Retirement: A Labor Day's Reflection

I told my parents yesterday that I wished I could retire. They looked at me and laughed.

I’ve made the statement many times before—the one about wanting to retire. I said it when I was teaching. I said it when working on church staff. I said it when I was in divinity school. I say it now.

Yet I know it’s not what I really wish.

The idea of retirement is nice because it comes with endless possibilities in my mind. It comes with funding and benefits that would free me to go and do many different things—almost all of which include an element of serving and giving back to both this world and the God who created it. It comes with ability to create my own volunteer schedule and to have my own dress code. It comes with the opportunity to rest. And I so longingly desire to rest.

But when it comes down to it, I’m thankful for the ability to work. I’m thankful for the structure and schedule—for opportunities to look beyond the comfort of self and focus on the needs around me. I’m thankful for community and opportunities to make applesauce for or deliver coffee to my coworkers. I’m thankful for diversity and the way gifts and talents work. I’m thankful for routines and planning and the sense of accomplishment that comes when marking things off of the list. I’m thankful for vision and purpose and for all of the tools that I need to complete my work. I’m thankful for a desk and a computer and an office with a window and bookshelves. And I’m thankful for a paycheck that I earn that allows me to live within my means and still have some to give back. I’m thankful for the dignity and worth that comes through holding a job and keeping it. And I’m thankful that God has called me to play a tune outside myself.

As I write this post, I’m getting ready to load my car and head back to South Carolina. I’ve been in North Carolina for the weekend—spending time with friends and family members—and I have been content to be surrounded by joy and love. In times like these, driving back to SC for work is hard. Thoughts of being retired seem so much nicer than thoughts of going into the office tomorrow. Yet…I know that my office is where I am called, so I will drive back with a sense of purpose…albeit it clouded with sadness tonight.

I suppose this is how life is. A mixture of wish and reality; of longing and acceptance; of joy and sorrow; and everything in between. I’m coming to accept this reality and learn to live with and through it…even when my parents laugh at me because my distant wishing is a bit silly.