Monday, December 8, 2008

November 2008 – The still, small voice

One pleasant surprise last month came in the form of some comments on my blog. Sherry Weddell, whose radio interview first inspired me to discern my charisms, wrote some kind words, as did Kathleen Lundquist, who is also involved with the Sienna Institute. I was very happy to hear from them, even as I became more and more convinced that writing is most likely a passion of mine, but not a charismatic gift. Their contact encouraged me to continue with the discernment process, despite my slow progress.

I was also feeling better about my volunteer experiences. I had finally started working one-on-one with clients who needed help with their resumes and online job applications, and found it quite rewarding. I gained a great deal of insight into the plights of our clients, which made me even more thankful for my own cushy life. I only hoped my listening ears and meager help could bring them a little comfort, too.

But the most wonderful experience that befell me this fall was hearing the voice of God. I had been fascinated with this possibility ever since reading Dallas Willard’s book on the subject. In “Hearing God”, Willard mentions several ways that God communicates with people, from the dramatic visions and dreams, to more subtle revelations triggered by our own meditations and prayers. Willard speaks of the “still, small voice”, which he describes as “a gentle whispering … taking the form of thoughts that are our thoughts, though these thoughts are not from us.”

So one there I was in church one Sunday, and at the end of Mass, when I was least expecting anything out of the ordinary, I heard the still, small voice of God. I can’t really describe it, but I definitely knew from Whom it came. And interestingly, the message wasn’t any different than the one I’d heard more than a year earlier, when I was trying to decide whether or not to accept the early retirement offer. The message was “Reject the accumulation of wealth.”

Well, by retiring I had certainly done that, hadn’t I? So why was God telling me this now? Why wasn’t His message, “Don’t worry so much about money” or “Give more to the poor”?

All week long I pondered this message. Perhaps God was telling me that I had not rejected the accumulation of wealth just by quitting my job. I also had to give up the notion that savings we had put aside was what would see us through in our mid-life and retirement years. After more contemplation, I came to realize that it is not money that will see us through, but rather our faith in God. This, I believe, is the meaning of the words I heard in that still, small voice.

This sentiment echoed what my husband had expressed a few weeks earlier. In the wake of the stock market’s huge plummet, my past anxiety concerning our finances had resurfaced. Deep down, I was still feeling guilty about not working, and even though Terry had been very supportive, I wondered if maybe he didn’t regret my decision at times. But as we discussed the situation, I learned that this was not the case at all! In fact, Terry was quite pleased that I had been able to quit my stressful job and spend more time exploring my creative and spiritual sides. As we began to catalogue all the good things that had come about due to new lifestyle, we came to appreciate the benefits that money can’t buy.

Terry’s final admonition was that I needed to give him the job of “worrying” about money (he has always been the family’s chief financial officer, after all) and that I turn over all of my concerns about the future to the Lord. Of course, I had been trying to convince myself to do just that for more than a year. But now something was different. With the words I heard in a still, small voice, and with affirmation from my husband, something finally clicked. I was suddenly able to let go of my concern that I’d made a bad choice by retiring. I didn’t know what the future held, but I knew that God would give me the grace to deal with whatever might come.

At last I felt that the peace I had been asking for was truly granted. How else was I able to get through the constant reports of our failing economy without the anxiety that had plagued me earlier? Every day I was amazed to awaken with feelings of contentment, and often excitement about the future, despite the doom and gloom swirling around me.

As the first anniversary of my retirement drew near, I reviewed all I had gone through in the past year. I like to think that I performed a vital service for my mother-in-law in her time of need, and that my efforts with St. Vincent de Paul and the Helping Place were making a difference in the lives of the poor. But whether these things were true or not, I knew that my own faith had increased and that I had grown spiritually in so many ways, and those were worthwhile ends indeed.

Friday, November 28, 2008

October 2008 – Being in God’s Will

Reading the book ‘Hearing God’ by Dallas Willard helped put things in perspective for me. I was touched by the stories of people who had heard God’s voice, as well as by the frustration of those who did not have this experience, yet longed for it. It was comforting to know that I wasn’t the only person to have this yet unrealized yearning.

I cannot begin to impart all of the insight I gained from this inspirational book. One idea that hit home with me was that perhaps my motives to hear God’s voice, as with my desire to discern my charisms, were less than ideal. Willard stated that many people “seek to hear God solely as a device for securing their own safety, comfort and righteousness.” How familiar this sounded! I was indeed looking confirmation that my retirement decision had been a righteous one, and that, despite the loss of my salary, our financial situation would still provide us with safety, security and comfort.

Thus I began to re-examine my motives for going down my chosen spiritual path. I realized that my attempts at discernment and hearing God often resulted in feelings of failure or even desperation, and I knew I this was not the outcome God intended. I was determined to put that desperation aside, and to live in the present. I would continue to pray, read, discern, and engage in acts of service and mercy through my volunteer work, but if I did not garner any major revelations from my efforts, I would not lose faith. Most importantly, I would try to live the kind of life that would please God, or as Dallas Willard calls it, to “be in the will of God.”

Willard explains that “…being in the will of God is very far removed from just doing what God wants us to do—so far removed, in fact, that we can be solidly in the will of God, and be aware that we are, without know God’s preference with regard to various details of our lives.” So now my primary purpose was simply to live a Christ-like life to the best of my ability. I no longer needed to look for clues regarding the specific details of my existence, be they where to volunteer, what to study in school, where to look for part-time work, or how to embark on my next great mission from God. I just needed to be aware of the needs of those around me, and to listen to my heart. For I truly believed that God would speak to my heart when the time was right.

Even my attitude toward discerning my charisms had changed. I was no longer desperate to prove that I had a charism for writing or service, or for any other gift. I continued to engage in the pastimes I loved and found the most rewarding. This included volunteer work with the St. Vincent de Paul Society and the Helping Place, as well as my personal pleasures such as reading, writing, beading, and dancing. About once a week I evaluated my various undertakings against the three signs of a charism: personal joy, exceptional results, and recognition from others. Though none of my endeavors had yielded extraordinary results or more than a passing appreciation from others, I was finding great joy in all of them. With each new experience and each new person I met, I felt my life was being enriched and blessed. And through God’s grace, perhaps some of those blessings were returned to the people I sought to serve.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

September 2008 - The Joy of Writing

With my new goal of discerning my charisms, and determining my mission in the process, I decided to put off my plan of taking a college or enrichment class in the fall. I threw myself into writing my blog, along with a fiction project I had started earlier in the year. I also attended training at a non-profit agency I’ll call The Helping Place, where I was going to start assisting clients with their job applications, resumes, and cover letters. Initially, I would just do general counseling until people made specific appointments for resume help.

