spirituality, aging

Learning to Pace Myself

/ nagneberg48 / 16 Comments

September 12, 2023

By 9:00 am Monday morning I felt as if I had put in a full day. I had completed the transition from summer to fall decor, changing the quilt and the drapes in our bedroom, along with adding a pumpkin here, a pumpkin there. I vacuumed the bedroom, cleaned the first floor bathroom, and re-organized the tumble of pillows, rugs and table runners in the narrow pillow closet (Yes, I have a pillow closet.)

I started the fall decorating Saturday afternoon after Bruce lugged up the bins full of pumpkins and other fall accessories from the storage area in the lower level. The last few years I have slimmed my collection of fall stuff, but I don’t think anyone would notice!

Beginning in the kitchen, I emptied many of the green Depression glass storage containers and replaced them with vintage copper canisters, bowls, and covered pots for a warmer glow.

I made good progress, but by late afternoon I was worn out and needed to stop. How grateful I was supper was easy–a yummy leftover soup–another sign of fall. (Artichoke, spinach, chicken and brie soup) Following Sunday morning church and potluck lunch, I continued the process, hoping to pronounce a satisfied “Done.” before it was time to fix dinner.

That didn’t quite happen.

What used to take me a day and involved more changes now apparently takes me three. Well, not quite three full days–but effort spread over three days.

In my younger years I could and did press on, cleaning as I re-decorated, until I accomplished the desired look for the new season.

Now I need to pace myself. I need to take breaks–sit down and read the paper or a couple chapters in the current book. I need to plot my movements more and think more strategically about how many times to go up and down the steps. I need to stop earlier.

Instead of encouraging myself to do one more thing, I have to reassure myself that it is ok to go to bed with bins still stacked in the dining room and pillows piled on the garret floor. Tomorrow is another day.

My pace as a 75 year old is different from my pace as a 65 year old–even a 70 year old.

A History of Completion

I have a strong family history of working until IT is done–whatever IT is.

My family moved many times when I was a growing up, and the mode of operation was to unpack every box, hang every picture, fill every bookshelf, and stock every cupboard until it was done. DONE. My parents created home for our family quickly and efficiently, and then life in our new community began.

I adopted that habit, that way of being, and by and large it has served me well, except when it doesn’t.

At times that need to check something off the list, no matter how complicated or time-consuming, sets up an unrealistic expectation. That expectation does not take into account the reality of who I am now.

When I meet with spiritual direction clients, I sometimes ask them to consider “What is possible now?” That question requires pausing and taking a breath. Or in my case these last few days, a break.

Pausing and Pacing

Perhaps the day will come when I no longer choose to create seasonal looks in the house. Perhaps the day will come when the pillow closet is empty and I only have a few favorite items to mark a holiday. Perhaps the day will come when hometending is no longer a spiritual practice for me, a way to honor the ordinary, to experience the movement of God as the seasons of the year follow their usual cycle.

Right now, however, I still love this process, but I just need to pace myself.

An Invitation

Have you noticed any changes in yourself that require a different pace? I would love to know.

What Are You Doing These Days? And Other Difficult Questions

/ nagneberg48 / 12 Comments

August 29, 2023

“What are you doing these days?”

“How’s your summer been?”

“Doing anything exciting? Traveling anywhere?”

At recent gatherings my husband and I have been asked these or similar questions. Twice I answered,
“We’re just boring old people.” That may be true, but we are not without interests and activities, and it is rare that I feel bored.

Why then is it so hard to answer the question? It is easier for me to share Bruce’s gardening at home and at church and his painting and then selling discarded furniture with proceeds going to Lutheran Social Services programs for homeless youth. And it is easier to share the activities of our grands–Maren’s semester in Greece this fall after working at Northern Lights Family Camp all summer and Peter’s recent hiking trip in the Rockies and now starting his sophomore year of high school and playing football.

Why is it so hard for me to share what I am doing? After all, I love what I am privileged to do.

