What are you going to do?
18/07/23 02:50
“What are you going to do when you retire?” It is a question that several people have asked me over the past few weeks. Like some other things in my life, retirement has not come to me as a single event with a single date. We retired at the end of June, 2020. Our call as pastors and teachers at First Congregational United Church of Christ in Rapid City, South Dakota, came to an end. Back then, when people asked “What are you going to do?” I usually answered with our plans to sell our Rapid City home and move to Washington, where our son lives. At the time, I didn’t anticipate that our son would move from one town in Washington to another. I didn’t even know, before we retired, exactly where we would live, but moving from one state to another supplied a sufficient answer to the question.
We did move. Our plan to rent a place to live while we shopped for our home seemed to be working out. After a struggle we found a house to rent. Rent was higher than we anticipated, but we had an excellent landlord whose rental home was in a very nice neighborhood. After focusing our energies on sorting our possessions and moving, we settled in - sort of. I worked at scanning and organizing slides that we had collected over a lot of years. I made model airplanes for our grandson. We went on walks.
Then the opportunity came for us to go back to work for a couple of years. I was eager to seize that opportunity. When our lease on the rental home came to an end, we extended it for one month and found a home to buy. It was not where we thought we would end up when we imagined retirement from our Rapid City perspective. This time we moved while we were working at the new job.
The two years have passed quickly. In two weeks we will conclude this call to ministry. And now the questions are coming once again. “What are you going to do?” I’m no better at answering that question now than I was three years ago. I usually say something about the unfinished boat project in our son’s barn, a bit of travel that we have deferred while working, a dream of a large, multi-week trip, or the joy of playing with our grandchildren.
The reality is that there are a lot of things that I will do when we are fully retired. One of those things, that I don’t mention, is keep my eyes open for new possibilities to return to work. Perhaps there is a small congregation that needs a part-time pastor. Ministers will take sabbatical and we might cover for them while they travel and learn. I’m fairly confident that something will turn up, but I have no intention of looking very hard until after we have concluded this call. I’m having too much fun working at this job.
When I pause to think, however, I know that the question is the wrong one for me. I’m not worried about what I will do. There are way more things to do than the number of years that I have left in my life. There are poems to write, places to visit, people to invite to dinner, new skills to learn, repairs to be made. I will still make “to do” lists on pads of yellow paper. I’ll still get up in the morning with a sense of purpose and tasks to accomplish. The real question, when I am honest with myself, is “Who will I be when I retire?”
Ever since I received my first call to provide pulpit supply in a rural Montana congregation during my last year of undergraduate education, my work has not just been a way to earn income. My job has been my identity. I am a minister. I am a preacher. The second one, however, is already somehow less true than it once was. I have preached only one sermon since the end of June, 2020. I am not the preacher in this congregation. I have been a teacher. I’m the one who tells the children’s story in worship. I’m the one who writes prayers for small groups that meed regularly. I’m the teacher of bible studies. I’m the planner of day camp for children. I’m the one who says, “Yes, I can do that!” at meetings. But I’m running out of meetings. I’ve already attended my last meeting of the Faith Formation Board. I’ve got a couple of staff meetings and an exit interview left. I’ll offer the prayer at a couple of small groups.
In the United Church of Christ ministerial status does not end when a call ends. I will still be an ordained minister. I will still have official standing in the denomination. I will still need to take regular boundary training. I will still be able to officiate at weddings and funerals and serve communion. That is if someone asks me to do those things. And there are limits to when I might say yes. Professional ethics specify that I will not perform pastoral functions in the communities where my ministry has ended.
I already wonder if I am still able to preach a sermon every week, or if any congregation will be interested in asking me to do so. I don’t think of it in terms of what I will do, but in terms of who I am. I’m having trouble answering the question, “What do you do?” with the words, “I am retired.”
I have wonderful mentors and models when it comes to retirement. I have dear friends who have shown me how meaningful volunteer service is. I have witnessed the joy that comes with the end of the expectation of daily work at a job for income. There is no need for me to complain. The Pension Boards of the United Church of Christ will continue to deposit funds in my bank account every month. I’ll still receive a payment from the Social Security Administration. I’ll have money for groceries and upkeep on our house. I’ll have funds to travel and indulge in an occasional splurge. I am very fortunate.
I’m just not sure who I will be.