I was very excited about confirming that the Lord had called me to help others through my writing. In retrospect, I think this was important to me because I wanted to prove to myself that my decision to retire was wise and not foolish. If it was just financial security I wanted from life, then the decision was foolish, especially in light of the declining stock market. If my goal was to let the Lord work through me by using the gifts the Holy Spirit had endowed up me, then my decision was wise.

Though September had started out on a positive note, it was proving to be a major disappointment for me. First, I found that my blog drew absolutely no comments (the one I posted myself just to see how it works doesn’t count!). I didn’t want to send the link to friends and family, basically because I was rather embarrassed about my often pathetic whining. My hope was that others in the blogosphere would read it and get caught up in the suspense, wishing for me not to lose hope and to keep going on my quest. Perhaps some would be inspired by the steps I was taking to discern God’s plan, and would want to share their own experiences along the same path. Indeed, there may have been some who had read my blog and felt that way, but so far I had no reason to believe that this was the case.

I also started writing more e-mails to friends, and sent selected blogs to a few family members. The responses these drew were tepid at best. I was starting to get discouraged.

My experience at the Helping Place was also mixed. Though I enjoyed the counseling quite a bit, it had nothing to do with writing, and I still hadn’t been called upon to help anyone in the employment office. At this point, I decided that I would just continue to work as a general counselor, assisting clients obtain identification, providing emergency food and clothing, and offering referrals to other agencies. I felt that the services I was providing through the Helping Place and St. Vincent de Paul were very worthwhile, even if they didn’t confirm that I had a charism for writing, or any other charism, for that matter.

After posting several entries, I realized that I loved writing my blog, because it helped me think things through and learn more about myself. I definitely felt the joy that is supposed to accompany the use of one’s charism, though the other two signs, recognition of the gift from others and unusually effective results, were sorely lacking. Even so, I decided not to be hasty in judging whether or not I had the Writing charism. I knew that the audience for my blog was limited, and besides, most of my postings were more for my benefit than for others, which is contrary to the very nature of charisms. I also started testing for the presence of other charisms, especially Service and Encouragement. I continued to look for the three signs of a charism in all of my charitable acts, hoping for some clue as to how the Holy Spirit would work through me.

Still, it was hard to keep my faith from wavering. According to the Siena website, all baptized Christians are gifted with one of more charisms. But I was seeing no evidence that this was true in my life. Was I just deluding myself? Just as I had doubted that I’d been called by God to retire, I was beginning to doubt that charisms even existed, at least for me. In fact, I was starting to believe that God really didn’t interact with human beings at all! Yes, I still believed in Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, but I was not so sure that I really had a relationship with Him. I wasn’t convinced that He really heard me, and despite my attempts to learn of His plan for me, discern what gifts He might have bestowed upon me, and learn how He wanted me to live by reading His word in the scriptures, I was certain that He was not speaking to me either. And then, in a box of religious books I’d put aside months ago, I ran across a book called “Hearing God”, and my journey took another twist.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

July 2008 - The Discerning Retiree

July turned out to be quite a significant month for me. The first event was a family reunion to celebrate my mother-in-law’s 80th birthday. My sister-in-law in Colorado had first suggested the party a year ago, and everyone was excited that all of the siblings and cousins would be together for the first time in 17 years. As a local with a lot of time on my hands, I did most of the planning for the week’s festivities.

I would love to say that the reunion was a rousing success, but it was really more of a mixed bag. The main issue was that my mother-in-law’s health was still poor, and she just didn’t have the energy for all the commotion. There were a few times when she snapped, which were sad for everyone. It was a bit of a tightrope walk, because we didn’t want to exclude her from activities, while at the same time we didn’t want to exhaust her. Still, a couple of outings were real winners, especially our relaxing days at the lake. The best part was that family members got to reconnect; some younger cousins even got to know each for the first time. I think Mom really did appreciate the effort everyone made to honor her, but there was a bit of relief when her life got back to normal.

The day we dropped the last of the out-of-towners at the airport, Terry and I headed ‘Up North’, as we Michiganders say. We met three other couples at Petoskey State Park, right on Lake Michigan. The weather was perfect, the scenery gorgeous, and the company delightful. It was quite a contrast to the frantic pace of the reunion.

Driving home from Petoskey, we were listening to a Catholic radio station when I heard a program that hit me like a thunderbolt. Sherry Weddell of the Catherine of Sienna Institute was talking about spiritual gifts, also known as charisms. She spoke of the joy and fulfillment that Christians experience when they use these gifts to carry out God’s will. I don’t remember her exact words, but I’m sure they echoed the essentials I found at the organization’s website, www.siena.org, which I quote here: "Every lay man and woman has been called by Christ (in his or her baptism) to a unique mission, and every lay man and woman has been gifted by the Holy Spirit in order to be able to answer that call. These gifts of the Holy Spirit are both clues as to the nature of the mission for which God is preparing us and tools with which to successfully carry out our mission."

There was that word ‘mission’ again! I hadn't stopped pondering whether there was still something more the Lord wanted me to do throughout my busy spring and summer. Perhaps hearing this radio program was not just a coincidence! I was excited to learn that the Sienna Institute sponsors a ‘Called and Gifted’ workshop, which helps participants to discern their charisms. I couldn’t wait to get home to see if there was a Called and Gifted program in our area.

I devoured every word on the Siena website, feeling even more certain that the Lord did have a mission for me, and that once I discerned my charisms, I would be able use them in support of that mission. Unfortunately, I saw that that there were no Called and Gifted workshops being offered nearby. I decided that I would follow the program on my own by using the discernment materials suggested on the website. I put in my order, and was thrilled when my package arrived a few days later.

