Every morning I race-walk the circle in my neighborhood. It's about 1.75 miles. It's a good work out to start the day. For years my children would pretend they didn't know me if they saw me. It's not that I don't care what they think of me as I sway my hips and beat the air with my elbows. I truly don't want to embarrass them. But what it comes down to is this: I care more about cheap exercise, close to home, outside than I do about what people think.
Over the last year as I've race-walked, I've watched the reconstruction of a house. About a month ago, the house displayed a sign: READY TO RENT. AS IS. Now what's important to me about this house is that it doesn't seem like it's ready to rent. What do you think? Look at the picture carefully.
It reminds me of retirement -- or actually of any transition when you are used to going up a certain way, and now that way is closed off.
It's been three months since I retired from full-time parish ministry, where for years I went up the steps, walked into my office, sat at my desk, tried to figure out what God wanted me to do, and pulled my hair out each evening that I couldn't get it all done. Oh, there were delightful moments when I didn't go bald. I love preaching and teaching and pastoral care and mission work. I just wasn't hot about meetings and following all the requirements from on high (and I don't mean God, but the bishop) or of being a CEO.
So when I retired on June 5th, it was with gratitude for the wonder of seeing God at work in all my churches through the years, and it was with a real sense of relief that I could get off the treadmill, go outside, and walk at my own pace and (sometimes ridiculous) form.
But what do you do when you miss the steps that take you into dealing with the homeless or with a theological question that is burning in a parishioner's heart like a piece of charcoal in their pocket? What do you do when you long to see people slowly coming into a relationship with God in worship or on mission trips? What do you do when you no longer read the newspaper and the Bible to help interpret the culture of both to a congregation who is willing to listen to you preach? What do you do when you walk up the steps and instead of a doorway there is a stone wall?
I don't know what you do, but I am willing to hear from you and God and myself. I'm willing to spend these precious days listening to you and reflecting on what it means to be alive. Am I a has-been or is it time for me to find a place where the steps actually lead into something? I think the latter is where I'm headed, swinging elbows, swaying hips, and all.
You have helped so many others see that the 'stone wall' was only in their minds - when they truly opened their hearts and spirits, it was gone! Thank you! If you need any help tearing down yours, let me know. But it looks like you are already dismantling it - keep writing!
ReplyDeleteDiana--you may have stopped being a "pastor," but you haven't stopped being magical. :)) Just ask the students from last week's ritual!
ReplyDeleteBeautifully said, Diana. I suspect you have it more together, though, than whoever designed the misplaced steps.
ReplyDeleteI love the image of you race walking the neighborhood. I bet you get mistaken for a lightening bug -- a glowing streak. :) But also I love the image of you sitting silently waiting, listening, which is harder. But you are very good at both. And I must remind you again, that you give me lovely reminders and courageous examples of how to do these things, too. No one else in my life reminds me to breathe peace, listen and wait. (Isn't that astounding?) Thanks be to God for your unique, prophetic, prayerful voice.
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