They didn’t sneak up on me. It wasn’t a sucker punch. It was there. I had been searching for some cogent understanding of what awaits the new day. Specifically. My new day.
Had shared with friends a somewhat cavalier, maybe even “uppity” attitude: retirement is a social disease. Went on to suggest my goal in life is to keep more than arm’s distance to retirement.
Then this morning. Tom Ehrich. I wouldn’t know if he’s in a shopping center or fishing the neighborhood lake. But. Each morning he brings such a good word. Make that words.
And today. His last paragraph now becomes my first paragraph. Addressing what I’m sensing in my personal world, a world that often these days has no more than breath and having our Caleb and Faith walk me. But. A sense of both randomness and emptiness. Right there. Before my eyes and seeping into my heart. The last paragraph:
“We need to be taught that we are made for more. We need to raise our children not for monetary success, but to want better of themselves and to give better to others.”
A base hit. Not a strike out. A line drive that eludes the outfielders. And is not an out. Not? For sure.
Made for more. Never for less. To hope people don’t consider us and snap quickly, “Gosh, consider him. There’s less than meets the eye.”
Connecting with churches in a new proposal to be a Stewardship Consultant, to help clergy and church members realize Stewardship is “not what’s in your wallet, but what’s in your heart.” To help them know that Stewardship is not one week in October. To let them know that Stewardship is not about dollar signs. To let them know their value as a child of God has nothing to do with what they have and everything to do with their generosity. To let them know that to give is to grow. To let them know they are made for more.
Connecting with the first paragraph of my new novel, “The Lemon Drop Didn’t Melt.” A novel in which Tricia Gleason is a licensed minister in Snoqualmie, Washington and doesn’t realize there’s someone out there who has one purpose: keep her from breathing…ever again. And to learn her office has been bugged, as well as her home. And to learn the one out there who wants to win is closer to her in life than she thought. With the DNA of her supposed dead husband. Only to learn his exhumed urn is filled with dirt. To let her know that ministry is not a walk in the park. And that Nurse Ratchet abounds…well beyond the destructive nurse in Kezey’s novel, “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”. For there’s a Nurse Ratchet on her Church Council. Made for more.
Sitting with my sons, Matthew and Andrew, Chicago, November [weather takes second place to family] rooting on the Broncos against Da Bears. Go Broncos!
Sharing time with Diane, dancing in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower and visiting the fabulous paintings and sculptures in Florence Museums. Made for more.
So? Retirement? Not today. And not part of the game plan. The game plan? To realize becoming something more is far better than a good idea. It can be the best manner of living.
How about for you?