My first step in the discernment process was to complete the Spiritual Gifts Inventory. This involved ranking 120 statements on a scale from 0 – 3, where 0 indicates that the statement never applies to me, and 3 means that it often applies. The instructions stated that one should not rank the statements based on what we want to be true or think should be true, but by what has actually happened in our lives thus far. High scores on a particular charism don’t necessarily mean that the gift is present, but that it is a possibility for further exploration.

After completing the inventory, I identified the charisms that had the highest ratings for me. They were: Writing, Service, Music, Encouragement, Faith, and Administration. I was not at all surprised that Writing scored so high, since it has long been one of my favorite pastimes. I have kept a journal for years, and even consider it a form of prayer. It also fit perfectly with my latest idea for volunteer work, helping the unemployed create resumes and cover letters at a local non-profit organization. I had already contacted the agency about doing this, and I was set to attend training in September. Things were definitely falling into place!

The next step was to conduct some experiments to test whether my love of writing was simply a talent and interest of mine, or if it was a spiritual gift. The Discerning Charisms workbook makes a big distinction between the two. Natural talents can be inherited and are independent of God’s grace; they can be used for our own personal good, or even for evil. On the other hand, charisms are supernaturally endowed; they are directly connected to our relationship with God, are dependent upon His grace, and can only be used to serve God’s purpose; they are meant to be ‘given away’ for the benefit of others, not to meet our own needs.

Now I set about listing the steps I would take to discern whether or not I had the Writing charism. I needed to look for the following signs to confirm that this was the case: 1) I would experience an unmistakable sense of joy, peace and energy when using my gift of writing; 2) The results of my writing would be unusually effective and successful in what I was trying to accomplish; 3) I would receive direct or indirect recognition of the gift’s presence from others.

But what experiment would I use to test this out? I wasn’t going to start helping others with their resumes for another month, and I was eager to confirm that the Lord was calling me to use my writing skills to touch the lives of others. I needed something immediate to assess whether the charism of Writing had been bestowed upon me. After much thought, I came up with an idea. And that is how this blog began.

Friday, October 24, 2008

May 2008 – The Great Northwest



Spring and summer provided me with multiple opportunities to travel, connect with family and friends, and commune with nature. In May I finally took the trip to Oregon that I’d delayed twice before. It was definitely worth the wait! I’d never been to Oregon in the spring, and the wildflowers were just breathtaking!

My daughter Carrie looked beautiful, and more fit than I’d ever seen her. Between her hiking, bicycling, and mountaineering she was determined to become ‘hard core’. Since I was on a health kick myself, she vowed to do the same for me (at least, relative to my age bracket). Carrie had never seen my weight so low, so she planned some ambitious outdoor activities: a twenty mile bike tour (mostly flat, thankfully), rowing, and a couple of moderate hikes, culminating in a strenuous climb up Dog Mountain. I wasn’t sure if I was up to the challenge, but I was ready to give it a try!

Our first forays into nature were quite successful. We both agreed that the hike along the Pacific Ocean, though spectacular, was not all that challenging. Our hike in the Columbia River Gorge, also rated moderate, was definitely tougher. My legs were quite sore at the end of that one, though the pain didn’t last. I was still a bit concerned about our strenuous hike, but as it turned out, Carrie came down with an upper respiratory infection a few days before our climb, so we decided to put it off till my next visit. Guess I’m not hard core just yet!

During the week Carrie went back to work for a few days, so I did some exploring on my own. I hit a couple of museums and urban nature trails, and I especially enjoyed visiting the Grotto of our Sorrowful Mother. The grounds feature a mountain-top botanical garden, statues and paintings that depict of the Stations of the Cross and the seven sorrows of Mary, and a replica of Michelangelo’s Pieta. I spent an entire morning walking and praying in a glorious setting.

Another highlight of my trip was the fulfillment of my one request: dancing. We found a Salsa club downtown, brought along a couple of Carrie’s friends, and had a blast! We also had some awesome dinners, with my favorite being the scallop etoufee from a Cajun restaurant. I did some cooking, too, picking up a few pointers from my health-conscious daughter. The roasted vegetables I prepared turned out so lovely that I took their picture before we devoured them!

At the end of my two-week vacation, I headed back to Michigan to resume my relaxing retiree existence of volunteering, dancing, and working my way through my household To Do List. I had not stopped my daily scripture reflections while I was in Portland, and I continued them back at home. While I did find solace in the meditations, I still hadn’t discerned any new ‘missions’ for myself.

For the most part I was pretty pleased with my range of activities. I even had a part time job now, teaching a relationships workshop for singles at the Marriage Place. Even though I never worked more than four hours a week, it was a paying job, and a lot of fun besides! I learned a lot both from the course materials and from the interesting mix of workshop participants.

One change I did make was to take a break from my media work at the Marriage Place. For various reasons, the press releases and media pitches I wrote were never sent out for publication, and I found this a little disheartening. Besides, I had several commitments coming up in July and August, including a week-long family reunion and two camping trips with friends. Since I was the ‘point person’ for the reunion, I needed to get moving.

I informed the Marriage Place Director that I wouldn’t be coming in during the days anymore, and started planning in earnest for the reunion. I was excited about the upcoming events of the summer, and I looked forward to more changes for the fall. I still wanted to take a college or enrichment class (though I still hadn’t decided what to study), and I planned to explore new volunteer opportunities to replace the media work at the Marriage Place. I continued to pray for guidance, and for the grace to remain patient and be open to whatever the Lord might have in store for me.

Monday, October 13, 2008

April 2008 – Blessings and Sorrows

Even before my mother-in-law’s health took a turn for the better, I had started to explore more volunteer opportunities. I joined our church’s St. Vincent de Paul Society, which turned out to be a real blessing for me. The society’s mission, to lead people to “join together to grow spiritually by offering person-to-person service to the needy and suffering” gave me the opportunity to truly be of service to others. April was an especially active month, as our conference President was out of town, and we had more than our usual share of calls.

I also found a position on volunteermatch.org that was quite intriguing. The duties of the Marketing Assistant for a non-profit I’ll call the Marriage Place were right up my alley. I had originally majored in journalism in college, and the idea of writing press releases and brochures really appealed to me. It was fun creating a resume geared to public relations, even if the only experience I had was a number of volunteer positions from 30 years ago. With my new resume and a list of personal references in tow, I went on my first interview in 13 years. Since this was an unpaid position, I had no trouble landing the job.

