A new year – 1st Sep

So, it’s arrived. The start of September. Whether you are looking forward to the new Methodist Connexional year, the start of another year of ministry for many; or possibly the school year – albeit the Scottish one started a few weeks back; or, as I am, retirement : we are here.

In reality, I have been preparing for this for well over a year. Needing to discuss any potential early retirement with my church boss, aka the ‘Bishop’, we reflected upon the financial impact, the concern for my mind, body and spirit with such a decision, and the additional increased workload to the rest of the team. They wanted to find a replacement for me. Something: (1) the church finds difficult, as many do not want to travel north for the border; and (2) in my state of mind, I thought was not necessary as I was not actively contributing much to the cause.

Then came Christmas, when I would be speaking with my own leader of the religious order, as this would set in train the wheels of motion within the wider Methodist Church. Those wheels don’t move fast, so it would take some weeks for my first interview with a medic, for the subsequent report to be raised and reviewed, and then a further appraisal to confirm that I could take that early retirement due to ill health. This process would conclude in mid May. 

Then with all signs now pointing towards formal retirement, we had to bring together the parallel work, that we had initiated in the preceding October, to find a house to live in. The house we were currently residing in was a church one, one that they would need for my replacement. Things on this path looked very tight indeed, so much so that I had actually sought permission, if possible, to remain in the church house for a few weeks, if no accommodation could be found. Fortunately, a house was then found, in an area we hadn’t been really looking at. It didn’t meet many of the criteria we had originally set but it felt right for us. Our Scottish lawyer sailed us across the line in very quick time. The Church has always been generous in allowing the minister to depart well before the next minister takes up ‘residence’. They were very generous with us indeed.

It might be thought that with no work to do, no pressures being brought to bear, that life would now be easy.

The vestiges of the mental problems still remained – no amount of counselling nor medication can lift you out of that hell hole, you need to do the heavy lifting yourself.

And it continues to this day. When problems arise, in past times, I would have been able to bounce back, rise above them and move on. Not so now. These days, the problems can easily overwhelm me. They could be minor in another’s eyes, but their apparent size is often heavily magnified, causing any other potential way out to be obscured. 

So, as the morn beckons, the first of retirement, what does it feel like?

It’s as if we are casting ourselves away from the confines of the port, we are now freely sailing, feeling the winds possibly for the first time as it directs the travel of the boat. Each undulation of the waves makes the vessel move this way and that. The past control of its path was directed by the job, the level of income, and the ways of the employer. Now, you are venturing anew. Not sure as yet of where we are going, but going there with determination, the very essence of coddiwompling. Allowing each gust of wind to redirect the vessel and to then reflect on wherever it is taking us now. We notice the significant change of income but reflect that there is more to life than money and worrying about financial stability. We only have ‘3 score years and 10’ or so it is said in Psalm 90, but current estimates forecast that men live, on average to 79 years, with women living 4 years more. It is just a number.

Our lives are not dated, it is merely society yearning to journal and register each passing moment.
The memories of the past, often beguiling, can be like the slippery fronds of seaweed, wrapping themselves around the steering mechanism of our vessel, impacting upon its future course.
Our hopes are ones that we have yet to realise.

They can be the fuel which resource us but, for now, we need to remain focused ‘in the moment’. 

For when that wave strikes, the gust blows – this is Scotland, it will – we need to be ready to move with it, even if it does bring discomfort, and encounter whatever lies immediately ahead.