How many people do you know who were retired for six months before they realized it? Maybe someone with a serious head injury, or some unfortunate recipient of a seriously twisted practical joke, or some misguided soul who stopped taking their pills. But no. I am here to tell you that after six months of trying to figure out this strange new stage of my life, I finally realized that it's called retirement. Yes! And when the realization hit home I nearly did a happy dance! Mothering is a job that never ends, in one capacity or another, so there is no retirement from that blessed career; but Education Management Specialist is a title I am only too glad to have relinquished. Since September of 1978 I have immersed myself body, soul and spirit in that career, and in June 2009 it came to an end, like a whisper.
This was a career I had never planned for nor prepared for, but it was the path I found myself on as I took one step at a time following the illumination provided by the lamp of God's Word. Step. Looks good. Step. Wait, where am I? Step. Whoa! What am I doing here? Step. Deep breaths needed because we're too far in to turn back now. Step. This is awesome! Step. I hate this! Step. God is teaching me many new and wonderful things. Step. Where is God in this mess? Step. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Step. Did God get me confused with someone else when He started me on this path? Step. This is very rewarding and satisfying. Step. I am losing my mind. Step. Do not grow weary in well-doing. Step. Do not grow weary in well-doing. Step. Do not grow weary in well-doing. Step. How many people shall we invite to the graduation party?
And suddenly it was over. Thirty-one years of stepping along the Education Management Specialist path. Choosing a private Christian school and managing the transportation, homework, chicken pox, fundraisers, and social crises. Keeping a child home and refusing to send her back to school where she was chronically sick and unhappy, risking the consequences of a visit from Child Protective Services. Jail for Daddy? Having our child taken from us? It mattered not. When the light from God's Word shined on the path, that is where I stepped. Homeschooling! That's where the path was taking us all along, in 1985 in New York State. And, oh, the work, and fun, and exhaustion, and exhilaration, and discouragement, and gratification, and stretching, and tears that lay along that path. But every path has twists and turns, and before I knew it we were taking a fork that was called private Christian school again. My rebellious heart fought against it even as I continued taking the steps in faith. Valedictorian for one, and special ed for another. What was God thinking when He put this family together? But nothing along that career path was ever more worth celebrating than the final leg of the journey, when the last of the litter had the clarity of mind and vision to request help in completing the course. And while we all experienced a severe jostling through those last two years, causing us to hang on for all we were worth to God's grace, we reached the end and the diploma sealed the deal.
So now here I am, officially retired from teaching and transporting and juggling school calendars and providing endless pep talks. I keep thinking about what that means, and all the options that gives God with my time, and I keep stepping. Step. Step. Step. Never a dull day when God's Word is a lamp for my feet and a light for my path.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Addictions
Addiction is such a bad word. So negative. I mean, when you hear the word addiction, don't you automatically think of things like drugs, and alcohol, and pornography, and Cadbury Cream Eggs? But where is it written that only destructive things can be addictive? Wouldn't the world be a better place if we were all addicted to things that make us better? Just imagine if your next door neighbor were addicted to generosity. Or if your children were addicted to pleasing you. Or if you yourself were addicted to fresh vegetables. Think how much better your life would be in some ways. Are those things totally impossible? Okay, maybe not impossible, but highly unlikely.
All this is simply a stalling tactic, as it is not my favorite thing to make confessions, but I feel compelled to confess that I am prone to addictions. Having nurtured and then thrown off quite a variety of addictions across the years, I have come to recognize the symptoms of a new one creeping up on me. The first telltale sign is that I do this thing without engaging the decision-making part of my brain, and I keep doing it even though my rational side argues that it is a waste of one of my valued resources. Money. Time. Energy. Relationships. The addictive thing doesn't respond to reason. It doesn't care about logic. It just wants what it wants. It wants a chunk of me.
The most recent addiction is trying to eat a piece of my brain. But really, seldom is there only a single resource being sacrificed to an addiction. In this case, time is also going up in smoke at the rate of an hour a day. Online Scrabble. Ooooo, it's so hard to see it in print. It makes me downright squeamish to put it in black and white where I can no longer pretend that it's just a harmless way to pass a little time now and then. Scrabble is a game that was invented for two or more people to play. A bonding experience. But what happens when the Scrabble opponent is a computer? Am I developing a meaningful relationship with a humanoid? Gross. Is my intellect getting a workout, sharpening those mental skills to stave off dementia? How would I ever know?
While I may or may not be strengthening my precious synapses, there is one sure way to identify an addiction that can accurately be filed under D for destructive. The simple test is how I react to my loved ones when I am interrupted. If an interruption prompts a calm response, then all is well and I can indulge my addiction in good conscience. But if, on the other hand, my response is less than sweet, less than kind, less than patient, less than loving, well, I'd better stop and ask myself some hard questions. Is this addiction making someone else sad? Is this addiction hurting someone else's feelings because I spoke harshly without just cause? Is this addiction bringing out the best in me, or is it feeding the side of me that should be crucified?
Sigh. Here I am again, back to my life verse for another life adjustment. Gotta throw off the online Scrabble. It was fun while it lasted. For me anyway.
All this is simply a stalling tactic, as it is not my favorite thing to make confessions, but I feel compelled to confess that I am prone to addictions. Having nurtured and then thrown off quite a variety of addictions across the years, I have come to recognize the symptoms of a new one creeping up on me. The first telltale sign is that I do this thing without engaging the decision-making part of my brain, and I keep doing it even though my rational side argues that it is a waste of one of my valued resources. Money. Time. Energy. Relationships. The addictive thing doesn't respond to reason. It doesn't care about logic. It just wants what it wants. It wants a chunk of me.
The most recent addiction is trying to eat a piece of my brain. But really, seldom is there only a single resource being sacrificed to an addiction. In this case, time is also going up in smoke at the rate of an hour a day. Online Scrabble. Ooooo, it's so hard to see it in print. It makes me downright squeamish to put it in black and white where I can no longer pretend that it's just a harmless way to pass a little time now and then. Scrabble is a game that was invented for two or more people to play. A bonding experience. But what happens when the Scrabble opponent is a computer? Am I developing a meaningful relationship with a humanoid? Gross. Is my intellect getting a workout, sharpening those mental skills to stave off dementia? How would I ever know?
While I may or may not be strengthening my precious synapses, there is one sure way to identify an addiction that can accurately be filed under D for destructive. The simple test is how I react to my loved ones when I am interrupted. If an interruption prompts a calm response, then all is well and I can indulge my addiction in good conscience. But if, on the other hand, my response is less than sweet, less than kind, less than patient, less than loving, well, I'd better stop and ask myself some hard questions. Is this addiction making someone else sad? Is this addiction hurting someone else's feelings because I spoke harshly without just cause? Is this addiction bringing out the best in me, or is it feeding the side of me that should be crucified?
Sigh. Here I am again, back to my life verse for another life adjustment. Gotta throw off the online Scrabble. It was fun while it lasted. For me anyway.
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