A quick visit to the doctor this morning for my annual 'hypertension review' which, I suppose, is to check if my condition has changed and if the medication is still doing its job. Some time ago, using a blood pressure measuring device at home, I discovered that the first few readings were invariably high., and then it levelled off. Whenever I went for a checkup at the surgery, the result of their measurements was generally similar, causing furrowed brows of concern, and another visit to schedule. Over the past year I have shed excess weight and changed eating and drinking habits, perhaps as a result of spending four months in Mediterranean lands. When you feel really well and fairly fit, what's to worry about?
After my previous visit I indulged in a spell of obsessive behaviour and took my BP twice daily, before during and after our holiday in Pembrokeshire, taking readings multiple times and averaging them out after eliminating the highest and lowest pair, each time. I was satisfied with the outcome of three weeks' effort, and showed the chart I'd compiled in 'Libre Office' to my long suffering GP, who graciously accepted that it showed nothing to worry about. On average it's lower than it was a year ago, lower than when I retired, lower than when I was compelled to close down St James' church and clear the building with very little support from on high. Stress can certainly be very damaging to middle aged clerics at risk of forgetting to look after their health properly, and that was certainly the case with me five years ago. But you learn the hard way, don't you?
The freedom of retirement has done me a power of good. I still take on responsibilities and enjoy the work I get asked to do, but the pressure and stress of obligation that goes with being a licensed office holder of the church, depending on it for accommodation and income, is no longer there. When I was younger, being provided for, not having to worry about money or shelter was a blessing, and all that was asked of me was that I should flourish in ministry wherever I was planted. I think I did my best, but as the decades rolled by, it became increasingly difficult to feel satisfied with my best, ever inadequate to a situation changing for the worse. I guess that's how family carers for highly dependent sick people may feel, when it seems nothing they can do will make their loved one better - hence the stress.
Three years into retirement I make every opportunity I can to support colleagues and congregations that need gaps in pastoral care plugging. I'm aware it's appreciated. Occasionally I wish there was something more in depth I could do, working with groups or individuals to grow their faith. Being available here and there as a locum pastor is a bit like being a bee or a butterfly flitting from plant to plant - an analogy I recall hearing from Ken Cracknell, an itinerant inter-faith theologian thirty years ago - I must remind myself that all that flitting around is a means of cross-pollination, bringing fresh insight while rehearsing ancient truth.. Whether that contributes to ultimate fruitfulness, we may never know.
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