There was a great irony when  I sat down to begin brainstorming for this bulletin column…I fell asleep. Why is that ironic? Because this column is to   let you all know that I have been diagnosed with a sleep disorder. If you have ever noticed me yawning a lot during confessions or  appearing to be asleep  during the readings (but never a deacon homily!), it is not because I am bored, but because I have a sleep disorder. It is  also super fitting that my mom got me a sleeping  St. Joseph statue for my birthday.  At my previous parish, I once stood up for the Alleluia at Mass only to start drifting off to sleep so I didn’t realize that the deacon standing in front of me. He startled me awake by asking for my blessing before he read the Gospel. My  frequent tiredness has led to many funny  moments over the years.

While the symptoms go many years back, I had my first of two multi-day detailed sleep studies in 2017 and 2019. After two different sleep doctors that were only somewhat helpful, I saw a third sleep doctor in April of this year. He is a specialist in    neurological sleep disorders, and he changed  my diagnosis to narcolepsy type 2. This name is      somewhat fluid, as I don’t fit neatly into any one   diagnosis. One of the challenges is that naps are rarely restorative for me. I am comically bad at
waking up. I am optimistic that this doctor will be helpful in finding the right treatment plan moving forward between medication and lifestyle tweaks.
 
I am beginning the treatment, which will include  trying various daytime medications. I ask for your prayers and patience during this time so that we can find the right path forward. There have already been, and will likely be, weekdays when I do not have the energy to preach. I also want to assure you that you do not need to worry or be   concerned, as I will likely have noticeable ups and downs in my energy and focus as we try different routes over the next several months. In talking about what I was going to write in this column, I spoke with someone who also      has a chronic condition. She said, “When people find out, things will be different. I’m the same       person, but they want to do things for me, ask me about it… even if they have the best intentions,  it’s frustrating. I’d rather have someone pray for me and not tell me about it than to ask me how I’m doing.” As part of human nature, we tend to want to do physical things to help people and give them physical gifts. Those are good things and have their proper place. But my friend’s point is a beautiful reminder in the power and strength of spiritual gifts—praying for each other quietly.  So, I simply and humbly ask for your prayers. I will do my best to offer my difficulties and     frustrations that stem from narcolepsy for all of you as your priest. I know that it is something I will always have with me—this is part of who I am. I am not looking for a cure, but rather the  best way to manage it to do what God is asking    of me.
 
On Good Friday, I mentioned in the homily that sometimes we tend to compare crosses, to think someone else’s cross would be easier. I was definitely preaching to myself that day. I often wish I could have a different cross, but I just have to remind myself that this is the cross that Jesus   is asking me to carry for all of you. That every frustration is an invitation from the hand of God the Father to love my parishioners. I am definitely a long way away from embracing this cross well every time, but I promise to do my best. To do my best for all of you.
 
St. Joseph, pray for us!
In Mary’s Immaculate Heart,
Fr. Jeff