Last week a friend said, “How is retirement?” I remarked, “I have the cleanest closets in Woodstock.” There is a surreal feel to this moment, because it’s only a moment. I know I will work again, I can feel something emerging and if I can be patient long enough it will reveal itself to me. I want to be complete with my time at Shelter Care, wrap all the loose ends and open myself to the next great adventure before I move on to something new.
I am a doer, I do things.
Things are looking pretty good in the house; I am checking off “Things to do.” Now comes the part that makes me squirm – doing nothing, waiting.
It’s the waiting, in the place of our interior self where we discover how the past teaches us about shaping the future, it’s in the silence and emptiness of self. The only thing that can be filled is an empty cup. In this emptiness I find my truest self, the one that is forming and shaping, taking recent experiences, gleaning them and then being complete I am able to invite something new. Now is the time to sit in the place of the soul where God dwells: waiting for me to put aside busy-ness for contemplation.
I continue to clean my house and yard; work my hands to the good of our home. I know it’s coming and when these serene days vanish – I will miss them, meanwhile, the glow you see in Woodstock, that’s my squeaky clean house.