Where have you been? This is a question I have been asked a lot lately. People had wondered if I was reassigned to another parish, as I have not been serving at daily mass or many of the weekend masses on a consistent basis. I thought today, on Ash Wednesday, it would be a good time to let those who are concerned know my story.

At the end of September 2025, I was admitted to the hospital for a few days due to concerns about my heart. The tests, however, showed no heart attack and only mild (normal) blockage in the arteries. The following weeks were a search for what was causing my symptoms. Through a lot of tests and doctor visits, I received the diagnosis on January 5th that I have “Systemic Sclerosis” or “Scleroderma“. This is a disease that both my mother and grandmother died from. It was a little ironic that I received the diagnosis on my mother’s birthday!

Systemic sclerosis (scleroderma) is a chronic autoimmune disease in which the immune system mistakenly attacks the body’s own tissues, especially small blood vessels and connective tissue, leading to inflammation and scarring in different organs over time. In my case, the main diagnosis is systemic sclerosis with interstitial lung disease (ILD), which means there is inflammation and scarring in the lungs that makes breathing harder, triggers coughing, and leaves me easily short of breath and worn out. I also have inflammation in my joints and gut, which causes a lot of pain and contributes to deep fatigue, brain fog, and trouble sleeping. My heart is part of this story too, with rhythm issues and extra beats that can be unsettling and painful, even when my heart muscle itself is structurally okay. Put simply, even on days when I may “look fine” on the outside, my lungs, heart, joints, and digestive system are working harder than they should, and that takes a real toll on my energy and clarity.

Because of these organ‑level problems and the risk of further damage, my doctors have started me on immunosuppressant treatment, along with other medications to support my heart and help manage symptoms. That means the next several months will involve a lot of medical appointments, monitoring, and adjustments, and I also need to be more careful about exposure to infections and about how I spend my limited energy. Practically, this will mean you may not see as much of me around the parish: I may be at fewer public events, take on fewer liturgies and ministries than usual, and sometimes need to leave early or rest rather than stay to visit.

My love for our parish and my sense of calling as a deacon have not changed, but the way I live that vocation for a while will have to be quieter and more hidden. I’m asking for your patience as I navigate this new reality, and most especially for your prayers for Lisa and my family.

One unexpected grace in all of this has been how deeply it has drawn me into the heart of the Church’s spirituality, especially through St. Thérèse of Lisieux and her “little way.” In learning to accept my limitations and daily sufferings, I’ve begun to see them as concrete opportunities to offer myself to God: for my own purification, in reparation for sin, and for the salvation of souls. Each flare of pain, each night of poor sleep, each moment of fear or exhaustion can be quietly placed on the paten with the bread and wine, united to Jesus’ own offering of Himself for us. This Lent, I intend to live my forty days in a very deliberate union with the Passion of Christ—praying for the Church, for our parish community, and for a deep grace of repentance and conversion wherever it is needed. My hope is that, hidden in this illness and weakness, the Lord is at work in ways we cannot see, pouring His mercy on many through very small and ordinary acts of trust and surrender.

Thank you for your prayers and concern. I’m praying for you, too, as I “offer it up” to be united to Jesus’ cross and heart. This Lenten season, I pray we all find ways to intercede for our families and communities, for the world, and for the church. Jesus invites us to receive His suffering in many ways. Jesus often offers us a thorn from His crown and reminds us:

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

(2 Corinthians 12:9)