Now I settled into somewhat of a routine, which gave my life some much-needed structure. I worked at the Marriage Place on Tuesdays and Thursdays, shopped on Wednesdays, and attended Mass on Fridays. I reserved Mondays for journal writing and planning my week. I continued my daily scripture meditations, subbed for Meals on Wheels when called, and worked with the St. Vincent de Paul Society as needed. My husband and I were now dancing four nights a week, and I had choir practice on another night. On weekends we socialized with friends and family, and we especially enjoyed visiting with our older daughter Joanne, who lives in a nearby city. I was certainly busy enough, and no longer plagued with anxiety over my retirement decision.

Five months into my retirement, I took stock of what I’d accomplished so far. I was indeed making headway on my list of household tasks, and I had enough volunteer work to keep me feeling useful. I still hadn’t pursued my creative interests of writing and jewelry making, though I was pleased with the progress I was making with my online photo albums. Another retirement goal had been to spend more time with my mother-in-law and my developmentally disabled sister, Adele. Well, I’d certainly devoted plenty of attention to my mother-in-law! But while I was now visiting with Adele more often, I kept remembering all of the ways I had failed to be a good guardian, sister, and friend to her. For a long time I had been promising myself I would do better, and now that I had more time I hoped to make good on that promise.

I had been very pleased that I kept my patience with my sister over the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays; it seemed that every year this was more of a challenge for me. Since my retirement I was also accompanying her on all of her medical appointments. Adele had suffered from gall bladder distress a few years ago, and now it had returned. With her latest relapse, we decided that her gall bladder needed to be removed.

A few weeks before the surgery, I hosted Easter dinner at my house. Poor Adele was in such an agitated state. She had hardly eaten in days, since to do so would just bring her more pain, but she wanted to join in with the holiday meal, too. I tried to give her as many options as possible. First I had her sit at the table with a glass of milk and a few pieces of ham to pick at. She sat for a minute, then jumped up and said she didn’t want to eat but wanted to sit on the couch. No problem, I told her. But a few minutes later she’d be back at the table, then back on the couch. She wanted to eat, she didn’t want to eat. I put another plate of ham next to her on the couch; she brought it into the kitchen and said to take it out of her sight. I told her to sit wherever she wanted, and to eat or not eat, but just let me enjoy my meal with the rest of the company. But she just didn’t know how to handle the pain, and she wouldn’t give me a moment’s peace. Finally we reverted to our old pattern: I screamed, she cried and apologized, the guests squirmed, and I felt guiltier than ever.

I couldn’t wait for Adele to have her surgery, so she’d be out of pain and able to eat again. I spent her surgery day at the hospital with a staff member from her group home, waiting for the results. After a long day the surgeon came out and told us that everything had gone fine. Back in the recovery room, Adele was slowly waking up. I never saw anyone take such delight in drinking a cup of beef broth! The poor thing was starving; she ate every bit of her ice cream and jello, and was discharged to go home. We could tell that she was back to her old self because she now took an interest in the teddy bears that Kay and I had brought for her. Stuffed animals were Adele’s greatest joy in life, and when she barely blinked at the toys in the morning, we knew she must have been feeling mighty low.

When I left the group home that evening, Adele was sitting contentedly on the sofa with a stuffed bear in each arm. That was the last time I saw her alive. The Lord called my little sister to Him the next day, to be with our Mom and Dad. She was only 53.

I tell myself that Adele is at peace now like she had never been before. She’d had a very rough life, living not just with developmental disability but with episodes of psychosis as well. I know she’s in a better place, and I hope she can forgive me for my lack of patience. As children we had been very close, and I loved her so much; I just wish I’d been able to make good on my promise to be a better guardian, sister and friend at the end of her life.

Monday, October 6, 2008

March 2008 – A Mission

Here’s a quick recap of my retirement journey so far:

• I thought that God was calling me to take my company’s early retirement offer at age 55. Oh yeah, and I kind of wanted to get out of a stressful, demanding job where I was pretty much on call 24/7.
• As soon as it was too late to rescind the retirement package, I started to doubt that I’d made the right decision. I began to suspect that the ‘signs from God’ were really just rationalizations to justify my decision to leave my job.
• The first few months after my decision were rife with nausea, insomnia, loss of appetite and panic attacks. Daily prayer eventually helped alleviate the anxiety, and provide me with peace of mind. Now I was just left pondering what mission I had been called to do.
• Before I could embark on a true search of God’s plan for me, I was sidetracked with another pressing matter: caring for my sick mother-in-law. Mom was suffering from some of the same symptoms I’d experienced, but her severe fatigue and rapid weight loss indicated a true medical condition, whereas one might argue my problems were all in my head.

So, in February of 2008 I was occupied with nourishing, transporting, and otherwise assisting my ailing mother-in-law. Shortly after I cancelled my upcoming vacation, the doctors determined a probable cause for Mom’s symptoms.

The gastroenterologist hypothesized that Mom’s pancreas was not producing the enzymes she needed to digest food. Because Mom was diabetic, it was known that her pancreas wasn’t producing insulin, but a CT scan showed that the organ had severely atrophied. However, blood tests didn’t show that Mom’s enzymes were dangerously low, so the doctor wasn’t convinced that this was the sole cause of her ailments. Still, he prescribed an enzyme replacement, and said that it ‘should’ start to work in about three weeks.

This was great news! With the treatment prescribed, I was free to visit my daughter before her class started in March. But when I suggested this to Mom, she nearly begged me to delay my trip until she knew for sure that the pills would work.

At this point, I was feeling quite resentful. Several friends, and even my husband, felt that Mom was putting an unfair burden on me. One friend, a nurse, offered to visit her while I was away, helping her bathe and bringing her food. Terry also wondered if our daughter would be hurt that I was again delaying my trip. Carrie had originally invited me to stay for the entire month of January, but due to a social engagement, I had already delayed it once. If I had to push it back till May, I was afraid she’d think I was rejecting her. Maybe there was a reason she needed me to be with her at this time.