Most of my days feel rich and full, so why am I uncomfortable sharing the ways I experience this time of my life?

I don’t have an easy answer, but I wonder if at least part of the answer is that what I do, I do most days. I read. I pray. I hometend. I pay bills. I go to Target. I watch yet another series on BritBox. I answer emails and go for walks. I spend time with friends and family and roam backroads with my husband. I go to church.

The stuff of life. The normal stuff of life. The movement from day to day.

I also meet with my spiritual direction clients and plan sessions for the weekly contemplative writing group at church and organize occasional events for Third Chapter, Spirituality As We Age, also at church. I write two posts every week for this blog and am always working on an essay to submit to various publications.

These activities are also the stuff of my life. The normal stuff of my life. The movement from day to day.

In that ongoing movement I try to pay attention and notice the movement of God.

That’s what I do with my days.

Perhaps I need to practice answering the question. I need to have an answer I can pull out of my back pocket–an answer that is simple and accurate, but in some way expresses the constellation of my life.

“Thanks for asking. Life is rich and full. How privileged I feel being able to do what matters to me. Yesterday, for example, I ….”

I love the familiar Annie Dillard quote, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.”

Exciting days? Not so much. Big travel plans. Not really, except for our weekend rambles and our road trip to see our Cleveland kids in the fall. No, we are not going to Greece to visit Maren. This is her time, her adventure, and we will rejoice in what she shares.

Instead, we are living fully and deeply and joyfully in the stuff of each day.

An Invitation

How do you answer the “what are you doing?” questions? I would love to know.

Note:

One of the women in my personal writing group has just had an important article about the perils of wetlands published. I encourage you to read it. https://minnesotareformer.com/2023/08/25/u-s-supreme-court-has-put-precious-wetlands-in-peril/

Looking Back and Looking Ahead

/ nagneberg48 / 6 Comments

August 22, 2023

If my parents were still alive they would have celebrated their 80th wedding anniversary this past June and their 100th birthdays this month. They were born days apart in 1923, but died years apart — my mother in 2003 and my father more recently in 2020.

When my mother died of colon cancer after three years of remission, my father’s pain was tangible, but also his amazement. His wife dying first was not the plan. Men were supposed to die first, and much of their financial planning was with that thought in mind. He wanted to make sure Mom would be well-taken care of financially. Never did he think about what being a widower might mean for him.

Although he was lonely and missed her deeply, he did well. He continued his work as a consultant for several years and remained in their home until some health problems led to his decision to move into an independent living facility, where he lived for about ten years.

I suspect if Dad had died first Mom would have moved out of the house earlier and would have developed a social life with her new neighbors. Her needs for help from her family would have been different from my Dad’s, but I think she, too, would have done well in her years as a widow.

What’s important to remember is that there wasn’t a choice about who was going to die first.

What is true, however, is one of them would die before the other.

How obvious that seems, but I wonder how often we operate under mistaken assumptions. Like my father’s assumption that he would die before my mother.

In my August 1 post I mentioned that my husband and I recently had a conversation about future plans. Would I stay in the house if he died first? “No,” I said, but he said he would stay in the house, if I died first. Our conversation, brief as it was, focused on our individual needs and decisions. What strikes me now, however, is that unless we die in a car accident or some other catastrophic way, ONE OF US WILL DIE FIRST. And one of us will continue to live for an unknown period of time.

There are obviously all sorts of implications with that awareness, including financial ones but also thoughts about who I am as an individual. What am I doing now to maintain my own personhood, to continue to develop my own interests, to grow, and to connect to others in meaningful ways? What would be my challenges as a person newly uncoupled? My challenges might be different than my husband’s. Are there ways we can help each other now prepare for a life on our own after so many years of being a pair?

Obviously, we have no idea when either of us will die, and neither of us dwells on that question. Instead, we attempt to live fully and gratefully for these years that feel like such a bonus. At the same time we live aware of more days behind us than ahead of us, and it is good to continue the conversations.