To start with, I’ll focus on the things that are not ending. I’ll still be husband. I’ll still be father. I’ll still be grandpa. I know how to be those things and they are very good things to be.
I think that the next time someone asks, “What are you going to do when you retire?” I might answer, “The first thing I’m going to do is to figure out what I will do.” Then again, I should be more honest and say, “I’m going to figure out who I will be.”
We did move. Our plan to rent a place to live while we shopped for our home seemed to be working out. After a struggle we found a house to rent. Rent was higher than we anticipated, but we had an excellent landlord whose rental home was in a very nice neighborhood. After focusing our energies on sorting our possessions and moving, we settled in - sort of. I worked at scanning and organizing slides that we had collected over a lot of years. I made model airplanes for our grandson. We went on walks.
Then the opportunity came for us to go back to work for a couple of years. I was eager to seize that opportunity. When our lease on the rental home came to an end, we extended it for one month and found a home to buy. It was not where we thought we would end up when we imagined retirement from our Rapid City perspective. This time we moved while we were working at the new job.
The two years have passed quickly. In two weeks we will conclude this call to ministry. And now the questions are coming once again. “What are you going to do?” I’m no better at answering that question now than I was three years ago. I usually say something about the unfinished boat project in our son’s barn, a bit of travel that we have deferred while working, a dream of a large, multi-week trip, or the joy of playing with our grandchildren.
The reality is that there are a lot of things that I will do when we are fully retired. One of those things, that I don’t mention, is keep my eyes open for new possibilities to return to work. Perhaps there is a small congregation that needs a part-time pastor. Ministers will take sabbatical and we might cover for them while they travel and learn. I’m fairly confident that something will turn up, but I have no intention of looking very hard until after we have concluded this call. I’m having too much fun working at this job.
When I pause to think, however, I know that the question is the wrong one for me. I’m not worried about what I will do. There are way more things to do than the number of years that I have left in my life. There are poems to write, places to visit, people to invite to dinner, new skills to learn, repairs to be made. I will still make “to do” lists on pads of yellow paper. I’ll still get up in the morning with a sense of purpose and tasks to accomplish. The real question, when I am honest with myself, is “Who will I be when I retire?”
Ever since I received my first call to provide pulpit supply in a rural Montana congregation during my last year of undergraduate education, my work has not just been a way to earn income. My job has been my identity. I am a minister. I am a preacher. The second one, however, is already somehow less true than it once was. I have preached only one sermon since the end of June, 2020. I am not the preacher in this congregation. I have been a teacher. I’m the one who tells the children’s story in worship. I’m the one who writes prayers for small groups that meed regularly. I’m the teacher of bible studies. I’m the planner of day camp for children. I’m the one who says, “Yes, I can do that!” at meetings. But I’m running out of meetings. I’ve already attended my last meeting of the Faith Formation Board. I’ve got a couple of staff meetings and an exit interview left. I’ll offer the prayer at a couple of small groups.
In the United Church of Christ ministerial status does not end when a call ends. I will still be an ordained minister. I will still have official standing in the denomination. I will still need to take regular boundary training. I will still be able to officiate at weddings and funerals and serve communion. That is if someone asks me to do those things. And there are limits to when I might say yes. Professional ethics specify that I will not perform pastoral functions in the communities where my ministry has ended.
I already wonder if I am still able to preach a sermon every week, or if any congregation will be interested in asking me to do so. I don’t think of it in terms of what I will do, but in terms of who I am. I’m having trouble answering the question, “What do you do?” with the words, “I am retired.”
I have wonderful mentors and models when it comes to retirement. I have dear friends who have shown me how meaningful volunteer service is. I have witnessed the joy that comes with the end of the expectation of daily work at a job for income. There is no need for me to complain. The Pension Boards of the United Church of Christ will continue to deposit funds in my bank account every month. I’ll still receive a payment from the Social Security Administration. I’ll have money for groceries and upkeep on our house. I’ll have funds to travel and indulge in an occasional splurge. I am very fortunate.
I’m just not sure who I will be.
To start with, I’ll focus on the things that are not ending. I’ll still be husband. I’ll still be father. I’ll still be grandpa. I know how to be those things and they are very good things to be.
I think that the next time someone asks, “What are you going to do when you retire?” I might answer, “The first thing I’m going to do is to figure out what I will do.” Then again, I should be more honest and say, “I’m going to figure out who I will be.”