Before I made my final decision, I prayed for guidance. I really didn’t get a clear ‘message’ from God one way or the other so I decided to listen to others and go forward with the vacation. But I was too chicken to tell Mom myself. Instead, Terry told her while I listened to his end of the phone conversation. When it was over, he confirmed that she wasn’t at all pleased that I was leaving town for two weeks.

Now that I’d made my decision, I called Carrie to confirm the dates. She could tell how conflicted I was, but I think she was hesitant to encourage me to stay in Michigan for fear I’d think she was rejecting me. But during our conversation we both concluded that I really felt awful about rejecting my mother-in-law’s request. Carrie told me she would not be hurt with another trip delay, so I again put the vacation on hold.

I called my mother-in-law the same night, before I changed my mind again. She was very much relieved with my decision, and as soon as I heard her spirits lift, I knew I was doing the right thing. Looking back on it, I can’t believe I even considered leaving her. I’m kind of embarrassed when I re-read my journal from February. I had written “Could this be my mission from God? Babysitting my mother-in-law?” Oh, how selfish I was.

And now for the happy ending to this segment: the enzyme replacements did kick in, but after six weeks, not three. My mother-in-law still has insomnia and very little energy, but at least she has her appetite back. And I did go out to visit Carrie in May. The wildflowers were in full bloom, which made for a much more colorful trip than if I had gone in February. But I will tell that story in another blog. This installment will end with a couple final thoughts regarding this, my first mission:

1) The tasks that God asks of us are not for our benefit, but for the benefit of others. They are fashioned by His design, not ours.
2) Perhaps God does not have one big mission set aside for me, but rather a few smaller areas for me to explore and be of service to others.
3) Just because we ask God for guidance, the answer isn’t always explicit. No, playing Bible roulette in the hopes of gleaning a specific message from the selected scripture passage just doesn’t work.

Of course, I didn’t realize any of this when my mother-in-law’s health finally started to improve. In March of 2008, Mom was again driving and cooking for herself, and I was still on a mission to find my mission from God.

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

February 2008 – Possibilities

Praying daily with the scriptural guide “Speak Lord, Your Servant is Listening” was a great way to start the new year. As promised, I did find myself at peace with my very first reading. And I took to heart Father Ron’s assertion that “praying is never a waste of time.” I had just read an article about a woman who considered herself to be in a “ministry of prayer”, and I decided to take up this ministry too. In addition to the scriptural meditations, I prayed daily for others as well as for myself. It seemed to be working, too; I was no longer consumed with fears for the future. So even as the January skies turned their typical Michigan grey, my disposition was a lot sunnier than it had been right after Christmas.

I was once again excited about the prospects before me. I had planned to visit my younger daughter on the west coast at the beginning of February, and would then search for meaningful volunteer position upon my return. I had already started volunteering as a substitute Meals on Wheels driver, which was fun and rewarding, but I was sure that God’s mission for me involved more than just delivering pre-packaged food to homebound seniors for a couple hours a week.

Shortly after I booked my flight in early January, I got a despondent call from my mother-in-law. She’d been complaining of unexplained weight loss, fatigue, and insomnia for the past few months, though she’d looked reasonably healthy at Christmastime. She’d even taken a trip to visit a relative overseas in the fall, and had done splendidly. Now she was calling to ask if I could drive her to the doctor, because she felt too ill to drive herself.

I was quite unprepared for the sight my mother-in-law presented that day. Even though she was nearly 80, she never failed to do her hair and make-up each day, and her expression typified the image of the feisty old lady. Now she looked ashen and haggard, not to mention defeated. As we rode to the doctor’s office, she told me that she’d completely lost her appetite, that she became nauseous when she forced herself to eat, and she was barely able to sleep. She said she’d never felt this terrible in her entire life, and I had to admit, I’d never seen her look that bad in the 35 years I’d known her.

In the doctor’s waiting room Mom confided her deepest fear, that she had the same type of cancer her husband had died from nearly twenty years ago. Watching him slowly slip away was an ordeal that was still vivid in her mind, and now she was experiencing many of the same symptoms.

Fortunately, the doctor’s opinion was not that bleak. She offered several possible causes for Mom’s ailments, with complications from her diabetes being the most likely. She ordered blood work and numerous medical tests, and assured us that she would get to the bottom of the problems. Driving home, I could see that Mom already looked more vibrant, and I knew that worry was one reason she looked so wretched earlier in the day.

Our conversation was a little more cheerful on our return trip. However, when I mentioned my upcoming vacation, Mom was clearly agitated. She told me she wished I weren’t going, so I could stay in Michigan and be with her until they figured out what was wrong. I assured her that I wasn’t going for another four weeks, and the doctors would certainly solve the puzzle of her illness by then.

But in the following weeks, the doctors were still not able to offer a diagnosis, and Mom’s spirits plummeted. Soon I was driving her to all her medical appointments, cooking her dinners, helping her bathe, and doing light housework. She slept little and had even less energy, but at least she was able to eat a little bit without getting sick. She seemed to do best with my chicken soup, which I cooked for hours so that the meat and vegetables were very tender. She also did well with beef soup and lamb stew. Though the thought of eating didn’t appeal to her at all, she was able to take some nourishment each day and keep it down.

As the month drew to a close, I realized that I could not leave my mother-in-law at this time. I was very bummed. I had so looked forward to getting out of Michigan in my least favorite month of the year. This development was also putting a crimp in my timeline for finding my mission from God. Of course, it did occur to me that perhaps caring for my mother-in-law was my true mission. This thought depressed me even more. I had envisioned myself helping the down-trodden, or perhaps writing for a non-profit organization, not making pots and pots of chicken soup and driving to countless medical appointments, where it seemed like The View was always playing in the waiting room.

Reluctantly, I canceled my flight arrangements, and called my daughter to see when I might reschedule my trip. Carrie told me she was starting a class in March, so we tentatively planned for a late February visit. I continued to pray for a speedy recovery for Mom, so she would no longer suffer through restless days, sleepless nights and constant worry. A speedy recovery also meant I could get on with my own agenda: vacationing, finding a meaningful volunteer experience, and ultimately discerning God’s plan for me.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Jump to the Here and Now – What I Love about Retirement

Well, I’ve just re-read my first four posts, and I must admit that I sound pretty pathetic! It seems like I was always crying about something, or perhaps crying about nothing is more like it. I don’t know if anyone is following this sad tale, but just let me say, it does get happier!

