Everyone is supposed to have a calling. I wonder sometimes if maybe I’ve missed mine.

Maybe I haven’t.

Let’s catch up a little, first.

It has been a busy year in my little corner of the Dallas/Fort Worth Metromess. Like so many other people, I have been confined mostly to the house because of Covid-19. Given that I am in the prime age group to wind up in the hospital and/or dead should I catch the disease, I had decided to become a hermit until those times when I needed to go to the grocery store, or to outdoor services at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, or to take the dog Filbrix to Farmersville to walk on the Chaparral Trail.

I learned to operate within the confines of the house. Thankfully there was video conferencing.

When Covid raised its ugly head, I was more than halfway through the first year of something called Education For Ministry, or, EFM. It didn’t take long for members of our Thursday morning class to adapt to using our video conferencing link to continue the class almost as if nothing had happened. We finished the first year and slid quite nicely into the second year of our study with an overall view of what do we think of as being our calling.

I was quick to come to the conclusion that our calling is something within us… something we can do to share ourselves with others. The question became how to share.

The “how to share” came from an unexpected series of events.

Just before Covid-19 became a pandemic, I went to have my yearly eye exam. Something the doctor and I were keeping an eye on was the pressure inside my eyeballs. Since my maternal grandmother had glaucoma, we decided to err on the side of caution and go for testing at an ophthalmologist. I had insurance for the first time since I started seeing my eye doctor, so, I thought it prudent to follow her suggestion.

The good news was that I was able to get set up with an ophthalmologist somewhat quickly. The not as good news was that in order to use my insurance benefit, I had to be referred by my Primary Care Physician. Since I did not have a primary care physician, I had to establish one.

It took a while, but I was finally able to connect with a PCP by way of a telehealth link. I had a referral, I went in for testing and found that while I didn’t have an inkling of glaucoma, I needed to see the ophthalmologist again in a year, just to make sure.

I was also on the hook to see my PCP in person. Which I did. One of the first things he recommended was that I see a specialist to have a colonoscopy done. Something I didn’t particularly want to do. I dragged my feet. I had a follow-up visit with the PCP and he nagged me… making sure that the specialist’s office called me to have the colonoscopy.

I wrote a piece I posted on Facebook telling people that I was a patented coward, but I was going ahead to have the procedure done anyway. I got a fair number of hits on the piece, as well as a few comments.

Two days after having gone through the procedure (which wasn’t as bad as all that), the doctor called and told me that I had cancer.

Talk about something life changing. The only thing worse would have been not to have heard the diagnosis because I was laid out on a slab in the morgue not caring about anything.

Through the next month and a half, I posted news of my condition on Facebook, including updates with the good news that the cancer was localized and my doctors believe that they got it all. Each time I posted, I got lots of hits, lots of encouragement.

Which brings me back to the question of what I am supposed to do. What is my calling? I’m beginning to think that my calling is writing essays much like the one I am writing now, peppering it with little bits of humor, and giving people a good feeling – not particularly about me, but about themselves.

So here I am. In the last third of my journey on this mortal coil and I think I may have found myself a little niche. We’ll have to see. For now, I’m going to cap off the evening with a quick bowl of Corn Pops and head off to bed.

Be Seeing You!