A Remarkable Discovery

I noticed today that I’m happy. As I write that sentence, it seems strange even to me. Not strange that I would write it, but strange that it is true.

I left the parish with considerable reservation and regret. I believed it was a vocation and that, as imperfect an instrument as I might be, I could still produce meaningful music, as it were. Certainly in the last weeks and days of my time there, the affirmations I received from so many people seemed to confirm that my life there had made a difference in others’ lives. That’s really all I ever wanted was to make a difference. Knowing that I would leave that arena seemed to take away the opportunity to continue to make that difference.

I’m pretty sure I was wrong about that. Today, after working a few hours in my study on an outline for a presentation I have to do, I mulched the flower beds that Carol and I planted yesterday. I worked until my back and the mulch gave out. I showered, had lunch, and took a little nap. On rising, I went to the local library book sale and added several volumes to my history library and selected several novels to read. I received emails from family and friends and responded to them. I spoke to my wife on the phone and read from my newly purchased novel (written in 1981!).

Soon I’ll make myself a little supper and then return to my study to work a bit more on my outline and to read a bit more of my book. Tomorrow I’ll finish the mulch job, maybe mow the lawn or prune some shrubs, work a bit on lecture notes for a seminary course I’m teaching in the fall and, then with Carol, my daughter-in-law and grandkids, go to the triple A Redbirds baseball game in a grand stadium.

While not so remarkable for a weekend, it is my life every day. What is missing is the stress of organizational confusion and ineptitude, of petty bickering, and someone else setting my schedule. I’m making a difference in my own life and through the work I’m doing now and then, continue to make life more bearable for others as I seek to humanize the workplace for the workshop participants. And of course, I hope to make a difference in the fall as I teach clergy wantabees about the history of their tradition. But if no one registers for the course, I will still have enjoyed writing the lectures and writing them at my pace.

I’m happy. I approached retirement with fear and uncertainty. But now I enjoy it without fear and with no more uncertainty than anybody else has about their tomorrows—maybe less. I haven’t slowed down as so many people have encouraged me to do or as I thought I would. But the meaning and value of what I do as I’m busy has shifted. Perhaps I have found a new vocation. And being happy and at peace is a consequence of that find.

The peace of the Lord be with you.

Jerry+