even Father Justinian at 92, and my brother, with all his adverse health conditions, can bend down much more easily than I can. I always hope that, when I have to do this, anybody who is looking on just thinks I am very holy, and that I like spending lots of time on my knees in prayer. Still, it’s a very small price to pay for my stubborn foolishness, and lack of bodily discipline over the years, that brought it about.
Hopefully I am able to muster more discipline, not just of the body, but of the spirit, mind and soul too, as we enter into another Lent, the church’s springtime season; even though, as we begin it this year, we are still in winter. As always there were big attendances at Masses, both in St Mungo’s and St Roch’s, to be signed with ashes. May we not waste this special time of grace, and enjoy a disciplined, and blessed, 40 days and nights of growth in the Lord.
As ever, protect yourself, your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.
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