In the meantime my sibs and our spouses will gather in the next few days to lift a glass or two to the memory of our parents and the years they were privileged to live.

An Invitation

What assumptions do you have as you live in your elder years? I would love to know.

Late Summer Thoughts

/ nagneberg48 / 10 Comments

August 15, 2023

Have you noticed that gardens are looking frowsy –overgrown and perhaps even a bit weary of their own lushness? Many trees in our part of the world look tired. The greens are no longer fresh and new. The fading has begun. Some trees seem eager even to shed their greenness and lighten their load.

Even the rose bush on the path can no longer hold up its head. I’ve had enough perkiness for one season, it seems to say.

Well, it is late summer, after all.

As a child at this point in the summer I remember feeling, “Oh good, the summer is almost over and soon school will begin.” I was always eager for the first day of school. And the second and third and…

Now, while I love fall much more than summer and spring and perhaps not quite as much as I love winter, I am learning in my 70’s to not wish this time away. No matter the season. For who knows what next summer will bring or if I will have a next summer. What losses and changes will the months leading to next summer bring?

I’m learning, slowly and not always so steadily, to be here now. Now.

Now in spite of the heat and the mosquitos, the increased laundry and ironing, the dust on the tables when the windows are open, the bulging traffic heading to the lake on Friday afternoons, the empty pews on Sunday mornings as people vacation, the complaints about rainy weekends, and even the expectations we better have fun or make good use of this time because “soon it will be winter.” (Good, I think, but only smile and nod.)

I am aware, however, that my reasons for fall and winter yearning have become less. After all once warm weather ends I will no longer be able to sit in the Paris garden. Going places, even the grocery store, will take more thought and effort. How many layers do I need to wear? Is it going to snow today? Maybe I should wait till tomorrow. During those months, there is always the concern that a snowstorm may derail plans.

And recently, I heard reports on NPR about the upcoming flu season and what shots and COVID vaccinations will be recommended.

No, none of the strong preferences or affiliations with a season make any real sense.

Just be here now.

Whether sweating or shivering.

Whether hanging out or hunkering in.

Whether adding ice to a tall drink or chopping ice off the sidewalks.

Joy Harjo in her book about why she writes, Catching the Light, says to “Start anywhere to catch the light.”

No matter the season, I say, may I catch the light of a long summer’s evening or the passing of a firefly or even the glimmer of a new idea or clarifying thought.

May I catch the light as it glistens and glides over wildflowers on the side of the road or flowers picked from our backyard garden and now arranged in a small white pitcher on my desk or the light that wraps and warms families playing, resting or reuniting.

Mainly what I’m paying attention to these days, as I attempt to Be Here Now, is the light within. That happens more and more as I lighten the load of regrets and desires unmet and the “shoulds” expressed in the expectations of others or, let’s face it, my expectations of myself.

I’m paying attention to the light that comes from the spaciousness of God’s love and of Jesus’s way, encouraging each of us to lighten up and to enlighten one another with love.

That’s the kind of light that knows no season, knows no time.

An Invitation

What thoughts are you having during these late summer days? I would love to know.

                           

Reading and Aging. Aging and Reading

/ nagneberg48 / 14 Comments

August 10, 2023

“How can you read so many books?” I’m often asked.

A few months ago a friend wondered if I read as many as 50 books a year, and I felt a bit sheepish when I said, “Actually, this past year I read 150.”

How is that possible? Well, again, sheepishly I admit I often read, instead of doing something else I should make more time for in my life, like walking and other exercise. I suppose I could listen to audio books then, however, and my book totals would not change that much.

I am a fast reader and sometimes I exhort myself to slow down. I know I sometimes miss something I would appreciate more if I took my time, but oh well.

