Next Monday (August 17), I’ll have surgery to restore some strength to my vocal cords, which, I hope, will allow me to speak in more than a whisper throughout the day. As much as I’ve been able to project so as to bounce my voice off the far wall of many a sanctuary, it’s frustrating in closer conversation or on the telephone when my voice simply gives out.
So, before the pandemic, I had a check up with a local Ear-Nose-Throat specialist, who diagnosed my problem as atrophy. I’m glad to report there were no nodules or other problems found. The surgeon postponed this procedure for five months due to Covid-19, but his office called last week to say they had me scheduled. I was glad to hear this, and I found it convenient that the surgery would take place when I would be “off duty” and on vacation the following Sunday.
However, I was not so happy when the hospital called to say they scheduled me for a pre-op Covid test tomorrow (Thursday), after which I must promise not to leave home until I show up for Monday’s surgery. “But I have to conduct worship and preach,” I protested. “No, you cannot and you must not,” came the firm reply.
So, I won’t see you for two Sundays; or, as things have been, I should probably say you won’t see me. Nevertheless I’ll be with you again on August 30 and through the four Sundays of September before (presumably) I step away from my role as your Transitional Pastor, a role, I’ll be telling you again, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed.