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.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
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.
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.
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.
• 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.
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.
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.
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