I think one reason I am able to read so many books is that I only read what I want to read. I quickly discard a book and move on, if it doesn’t grab me right away. I’m not willing to suffer through a book that doesn’t appeal to me when I could be reading a book that absorbs me. Perhaps that is why I am no longer interested in being in a book group–I want to read what I want to read. Yes, I know by making a quick “yes/no” decision I miss out on reading something that would have become memorable, but oh well…

Reading is a pleasurable habit. It is an integral part of my life–not just an add on when there is nothing else to do. While I have always loved to read and considered it one of life’s great pleasures, I have not always been able to read to the degree I can now.

Reading More as I Age

Last Saturday I had a busy hometending day: making a grocery list and then grocery shopping, making a batch of pesto with basil from our garden, doing some laundry, and cleaning the first floor of the house.

In the past I would have moved determinedly from one task to another and not thought much about it. Just a normal hometending day, but now what I need to do is to pace myself. I need to pause between tasks and take a break.

For example, when I had put away the groceries and harvested the basil, I grabbed my book and read for 20 minutes before getting out the food processor and the pesto ingredients. Then after making the pesto and putting away what I used, doing a quick washing of the counters, I moved back into the snug for more reading time.

That back and forth continued until the kitchen and bathroom were scrubbed clean and I had put away the vacuum cleaner and other cleaning supplies. The house looked fresh, AND I had read a big chunk of the mystery I was currently reading.

In my younger version of myself, I would have done all the required tasks, bing, bing, bing, still leaving enough energy to write a blog post or some letters or work on an essay or take a walk or whatever. Not anymore.

I am trying to pay attention to my energy levels and to match those to what I feel I must or need to do. And while I still manage to accomplish a great deal, I need to spread tasks over more time. I need to pace myself and build in more rest and recovery time.

And the winner of this new state of being is more time for reading!!!!! Yahoo!

An Invitation

Are you reading more or less as you age? I would love to know.

Special Request:

I am writing an article for BookWomen about keeping a book journal and TBR (To Be Read) lists. I would love to hear from you about the ways you keep track of what you read or want to read. OR if you don’t record your reading life, why not? Do you use Good Reads or another online method? Do you have a physical book dedicated to book lists? What else do you keep track of in your reading life? Number of pages read? A summary of each book read? Do you give books stars to evaluate what you’ve read? I would love to learn it all.

Send me an email at nagneberg48@gmail.com and do it soon, please. I have an August 20th deadline, so I am working on this now.

Thanks to all of you who have responded already. I plan to reply to you individually, by the way, but in the meantime I am grateful to you.

Feeling Hopeful

/ nagneberg48 / 6 Comments

August 8, 2023

On our way to pick-up grandson Peter from Camp Widjiwagan in Ely, MN, our daughter Kate suggested stopping at the Paul Wellstone Memorial. Wellstone was Minnesota’s senator from 1991-2002. Just days before the election the plane he was in, along with his wife and daughter, campaign workers and pilots, crashed near Eveleth, MN. Wellstone was a beloved senator known for his progressive politics and his belief that individuals can and must make a difference. In fact, it is not unusual to still see cars with Paul Wellstone bumper stickers. He was and remains a hero to many.

We need a new kind of citizenship so that people earn the rank of the patriot because of involvement in their community affairs. We as a society need to encourage people to focus not just on individual wants, but on serving the the larger community.

Paul Wellstone

Standing before each of the ancient boulders commemorating the lives of each who died in that crash, I couldn’t help but wonder what Wellstone would say today about the precariousness of our democracy. I have no doubt, whether he would still be Minnesota’s senator or not, that he would remain devoted to public service and would be inspiring others to improve the lives of all those in need and experiencing injustice.

I admit, however, it is hard to be hopeful these days and far too easy to fall into fear and discouragement. As I walked this memorial trail, I felt sad and sober as I thought about these inspirational lives of action that had ended far too soon and worried about the morass we seem to find ourselves in today. Is it possible to build on Paul Wellstone’s optimism and energy? And his legacy.

At the beginning of the trail a poem by LeAnn Littlewolf is carved on a large boulder, along with the image of an eagle. Apparently, eagles were seen soaring over the crash site as rescuers arrived.

I took the message of the eagles so beautifully expressed in the poem with me as we continued on our way to Widji.

Peter had been on a ten day hiking trip in the Rockies, along with four other campers and a counselor. During that time there had been no communication home, and we were all eager to hear about their adventures and to know that the time away from screens and conveniences had been positive. We were full of questions, but first, we just needed to give that big guy a squeeze. The reunion was sweet, indeed.

Peter had an incredible time and is even talking about going on a longer trip next year.

SONY DSC
SONY DSC

Many other groups had returned from their adventures that same day and during the closing campfire, we were treated to stories and memories and accomplishments. Much had been learned. Much had been gained–confidence, compassion and respect for others, care and love for all of creation. The bonds that had been formed were tangible, and I felt the eagle spirit within me and around me soar.

We must not be complacent. Nor can we elders simply turn the mess we are in over to our young people, but it is in this kind of preparation and intention that our hope becomes alive.

On the way home, as Peter talked nonstop, describing each meal, each peak they climbed and the beauties of what they saw, along with the personalities of each of his new brothers, I thought about Paul Wellstone’s earnest encouragement.

We all do better when we all do better.

There is good reason to hope.

An Invitation

Where have you experienced a reason to hope. I would love to know.

Special Request:

I am writing an article for BookWomen about keeping a book journal and TBR (To Be Read) lists. I would love to hear from you about the ways you keep track of what you read or want to read. OR if you don’t record your reading life, why not? Do you use Good Reads or another online method? Do you have a physical book dedicated to book lists? What else do you keep track of in your reading life? Number of pages read? A summary of each book read? Do you give books stars to evaluate what you’ve read? I would love to learn it all. Send me an email at nagneberg48@gmail.com and do it soon, please. I have an August 20th deadline, so I am working on this now. Thanks–and I hope to hear from you.

Thanks to all of you who have responded. I intend to respond to each of you personally, but before I can do that, please know I am grateful.

The Lessons of A Temporary Space

/ nagneberg48 / 13 Comments

August 1, 2023

The steps to the garret needed a fresh coat of paint. The white was dingy and scuffed –no matter how much I scrubbed, and frankly, I was tired of scrubbing. The first decision was to change from white to a pleasant blue, but the second decision was harder—when?! 

I spend a lot of time in the garret. I meet with clients there. I write there and do other desk tasks there. That’s where I create the materials for my groups. My spirituality library and lots of other stuff is there. Plus, the walk-in closet houses the majority of my clothes. 

Since it was too hot to work in the garden, my husband volunteered to take on the project, but the sanding, painting, and drying process would most likely take three days–maybe more. 

I needed to move my center of operations. Fortunately, I have a good alternative. The snug. I even have a desk there, and some of my clients prefer to meet there, instead of climbing the stairs. Up and down I went, moving my laptop, printer, lots of files. LOTS of files, as I considered the projects I needed to work on for the next few days. Stapler. Thesaurus. Oh, and clothes and shoes. What would I want to wear?

Much to my surprise, the space felt comfortable and cozy and I enjoyed working there. If I needed to live only on the first floor, the snug could be my office. 

Even more of a surprise: the stairs were finished and dry in a couple days and I returned to the garret. 

This temporary move plus the fact that we are in the early talking stages about remodeling our first floor bathroom to include a shower (The only shower in the house is in the bathroom in the finished lower level) makes me think even more about the conversation we elders seem to have every time we get together. 

Next steps. What will be our next home? And when? And, of course, the ongoing conversation about the process of getting to that next home –the dreaded downsizing!

Bruce and I plan to stay in our home as long as possible, bringing in services as needed. What would that mean? Is it possible to live only on the first floor, for example? How do we need to prepare for that possibility? Would I stay in this house if Bruce were to die before me? No. I would find it challenging to maintain the home (His gardens!) and would prefer to move into a nice apartment. He, however, would stay in the house if he survives me. 

That’s what we think now, but who knows what might influence a different answer and outcome. And who knows when that will happen. 

How important it is to stay aware of what we are thinking and feeling. What do we need to do now, in order to live our elder life in the best way possible? What do we worry about? What are we experiencing? Enjoying?

How am I changing and what does that mean to how I live? How do I want to use my energy? And how can I stay open to change and ways of coping and managing that change? Am I willing to receive and even ask for help? 

How important it is to listen to the messages I state so vehemently to myself and perhaps to others. Are there areas where I am in denial or stuck? 

“I will not get a hearing aid.” 

 “I will never use a cane.” 

 “I will not move into assisted living.” 

 “I will not give-up driving.” 

“I can’t live without all my books.”  

“We have always had Christmas here and we always will” 

OR… 

Fill-in the blank.

Sometimes I think we elders return to our two-year old toddler beings. “I won’t do it, and you can’t make me.” 

How important it is to continue the conversation. What concerns the family members who love and support us? How is it we hope to live as we age and how can we make that happen? How can these years continue to unfold and enfold us as the people we were created to be and as the beloved of God?

In the meantime I have returned to the garret, but I have returned feeling more willing and able to open my heart and mind to the gifts and the challenges of my next steps. 

An Invitation

What are your thoughts about the next steps, the next place? What gets in the way of being open to those steps? I would love to know. 

A Time to Celebrate

/ nagneberg48 / 9 Comments

July 17, 2023

For Celebration

Now is the time to free the heart,
Let all intentions and worries stop,
Free the joy inside the self,
Awaken to the wonder of your life.

Open your eyes and see the friends
Whose hearts recognize your face as kin,
Those whose kindness watchful and near,
Encourages you to live everything here.

See the gifts the years have given,
Things your effort could never earn,
The health to enjoy who you want to be
And the mind to mirror mystery.
		John O’Donohue 
                To Bless the Space
                Between Us, A Book of Blessings

How close the words “celebration” and “blessings” feel to me.

This past weekend our family gathered to celebrate my husband’s and my 75th birthdays. Bruce’s is later this month, and mine was in April. When our family asked how we wanted to celebrate this milestone birthday, we expressed our desire for all of us to simply be together, to have time to enjoy one’s company, to be in each other’s presence.

That is not as easy as it sounds. Our son Geof and daughter-in-love Cricket live in Cleveland and have demanding jobs and a busy life. Our St Paul family, daughter Kate, son-in-love Mike and our grandkids, Pete and Maren juggle MANY balls, including Pete’s summer baseball and football training schedules.

Yes, finding a time when we could all be together was challenging. Yesterday Pete left on a 19-day hiking trip in the Rockies and could Maren manage some time away from her summer job at Northern Lights, a YMCA family camp in northern Minnesota? She leaves for a semester in Greece at the end of August and won’t be home till Christmas, so being together seemed even more important.

Thanks to everyone’s cooperation and Kate and Cricket’s organizational skills, the weekend happened, and it truly was a celebration. A blessing to be held tenderly and lovingly in our hearts and memories.

The “doing” was great fun–going to Pete’s last baseball game followed by pizza at a local brewery, a Saturday pontoon cruise on White Bear Lake (Maren was our captain because one of her jobs as director of outdoor activities at camp is to be in charge of the pontoons); dinner at an excellent restaurant, The Lexington or “The Lex,” a St Paul tradition; church where we filled an entire pew and introduced Geof and Cricket to that loving community; lunch at Kate and Mike’s club (we had intended a poolside afternoon, but it was too cool); and an evening movie, Mission Impossible, at the iconic Riverview movie theater, which has the best popcorn anywhere.

Even more special than the “doing” was the “being.” The being together. The laughing. The catching-up and the connecting. The strengthening of our bonds of love. The opportunity to know one another more deeply–who we are now and the ground and the paths that brought us to this point.

