Yesterday was a day spent in pastoral care, with a home visit in the morning and a trip up to the University of Michigan Hospital in the afternoon. UofM is my least favorite hospital to visit because it is an ordeal to get there, find parking, and wind your way through the hallways to find the room. But my ordeal is small compared to what the patients there are facing, so I should be more patient about that myself. I want to do better in pastoral care for my parishioners so I have begun a five-book reading expedition this fall. The first is The Practice of Pastoral Care: A Postmodern Approach, by Carrie Doehring, a professor at Iliff School of Theology. Reading is like soft rain falling on the mind — you hope it soaks in and over time new things grow.
But in the middle of these brainy things, I am pondering a fleshy, narcissistic question: How much should I weigh? I weigh 181 pounds now (82 kg). In the last year my body mass has shrunk by 28 percent. The official charts and numbers say I am still overweight and need to lose a few more pounds. But I feel fine and healthy the way I am, and I have reached the size I want to be. Maybe I should simply pay attention now to how my clothes fit rather than to a number on a scale compared to a number on a chart. Recently I came across an obituary of Reubin Andres, a gerontologist, whose research led him to conclude that starting in our forties we should add six pounds per decade to our healthy weight range; he found that adding a little fat to your body from middle age onward increases longevity. The medical community has not endorsed this, but it sounds wise to me.
This morning I am looking out the window at blue sky and changing leaves. Sunlight makes me smile. I feel healthy and at peace. I love being a pastor, and I want to do well with my parishioners.
Look at the incredible diversity of human beings, by race, age, gender, and just plain old uniqueness. Methinks one body mass chart cannot possibly be sufficient to determine what makes each of us healthy. I am with you Chris, feeling good and at peace outweighs absolute numbers on a chart.
….I concur..
JLS, thanks for your encouraging words.
Maybe your “extra” pounds represent muscle from all your walking?
Imagine how confusing UMH is on your back on a bed… ceiling after ceiling… you never have any sense of where you are. Every time I’m a patient there I mention to them that when one considers just how many people look at their ceilings that they should consider decorating them at least as well as their walls.
There is progress, though, the X-Ray lab across the street from Domino Farms (East of US 23 South of Plymouth Road) does have a nice filter over one of their lights (the one over the CAT Scan machine) so you look up through colored leaves into a blue sky. But some of that progress is undone because that same machine has a little black tag right above you that you can’t quite make out when you’re IN the machine. You look at it, and look at it to try to make out the print. Then when the scan is over, you look at it. It reads: “Do not stare at this light vision damage may result” – it’s a laser, used by the techs to place you in the machine in the proper position.
…im getting a rare pleasant sense of ‘community’ here this morning..much like in my AA meetings
UMH has great people working there — world class, no doubt — but the facility feels dated to me. Newer hospital construction pays more attention to the use of light and space. Ceilings in rooms and hallways are higher, and there is ample natural light, which makes for a more healing environment.
On another topic, I don’t know if I have more muscle than a year ago, but I certainly am bonier than before! My wife has commented on that. And with less ‘insulation’ than before, I expect to get colder this winter.