I am not physically where I need to be and have still not had my follow-up appointment. Despite where I am with this aging body, I have started to make plans for February. My calendar is beginning to resemble one day a week of normalcy. I’m sliding into familiar.
After undergoing surgery, I decided not to set a morning alarm, and this could be the first time in my life. I wake up and hover over the coffee maker while clearing my head. It’s usually still dark outdoors, but if the sun has risen and the conditions allow, my first cup is usually while admiring the view of water running through the rocks of our wet-weather creek.
At this point in my recovery, I write best when seated in the cushioned chair at the end of the table in our breakfast room. Although it is not my favorite spot, it works temporarily. I might need a new office chair.
My husband and I have been discussing his newfound free time and the fun things we can do with our family. This is how we picture our retirement years to look. We are contented with the simple things of life: spending time at our cabin in Van Buren County, using our Silver Dollar City season passes, exploring tucked-away Arkansas gems, and serving God and his people whenever possible.
We want to be remembered as “being present.” We desire that our grandchildren remember our faces from school programs, ballgames, activities, and sleepovers, as these are the things we have missed out on in recent years. We want to make memories with them and attend their birthday parties.
Retirement means my husband will take some time to slow down. It primarily means keeping up with what I’ve been doing but being mindful of his thoughts and plans so I can join him in them. And when I go a little slower, I will remind myself that although I need not set an alarm, my mission has not changed.
An Everyday Theologian 