So right now I’d like to take this little detour to share some more uplifting thoughts. In my next blog I’ll travel back to February 2008 and describe my first mission from God (and how I almost missed it!).

What I love about being retired

1) I actually look forward to Mondays! Not that I have crummy weekends (see #3 below), but Monday is my day to start a new To Do List, with all of the things I WANT to do, not the things I HAVE to do. It’s also the start of a new week of scriptural readings; since each week has a different theme, I can read and meditate on the theme as well as the daily scripture passage.

2) I’m finally getting fit at age 56! Instead of sitting at a computer terminal or television for 12 hours a day, now I MOVE: cleaning, shopping, dancing, walking, biking, weight training, and just running up and down the stairs of my two-story house. I’m still losing weight, now by design rather than from being too anxious to eat. And I’m only 5 pounds away from being in the normal weight range, for the first time in 40 years!

3) Since I’m able to do housework and run errands on weekdays, my evenings and weekends are free from more fun activities, like hanging out with friends, going to movies, and dancing (especially dancing!). We’ve been dabbling with ballroom dancing for the last few years, but now we’re getting serious!

4) I’m closer than ever to my husband. Maybe because I’m not caught up in all the stress of my job, I’m much more relaxed and interested in fun. I have more time for conversation, recreation and romance. And I think that my example (along with the extra dancing) has inspired my husband to lose weight too; he’s dropped about 15 pounds since spring!

5) I have time to follow current events more closely, especially the national election. In the past I’ve been woefully uninformed. Sad to say, this is the first election I’ve followed closely since Nixon versus McGovern in 1972.

6) I’ve rediscovered the joys of soups and stews, which are healthful, economical, and even creative. I now have more time to cook from scratch, and I especially enjoy using fresh vegetables and garlic in my recipes. I’ve learned that eggplant and spinach can be thrown into more dishes than I ever imagined, and that turnips (a vegetable my Italian mother never used) add a really nice flavor to chicken, beef or fish soup.

7) My house is actually clean most of the time now, and it is slowly getting de-junked. Not that I think having an immaculate house is the most important thing in the world, (good thing, because mine is far from spotless), but it is rather satisfying to wake up to a tidy living area. And now I can keep on with mail and clutter on a daily basis, so I’m not scrambling madly when I learn company is coming.

8) I am more aware of the beauty in our world, from an ordinary sparrow feeding in the yard to a glorious sunrise over Lake Erie. Walking to church one morning last winter, I was awed by the quiet splendor of the falling snow clinging to streets of our subdivision, yet unmarred by tire tracks.

9) I’ve gotten to know some really neat people by going to morning Mass and volunteering at various non-profits organizations. I never thought I’d be having a coffee klatch with a Dominican nun, but Sister Ellen is pretty cool!

10) I have time to really get to know my neighbors. In the past I always too busy to stop and chat, and I used to get irritated when the older retiree next door started to ramble. Now I have time to really listen, and sometimes learn a thing or two! The same is true for spending time with long-neglected relatives; for the first time in years I’m calling just to chat, or spending a quiet afternoon over a cup of tea.

11) I am closer than ever to God. It seems like I pray constantly, not for deliverance from my woes, but out of adoration, praise and gratitude. I have learned about the power of intercessory prayer and the peace of turning over all one’s worries to the Lord.

12) I’ve learned that having something to look forward to is a crucial part of life. For years I had dreamed of an early retirement, and I think that’s one reason I felt so empty at first: I could no longer look forward to something that had already arrived! At the beginning of my retirement journey I had to work hard to find things to look forward to, but now my eyes are beginning to open up to all of the marvelous prospects that await. Perhaps my list of ‘Things to Look Forward To’ will be the topic of some future blog.

Monday, September 22, 2008

January 2008 – To Listen to the Lord

Perhaps it was just the post-Christmas doldrums; perhaps it was the pressure I was putting on myself to do something meaningful after the holidays. But whatever prompted the sudden return of my anxiety, I didn’t want to just wait around and see if it got better. I knew that the doctor would be of no use; it hadn’t waited for the requisite six months, and besides, I had decided not to go the pharmaceutical route. I could try calling my husband or a friend, but I really didn’t want to bother anyone at work. My thoughts turned to the jovial priest who had been so kind to me during my confession at the Advent retreat. I didn’t know if the Passionist priests did personal counseling, or how soon Father could meet with me if they did. But I figured just calling the retreat center was a positive step.

When I reached St. Paul’s, I asked to speak with the priest who gave the homily at the retreat. I didn’t remember his name at that time, but I knew he had described himself as ‘the short one’, so I did the same. The receptionist knew exactly whom I meant, and in a few moments I was speaking with Father Ron himself. He told me that he would be happy to meet with me, and we set up an appointment for a few days later.

In Father’s inviting, book-filled office, I poured out my life story and described my recent angst. I told him that I had originally been convinced that God was calling me to retire and carry out His mission for me, but now I suspected that this was just a rationalization for leaving my stressful job. Though I’d never thought of myself as being materialistic (frugal, perhaps, but not greedy), I now found myself consumed with thoughts of money, or my imagined lack of the same. Terry and I had spent many years at the bottom of our pay scales before we both started earning good incomes, and now I felt I was foolish to have given up that income in exchange for a pitifully small pension. And even though I’d produced a long list of edifying and creative endeavors to fill my retirement hours, none of them seemed to interest me at the moment. I couldn’t even find a volunteer activity that appealed to me. I’d been looking through the Michigan Catholic, our church bulletin, and a web-based volunteer match site, but nothing seemed to click. In the fall I’d been intrigued with a post-abortion counseling organization called Project Rachel, but I’d called them twice and never received a return call from the program office. So if God really did have a mission for me, He sure wasn’t making it easy to find.

Father listened attentively, and when I finished my woeful tale, he offered several insightful observations:

• Was it a coincidence that my first doubts surfaced on the eighth day after I’d accepted the early retirement offer? Where else have we seen a reference to ‘the eighth day’? Just as Adam and Eve’s world began on the eighth day of God’s creation, so too my new world was just beginning.