At one point I asked everyone to tell about a memorable birthday. Interestingly, several of us shared stories about our 40th birthday celebrations. For example, Bruce and I each had surprise birthday parties for each other. That topic led to more stories about memorable celebrations and tales about earlier years. Throughout the weekend I kept thinking about other memorable birthdays like my 50th when we visited Kate and Mike in Tanzania where they did mission work for a year and more recently the 70th birthday party they had for us, inviting friends and family.

I thought about how in past years we have celebrated those who now are no longer physically with us, but also how Pete and Maren have so much living ahead of them–celebrations, along with unwanted changes and challenges. More and more I feel the blending of past, present, and future, but perhaps this is a topic for another day.

Often on a birthday card I write, “May you feel celebrated.” Well, Bruce and I felt celebrated, for sure, but I think what was really celebrated was the love and acceptance and joy of our family’s ongoing life. What a blessing that is.

An Invitation

What have you celebrated recently? How was that a blessing in your life? I would love to know.

Paying Attention and Declaring a Time-Out

/ nagneberg48 / 8 Comments

July 11, 2023

Recently, I experienced a week of wondering if it was time to let go of some or all of the activities that have been important in my life in recent years, such as facilitating the weekly writing group at church or meeting with spiritual direction clients. The week was a busy one, and I confess as I approached each item on the calendar, I wished them away. I even felt some anxiety about my ability to lead well, to listen well, to respond and be open. I felt little, if any, enthusiasm for what during other weeks I anticipated with eagerness and interest. Was I simply impersonating an old version of myself, of what I think I should do, continue to do, instead of want to do, feel called to do in the most glorious, joyous way?

Each day as I looked at my calendar and noted what was required for the day, I asked God to just get me through to the point where I could say, “Whew, that’s done.”

That’s not exactly what anyone needs in a spiritual director or in a teacher or leader.

Over a year ago I immersed myself in a period of intentional discernment about whether or not I should continue writing and revising my spiritual memoir or was it time to say, “Enough. Let it be.” Eventually, I decided yes, it was time to let go of working more on the memoir, hoping to find a publisher or deciding to self-publish. That decision continues to feel right.

Now, however, am I entering a new time of discernment? Is it time to retire? I am 75, after all, so that doesn’t seem like an out of the ordinary question. And if it is time to change the menu of my days, what does that mean? How can I continue in my various roles if I no longer feel drawn to them or have energy for them? Has the call I have felt for so long ended?

Big questions.

Then a curious thing happened. And it happened with each appointment and each event. Over and over again during the week.

First of all, I showed up. I left my reluctance outside the door, and I showed up. And then much to my surprise, I engaged. Actually, I re-engaged. And each time I felt a surge of gratitude and love and delight.

In each instance I noticed the movement of God.

But I am a slow learner apparently, for I moved through almost the entire week wondering, as Nadia Bolz Weber has said, if it was time to walk gently away from where I have planted my flags. My flags of identity, of who I say I am.

Finally, while sitting in silence, feeling weary and uninspired, I realized what I needed was something quite simple. I needed a time-out. I didn’t need to make a big change in my life. I didn’t need to announce a Sacred No to all I have loved doing. Instead, I needed to shout a Sacred Yes to some temporary spaciousness. Some simple rest and restoration time. Some time on the patio and in our “Paris” garden. Some unfilled days.

I didn’t need to change my life. I didn’t need or want to retire. I just needed to create some space around myself.

This is not a time to discern the pros and cons of a big decision. That may come at any point, but not right now. Nope, what I actually need to do is pay attention–to the tickly nudges and the quiet melody in the background. I need to close my eyes lightly, not tightly, and feel gentle breezes smooth my rough edges, as well as “the timeless embrace of God,” as Henri Nouwen says.

Not an ending, but a time-out.

The timing was perfect, for the weekend leading to July 4th was at hand, and we had nothing planned. Spacious days beckoned me, and I said, “yes.”

By the way, I am now back to more normal routines and schedules, and I am happy to be there. All is well. Well, indeed.

An Invitation

When do you know when you need a time-out? I would love to know.