A personal reflection on retirement, this piece explores the quiet and often unexpected “emptying” stage that follows a lifetime of work – and how it can open the way to rest, renewal, and a deeper sense of purpose.
“Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, O God, till I declare your power to the next generation, Your might to all who are to come” – Psalm 71:18
In my previous column, I shared about retirement as “letting go…” This time, it is the emptying stage…
Retirement is still a strange word to me – even when I got married and was raising a family or busy with other things, paid work was something I was attached to. Although I did not work for a single company for 51 years, I did my hard work like most people, all those years.
Perhaps this was an offshoot of my childhood wounds of growing up in a poor family, where daily bread meant daily (mom and dad had to find ways and means to provide for us from the time they woke up), when we had to move houses frequently, unable to sustain the rent, when debt abounded and financial struggles were the norm.
When I was 17 years old, I had the opportunity to work, earning a living meant independence, freedom of choice, comfort, pleasures, travel, a home, a car, education, a chance to bless others – family, friends, strangers, community and more.
In my work roles, there were other benefits too – creativity, autonomy, authority, recognition, acceptance, social connection, performance and opportunity to design and prove one’s purpose. Working was indeed a great sensation and a source of fulfilment.
The only challenge is when we equate our worth and value with work alone, and when it goes or disappears, or is taken from us, we start feeling useless.
I struggled with this for about 4 months, when I had to move from Melbourne after 41 years, to Queensland, and accepted the “ripe” time of retirement at 68 (ready for Centrelink pension as they say!)
There were many “empty” moments – what shall I do with so much time now? I have no young grandchildren to assist in child-rearing. We live in a townhouse, where there is barely any garden to tend. Our household is “minimalist”, which means there is not much furniture to dust. My son-in-law, being the best cook, spares us from the kitchen chores.
It is like my whole world has been emptied! The emptying even extended to my bodily functions. Suddenly, I had issues with my bladder and kidneys. What a spiritual purification indeed!
But where I am now, I am so glad not to be “rudely” awakened by an alarm clock, or drag myself to work on a very cold morning, with gloves, boots, scarf, umbrella, rugged up for the day and the night, the rush hour for home time to cook or shop, or attend a meeting. I am relieved not to have too many work emails, demands, requests, performance reviews, calling in sick and making excuses for being tired, pleasing bosses and work colleagues, not that I had many of them who gave me “grief”.
My days and nights now have been replaced by quiet times of prayer, Bible study, reflection, morning and afternoon walks, cappuccino with husband at the local café, shopping for dinner at IGA, writing a book, meaningful social connections, bird watching, taking photos of the amazing flora around – so very different from the hectic 51 years of active work life.
I am reminded that as a good Christian, I should never retire from serving Christ. However, I have not announced myself loudly as a volunteer to the local parish, although they have been calling for more workers in the vineyard.
I want to enjoy these times as restoration, rest and reclaiming what I lost from myself, whatever that is. I realise prayer is the best ministry I can offer, that is, meaningful prayer for those who ask for it – not the one that says, “yes, I will pray for you”, but because I really have no time, forget about it the next minute.
Indeed, my vocation has changed. The wonderful ministry I loved as a paid pastoral care practitioner would not be offered again. But I can continue to serve God in the ways He shows me every day. There is a shift in responsibility, role and purpose, and mission.
I am still a steward in God’s kingdom. I can waste this precious time with bitterness, guilt, sadness, loss, withdrawal, double-mindedness and regret. But I choose not to…
I am praying that I can uphold St Paul’s admonition:
“ I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through Christ who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:11-13