I used to tell people that I wasn’t very good at retirement. I wasn’t eager to retire. I enjoyed good, meaningful work and was in no rush to retire. For the first year of retirement, I focused on moving to a rental house in another state, helping our son and his family settle into their home on a small farm, and remaining healthy during the COVID-19 pandemic. When we were given the opportunity to return to work, I was eager to accept the position. I told people I had discovered I wasn’t very good at retirement. It was partly true. The adjustment to being retired was a more significant challenge than I expected. I hadn’t given retirement much thought during my working years. The congregations I served paid into my retirement account, and I allowed the Pension Board to manage those funds. I didn’t pay attention to them at all. The same was true of our IRA accounts. We worked with a broker to invest them in mutual funds.

Time has passed, and now, five years into retirement, I think I’m finally getting adjusted. I don’t think I’ll tell people I am no good at retirement anymore. Instead, I may mention that it took me a while to learn how to be retired.

As I drifted to sleep last night, I reflected on how much things have changed. Yesterday was a good example of how different my life is compared to when I worked as a pastor. After a light lunch yesterday, I took a short nap, rode my bicycle, and walked with my wife. As we walked, we discussed the menu for Easter dinner. After our walk, I made a shopping list, checked email, and caught up with a few items on my computer. We went out for an early supper before attending a short Maundy Thursday service. After the service, we drove along the coast looking at the scenery instead of taking a more direct route to our house. I had time to relax and unwind before heading to bed.

Today I’ll have time to be a math tutor for my grandson, shop for groceries, watch another grandson, and be at the farm when the girls get off the school bus so their mother can take their older brother to a doctor’s appointment. There will still be time in my day for a bike ride and a walk with my wife. It is an entirely different pace than Holy Week when I was a working pastor. I commented that half of my job was moving furniture in those days. That wasn’t accurate, but part of my Holy Week routine was setting up the next service as each ended. There was a fair amount of moving furniture involved. That physical work, however, was a welcome break from the intellectual and emotional work of planning and leading worship. I thrived on the pace of working and enjoyed most of it. There wasn’t time for bike rides or leisurely walks during Holy Week.

If I were still working, I would head to the church early for Good Friday. In the last years of our career, Good Friday services were held at noon and were contemplative services. The sanctuary would have been stripped of vestments, candles, and other items at the end of the Maundy Thursday service. The Good Friday service was a series of readings and prayers. We prepared a bulletin that could be used for personal devotion for those who couldn’t come to the church at noon. The day was usually a bit lighter duty than earlier in the week when we were preparing bulletins for all the extra services and ensuring everything was in place.

I haven’t forgotten the meaning of Holy Week. I haven’t lost the sense of using the week to practice and prepare for the seasons of grief that will come in my life. I am, however, able to release the need to be in charge. I’m not the leader at the worship services I attend. I don’t have to prepare in advance. I don’t have to be the last to leave the church when the service ends. I’m not going through the days of the week short of sleep.

Like other things in life, it takes me time to adjust. I’m still new to being retired. There are times when I am frustrated with the church's leadership. There are days when I say to myself, “I could do that better.” When those times come, I remind myself that I have had my time and that emerging new leadership requires stepping aside. I’m learning to relax and participate in worship, allowing others to lead.

I still have work to do. I serve on committees and boards. I volunteer with several organizations. I am working on my writing and meeting deadlines with my publisher. I care for colonies of honeybees and harvest and bottle honey. I help provide childcare for our grandchildren. I plan menus and cook meals. I do light maintenance around our house. I have lists of tasks I want to accomplish and stacks of books I want to read. I’m never fully caught up with yard work and chores around the house.

I still live my life and organize my devotions around the seasons of the Christian calendar. Holy Week is still important and meaningful to me. However, I have time to go out to dinner with my wife, take long bike rides, and observe the beauty of the natural world. As I go through my days, I feel more rested. I am learning a new pace of living.

I know that more changes are coming. I am blessed with good health and energy, but I will face new challenges as I age. There will always be things I miss from the days I was a pastor. There will be grief that I carry. There are people I miss. Learning to live with loss is one of the necessary skills of aging. Being retired gives me time to face the realities of aging with a bit of grace and for that I am grateful.