• If I had felt that God was calling me, then to doubt it now was actually an insult to God. He told me not to second-guess myself, but to believe in the call I had heard.

• My obsession with money was most likely a passing thing, an outgrowth of self-doubt. He mentioned a few scriptural references to divine providence (for example, the Lilies of the Field passage in Mathew 6:27-29). He asked me if I believed that God would provide me with all that I need, and I had to admit that I do believe this.

• The fact that I couldn’t seem to motivate myself to do anything but work around the house and pray was not necessarily a bad thing. As I had stated, both had been long overdue. And even if I prayed for several hours a day (which I could certainly not imagine doing!), praying is never a waste of time.

Father asked me if I’d ever tried contemplative scriptural prayer, and I told him I had not. He walked over to one of his bookshelves, searched for a moment, and then said “Here it is.” He handed me a book called Speak Lord, Your Servant Is Listening by David E. Rosage. Father explained that the book was a guide to using the scriptures to hear what God is telling us through His word. He told me to try this method of prayer in my search for a deeper relationship with God.

Once again, I left St. Paul’s feeling hopeful and refreshed. As soon as I got home I read the introductory chapters of the prayer guide. The procedure for using book was first to read the designated scripture passages slowly and reflectively. Then, finding a quiet, comfortable spot, try to imagine what was actually taking place in the reading, and listen to what the Lord is saying to the reader through His words. Rosage writes that those who use this method are often moved to respond with praise, gratitude and love. With time, we learn to feel the presence of God in our lives, and we get to know ourselves a little better in the process. The author’s words “God’s plan for our lives becomes clearer. Life has more meaning” especially struck a chord with me. This is what I was searching for!

Rosen also noted that in the beginning readers might not gain great insight or inspiration, but we would experience a sense of peace and joy. There was that word again … peace!

I couldn’t wait to try out this new method of praying.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

December 2007 – The retreat

Excerpts from my Retirement Activities List of September ’07:

• Take an enrichment class
• Look for a part-time job
• Pray daily
• Go on a retreat

While I had planned to put my job search and class-taking on hold till after the holidays, it was easy for me to pray every day when I no longer needed to bother with that pesky time-monopolizer called ‘employment’. I mostly prayed for relief from my continuing anxiety, and for an end to the constant internal replaying of my retirement decision pros and cons. I also prayed that Terry wouldn’t lose his own job anytime soon, and that the economy wouldn’t get any worse than it already was. In between these supplications, I tried to remember to thank God for all of the good things He had granted me, including the freedom to pursue His plan for me on a full-time basis.

In November I had seen an article in our church bulletin announcing a ‘Day of Recollection’ at the St. Paul of the Cross Retreat Center. The theme was preparation for Advent, and it was to include a homily by a Passionist priest, personal time for reflection, the Sacrament of Reconciliation, Eucharist, and lunch.

Hallelujah! Things were starting to fall into place already. Now I could check off another item from my list (I have always been VERY big on list-making).

The day of the retreat coincided with our first snow storm of the season. But the slick roads and dire warnings from the weathercasters did not deter me … I just knew that this day would bring me one step closer to discerning my mission.

Our retreat leader, Father Ron, was a jovial sort who opened his talk with a few jokes, and then went into the history of the advent season. But the crux of his homily, the thing that really stayed with me, was the idea that Christmas could be a time to exchange gifts with God. Father asked the retreat participants two questions: What is it that you want God to give you for Christmas? And what do you think God would ask you to give to Him for the Holiday?

My soul immediately cried out the answers: For Christmas, I would petition God for peace of mind. And what did God want from me? I felt very strongly that what He asked of me was trust.

Right then and there I received my very first Christmas gift of the year. I felt awash with peace, and was certain that the Lord would give me the grace to deal with whatever came my way. (That was my second gift request; as usual, I was asking for more than I was giving!). I whispered the words, “Lord, I put my trust in you,” and hoped they would always to be true.

I spent the rest of the day in profound appreciation and tranquility. I reveled in the celebration of the Eucharist, feeling closer than ever to Christ. Revitalized, I went home feeling refreshed and ready to complete my Christmas preparations so I could move into the next phase of my life.

Throughout the advent season I continued to repeat my promise of trust in the Lord, especially when doubts crept in and I wasn’t feeling all that trusting. I was becoming less and less anxious, and had even started to sleep eight hours a night …. what a great bonus gift! The Christmas celebrations with my loved ones were indeed peaceful and cheering, and my participation at Christmas Mass was especially meaningful. How blessed I was to have received my requested gifts from God so soon!

The funny thing about the gifts I received and gave is that they are somewhat tied together. If I trust that God is with me through all of my trials, and that He will give me the grace I need to sustain me even in my darkest times, then certainly I will have the peace of mind I need to get through each day. But what if I stop trusting in the Lord? Would He revoke His gift of peace because my trust was gone? Or would a lack of trust in God bring on feelings of upheaval and despair, which are the antithesis of peace? Either way, I don’t see I could have peace of mind if I did not have trust in God.

I didn’t think about the connection between peace and trust until the week after Christmas. I was taking down the tree decorations when I suddenly inexplicably dissolved into long, heaving sobs. This was the same sort of emotional tidal wave that often slammed me in the months prior to the retreat. What was going on? I didn’t consciously decide that I no longer trusted in God. I repeated my promise aloud that yes, I do trust in You Lord, but I was still overwhelmed with a great sadness. I stopped my un-decorating, and started to pace. Then I looked up the phone number of St. Paul of the Cross, and called to ask if I could speak with Father Ron.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

October 2007 – Seeds of Doubt

Who would have thought that my mile-wide “retirement is coming” grin would be replaced with sleepless nights and loss of appetite as soon as it was too late to rescind my retirement agreement? Soon the list of potential retirement activities that had thrilled me was replaced with a list of worst-case scenarios. What if my husband lost his job? What if neither of us could find another job to replace our old ones? What if health care costs continued to climb, uncovered medical conditions were discovered, the stock market crashed, and the double digit inflation of the 80’s was revisited in the new millennium? Mind you, this was before the bear market started growling, before gas hit four dollars a gallon, before the cost of food began its slow ascent, and before the national employment rate took a dive. (Although the concern about not finding replacement jobs was real enough; we happen to live in Michigan, where we considered changing our state’s description from “Water Winter Wonderland” to “One State Recession Land”.)

