Reflections on Saturdays

In past days, if my Sunday sermon and liturgy were completed, if there were no church or community activities I needed to attend, and, if there was no ill parishioner to visit, Saturday was my date of rest--my Sabbath. It was the day of the week during which my activities were less other-directed and could be more self-directed.

It was on Saturdays that I would walk in a park or explore hiking trail through some strange forest, often with Muffin by my side. It was on Saturdays that I would drive to Louisville, Indianapolis, St. Louis, or Nashville and investigate a store or entertainment that I had only heard about. It was on Saturdays that I ceased being Reverend Temple or Pastor Nick or whatever folks decided to call me during the rest of the week. It was on Saturdays that I…could…be…just…me.

Since my disabilities and subsequent retirement changed my life all that is different. Now Saturday is just like every other day of the week. Even Sunday is like every other day of the week. Or, perhaps I should say that now every other day of the week in for me a Saturday.

I miss the special nature of my Saturdays. I miss the structure of the other six days of the week.

I only realized that recently… since I have had a nurse or a physician or a physical therapist or an occupational therapist in my home almost every Monday through Friday since my hospitalization. Those days are no longer mine; those days are not structured around the schedules of others. That’s good, because now Saturday (and Sunday) are special again. I do not have to be at home and awake when the nurse or physician or a physical therapist or an occupational therapist come by. I can explore and do what I want to.

Of course, there is one limitation to my freedom on Saturday (and Sunday and every other day of the week). You know, Saturday is also Caturday and Alex’s needs trump everything else. That’s exactly the way I would have it!

Remember Daw Aung San Suu Kyi

Still on Trial in Burma