We’re in the air, on the second leg of a cross-country flight to California. The schedule for the next two weeks includes an 80th birthday party (not mine), a drive up the Pacific coast, a visit with friends in the Bay Area, then another birthday (mine) celebrated in Yosemite National Park.
This is my last vacation before retirement (three months away), so I’m learning to not refer to the next trip as a “vacation,” but simply as a “trip.”
When I was beginning to think about retirement, a few months before then pandemic hit, I hit a wall of guilt in feeling like I couldn’t leave my position before my boss, our bishop, retired. Not wanting to leave the diocese in a lurch, not wanting to create that “void” in the staff that I was all too familiar with as the chief of staff who had spent the last 12 years helping fill staff voids from time to time. My frontal lobe kept reminding me that I had every right to contemplate retirement, but the more primitive section of my brain was trying to talk me out of it through multiple channels. Guilt was always in the lead, but a sense of self-importance and a fear of economic insecurity were coming in a close second and third. My spiritual director has been working with me to see retirement as a call, a gift, something God wants to give me with no strings attached (to guilt at least).
Matthew’s gospel records an account of the Holy Family taking flight to Egypt to protect their newborn son from Herod’s wrath. It was a flight away from danger, but also away from the known. They were going to a new place, a foreign, unknown place. Where would they find the support they would need? Would God be there in that new place?
For me, the pandemic became a path to clarity about where I was being called next—a flight toward retirement. A flight away from as much as a flight toward something new. My spouse was forced into an earlier retirement, so part of this call was to follow her into retirement and be more present with her as her spouse. I had also been observing my older sisters struggling with health issues and that made me forecast ahead to my own possible limitations as I aged. There was so much I wanted to do in retirement. So many creative projects at home that I just didn’t have the energy to undertake while working full time. Travel—lots of travel. And volunteering. Lots to still keep my Type A personality busy.
Of course, retirement isn’t exactly about keeping busy, as my spiritual director and spouse keep reminding me. Some of the house projects can be outsourced. Others can wait. Rest and renewal are the first steps. My spiritual director urged me to start planning for retirement, including seeking advice from colleagues who were already there. One wise soul told me to start practicing. “When you have a day off, ask yourself, ‘what would I do today if I were already retired?’ then try doing that.”
A short hike. A trip to a nearby botanical garden. Another day visiting a local museum, then an art gallery. Plenty to do just around town.
I also started planning. Spreadsheets were created. Bucket-list destinations were added. Timetables were created. For my analytical mind, this helped generate excitement and anticipation. I could do this.
Now, just three months away, plans are fairly set. A date has been selected to start drawing pension. Our finances are comfortably budgeted. Though my successor will not be selected until my bishop retires (about a year after me), plans are now in place to temporarily fill the gaps that will be created by my flight into retirement.
As we straddle the country right now, more than five miles above the earth, I am aware that guilt and obligation and fear are receding in the jet trail behind me. There will undoubtedly still be turbulence ahead, but I can handle it. The journey continues. My wings are spreading into a new freedom. I am taking flight toward retirement.