In truth, I‘ve had bouts of anxiety and insomnia in the past. While I usually shun a medical approach, this time I decided to go to the clinic. Though the doctor was hesitant to treat me, he eventually did prescribe a mild sleeping pill (which, in the end, didn’t even work!). His advice was to read religious material at bedtime to help calm me (I had told him of my spiritual nature), have faith in my decision, and come back in six months if I was still having problems. So much for immediate relief!

My frame of mind in October and November was a swirl of emotions. At times I’d read my retirement activities list and find myself cheered, only to experience tearful outbursts for no apparent reason later in the day. I was especially embarrassed because I had been SO pumped for the big event, SO ready to embark on a new life, SO sure that this was the right decision. I hinted at having ‘second thoughts’ to a few close friends, but for a long time no one knew the extent of my discomfort – not even my husband! Sure, he knew I’d gone to the doctor, but he didn’t know just how little sleep and nourishment I was getting. I guess the only positive aspect of this episode is that I was losing weight again … and that’s a good thing!

After 32 years of marriage, Terry and I were usually pretty open with each other. But I was reluctant to tell him about my angst for several reasons. When we first discussed my early retirement, he had given me a lot of good reasons for me to stay on the job a while longer, but I was determined to leave my stressful workload behind. Now Terry was convinced that we had made a good decision, so how could I tell him I was suffering with a thousand and one doubts? How could I tell him that his assurances that we need not worry about money were not good enough for me? Mostly I was afraid he’d think of me as a neurotic basket case, just like my mother.

One beautiful fall day, as we were driving along a color-infused highway, I spilled my guts. To my relief, Terry was totally sympathetic. He pointed out that I had just undergone a major life-changing decision, and it was perfectly normal to fear the unknown. He also reminded me that my mom I had been on tranquillizers for many years before she died, and my anxiety level was nowhere near hers. Now I was glad that the doctor had not prescribed anything stronger that a mild, if ineffective, sleeping pill.

With Terry’s support, it became a little easier for me to handle the physical symptoms of my conflicted psyche. One of his favorite sayings, “This too shall pass”, became my new mantra. And I continued to pray for peace of mind, comfort, and encouragement. Still, I have to admit that during this time my prayers consisted more of talking to God than of listening to Him.

My last day of work was November 30, 2007. December was filled with preparations for Christmas, sprinkled with some long-overdue household projects. Though I still in turmoil, I calmed myself with the assurance that after the holidays I would launch my action plan. Ever the project manager, I laid out the next steps: I’d visit my daughter out west, look for a part-time job, look for a volunteer activity, and somehow discern the mission God had in mind for me. I even imagined a ‘project’ timeline; if I returned from my trip by the end of February, I’d certainly be doing God’s will by April or May! Now all I had to get through the holidays and move forward with confidence. I wasn’t quite sure how I’d do that, but I was about to find out from Father Ron, a Passionist priest in at the St. John Paul of the Cross Retreat Center.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

September 2007 - The Early Retirement Offer

“There is something else the Lord wants you to do.”

That was the message that kept rolling around in my brain for several months before I walked away from my career in information technology. When the thought first came to me, I had no idea I’d retire as early as I did. I had no idea what the Lord’s ‘something’ might be, how I’d go about finding it, and how I’d fit it into my work week of fifty plus hours. I definitely had no idea of the journey I would embark upon in the autumn of 2007. It’s a journey I’m still on, and one that will continue for the rest of my life. It’s a journey of peace and joy, faith and discernment, service and fulfillment. But it's also been a journey fraught with self-doubt, apprehension and temptation. Through it all, it’s a journey I am taking with Christ at my side and with the Holy Spirit in my heart.

Did God call me to take an early retirement? I sure thought so last September, when I first heard of my company’s early retirement offer. It seemed that every sermon I heard at Church, every scripture passage I read, and every perceived response to my pondering prayers pointed in that direction. Of course, it didn’t hurt that I had a backlog of assignments piling up, as the team I worked with continued to dwindle. I’d been hoping to retire as soon as I was eligible in 2009 anyway, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity to speed up the timeline. Plus, there was that little nagging message about doing something else for the Lord that gave me confidence.

My husband and I went over our finances, and we decided that we could make do without my income. I joyfully submitted the paperwork to accept the retirement offer, and made list upon list of all the wonderful ways I’d fill my retirement hours: creative endeavors such as writing and jewelry-making, long-neglected household projects, perhaps a low-stress part-time job for extract income, and of course the soon-to-be-revealed mission with my name on it up in heaven. Many were the prayers of thanksgiving and praise I offered for the amazing opportunity being laid out before me.

All September I had walked around sporting the biggest smile imaginable. Even as the demands of my job increased, I just couldn’t keep that “This will all be over soon” grin from creeping over me. I spoke with others eligible for the early retirement package, and was surprised at the agony some of them experienced in making their decisions. I even heard of one person who had submitted her paperwork, but then rescinded it before the allotted 7-day waiting period was over. Strange! One would think a decision like that would not have been made lightly. My husband and I had certainly discussed and planned and prayed, and we were sure that this was the right decision for us.

On the eighth day after I mailed in my acceptance papers, the phone rang at 5 am. In my job, this was not an unusual time to receive a call. Part of my job dissatisfaction stemmed from being responsible for a business application 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. But that would soon end; in just a few months those 5 am calls would be going to my replacement, not to me.

I hopped out of bed to grab the phone, and I immediately was slammed with a wave of nausea. My head spun, my knees buckled, and I thought for sure I wouldn’t make it out of the bedroom before I passed out or hurled. But I did make it to the phone, handled a fairly simple system problem, then staggered to the bathroom to vomit. I must have a bug, I thought, or perhaps I got out of bed too quickly. But in the weeks to come I would learn that my illness was not due to a physical condition. It was just good old-fashioned self-doubt, coupled with an unhealthy shot of lack of trust in God. Phase One of my retirement journey started that day, even though my last day of work wouldn’t be for another seven weeks.