It’s finally here. After 43+ years of “workin’ for the man,” I am now my own man. No more rushing to work, dragging back to the house, then squeezing food and sleep in between before it starts over again. Now I enjoy walking in the park every day with my wife and dogs, getting free coffee and doughnuts with the other old folks on senior day at Kroger, waiting for my car to be fixed rather than leaving it, and being able to hop in the car whenever my wife says, “Let’s go to …” — any time of the day.
And, thank God, I have lived 59 days of it so far.
Retire is a funny word. Sounds like re-tire, or putting new tires on something. Tire can also mean running out of energy. So re-tire means finding new ways to run out of energy. Sounds tiring.
I am one of the baby boomers, those who were the result of thousands of soldiers returning from World War II, looking to re-unite with, or find new, loved ones. And there are a lot of us.
Life, like a tire, is round. You start out new, go a lot of places, maybe have a few flats, lose your tread and are eventually discarded. But the air inside keeps rolling. The air is your spirit. It’s what makes your design and tread unique. God is the designer. He formed you, balanced you, filled you with air and sent you on your way. But he let you pick the route.
Getting run down or uneven treads, needing a front-end alignment or an occasional tow is your doing. Getting trip worn is a part of life. Some folks can’t accept being old; they fight it tooth and nail, using everything on the market that they can afford. As I am only 62, there are a lot of elderly who hear my complaints and respond with, “You don’t know what it’s like to really be old.” And they’re right. I can use the same line on my juniors, except for the “really old” part.
Many people who retire rely on their jobs as the stabilizing factor in their lives. So, when they retire, they are left empty. Sure, they had plans to do this or that, and probably did a little of it, but soon realize that they just don’t know what to do with themselves. That’s when their health begins to fail. I’ve known a few who seemed to give up and die, simply because, in their minds, life is over. You step off of the work bus for a short trip on the retirement bus, only to end up on the death bus. The line moves forward.
With the exception of some catastrophic or debilitating illnesses, the drive toward our goals keeps us fit, makes us look forward to tomorrow. My faith in God keeps me going, anxious to see what’s around the next bend, even if it leads me to “the other side.” My walk with Jesus refines my journey, refreshes me and teaches me how to relate to my fellow travelers.
The bottom line is that you have a choice. You can anticipate, with some agony, your next heart attack, loss of your spouse or reaching the inevitable dementia-ridden existence, where your children treat you like a toddler and eventually like a newborn, maybe even discard you. Or you can enjoy each moment, each day with your spouse, children, grandchildren, other assorted relatives and friends — your life. And let God take care of tomorrow.
Retirement is GOOD.
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