"Dear Pensioner..."

Last week, I received a letter addressed to “Dear Pensioner.” I first heard the word “pensioner” as a preschooler. From the context, I deduced that it meant “old man who hangs out at the curling rink gossiping and smoking cigarettes.”

Now I am a pensioner and falling short of my own definition. Thankfully.

I’ve been retired from my job at city hall for three months, long enough for the notion to have sunk in. I’m not merely on vacation and due back at my desk any day.

I can’t leave home without hearing the question at least once: “So, how’s retirement?”

Here are three things which have surprised me.

#1.  Although I knew it would be a challenge, it’s been harder than I thought to stick to my self-imposed writing schedule. I told myself I’d commit my previous work hours to writing and guard the time religiously. Those hours have a way of filling with other pressing matters—like appointments which are simply easier to schedule for the morning hours, occasional breakfasts with fellow retirees, or glorious summer sunshine on my deck.

But guess what? When I do manage to succeed at focusing on writing during that time, four or five hours pass in what feels like thirty minutes. That’s great, because it means I’m “in the zone,” doing what I love to do. (Of course, it also puts me in a weird time-warp for the rest of the day, but I’ll adapt.)

What do you do that makes time fly by? Pay attention to it, because it’s a good clue as to where your passion lies.

#2. I feel humbled by how quickly my old day job disappeared from my head. I expected to be checking the city’s website for council agendas and minutes or answering calls and emails from staff asking for my help. Surely they would feel lost without me. Right?

They haven’t called once. And that’s good, because I’d be useless. It’s as though someone erased all the work-related information from my hard drive.

I’m thankful I see some of my former co-workers at our weekly Toastmasters club, but as for missing my desk or my tasks like I thought I might? Not one bit. This tells me it was time. It also tells me our all-important careers are not nearly as significant as we sometimes think they are.

My advice? Don’t mistake your job for your life.

#3. I’m surprised to find I don’t mind puttering in the yard as much as I used to. To say “I enjoy gardening” still feels like a stretch, but what used to be an annoying chore to rush through is becoming a much more relaxed, zen-like tending of greenery and harvesting of fresh things to eat.

What tasks might you enjoy if you didn’t feel you had to hurry through them? What might happen if you decided to go ahead and enjoy them anyway?

The best part of retirement so far has been discovering a new level of contentment in every present moment. Instead of counting the days until the weekend or the next holiday, it’s easier to awake each morning anticipating a great day TODAY, regardless what day of the week it might be.

I love it. Try it if you can.

Explaining Social Media to My 15-Year-Old Self

My one- and three-year-old grandsons in Calgary don’t question how their grandmother can appear on their mom’s cell phone screen and talk to them from far away. Why would they? As I watch them so naturally engage with technology, I imagine describing it for the kids of the 1960s and 70s. The following script springs to mind as I try to explain social media to my 15-year-old self. Since my initials back then were “T.O.”, I’ll call my young self TO and my current self TT.

TO: So, tell me what the year 2019 is like, when we turn sixty. Are we even still alive?

TT: We are! 

TO: Is it like the Jetsons? Does our car fly?

TT: No.

TO: It folds into a little suitcase, though, right?

TT: Um, no. Although those little smart cars are getting closer. They’re just not that smart yet.

TO: Bummer. Do we go from room to room on people movers?

TT: Not unless we’re at the airport.

TO: Do we have a robot maid? Is her name Rosie?

TT: No, we have a human maid. Her name is Terrie.

TO: Do kids watch TV on their wrist watches?

TT: Well…they can. Hardly anyone wears a watch anymore, though. If they do, it does a lot more than tell time. Most people just use their phones.

TO: What do you mean, their phones?

TT: Our phones have little screens on them, so…

TO: Oh, the Jetsons have that! Like a TV?

TT: Well, not like any TV you know. More like a computer.

TO: A computer? Computers don’t have screens. And they weigh a ton.

TT: Not anymore. You can carry them around in your pocket now, and nearly everyone does. 

TO: You must need an awfully long cord!

TT: No. They’re wireless.

TO: Wireless? You mean like a transistor radio?

TT: Sort of, yes. And they do it all…make phone calls, tell the time, the weather, send text, take pictures—

TO: Yeah, right.

TT: No, really. You can look up stuff on the internet—

TO: What’s an internet?

TT: Oh, gosh. Let me think. It’s like…an encyclopedia…with everything you ever wanted to know and more. Except you can simply say, “Alexa,” and ask your question, and it will answer you. Or you can ask Alexa to play a certain song or tell you a joke or give you the square root of 104,691. Or you can simply say “call Carl” and next thing you know, you’re talking to Carl.

TO: Far out.

TT: And you can use it to post stuff on social media. 

TO: What is social media?

TT: Oh, that’s how you connect with people to share stuff about your life…news, photos, recipes, opinions, links to other things on the internet. People get into big arguments on social media. Even with people they’ve never met.

TO: Sounds like a time waster. I don’t understand how the stuff you “post” gets from your computer to someone else’s.

TT: It’s like email.

TO: What’s email?

TT: Oh my goodness. We are a dinosaur, aren’t we? It’s like regular mail, but instantaneous. And without paper. I type it in, hit “send” and it displays on someone else’s screen.

TO: So I guess our typing skills aren’t completely useless.

TT: Not at all. I’ve used them to write books, columns, and more. Speaking of books, we can read those on our phones, too.

TO: Get out.

TT: No, really. You can carry hundreds of books around in your pocket.

TO: Even big ones? Like a Bible?

TT: Yes, even Bibles. In several different versions.

TO: No way. So do you use your phone to talk to God, too?

TT: Um…no. We still talk to God the same old-fashioned way. Directly. Instantaneously. Any time, day or night. No wires needed. Just pray.

TO: But that’s how I do it now.

TT: Right. It’s still the same.

TO: So I guess God is ahead of his time.

TT: You could say that. He hasn’t changed. Though you have changed a thousand times, He has not changed once.

TO: I think I’m a little relieved. 

TT: I think I am too. Anything else you want to know?

TO: I imagine you’ve done away with bad hair days, moodiness, and all-around general selfishness by now, right?

TT: Sigh.

A Little Good News Today

Sladen Peltier as Saul Indian Horse

Last month, Hubby and I attended a screening of the movie Indian Horse, based on the award-winning novel of the same name by the late Ojibway writer, Richard Wagamese.

In 1950’s Ontario, eight-year-old Saul Indian Horse is torn from his Ojibway family and placed in a religious residential school. In this oppressive environment, Saul is denied the freedom to speak his language or embrace his Indigenous heritage while he witnesses horrendous abuse at the hands of the people entrusted with his care. He is shown a depiction of Jesus Christ so far from the biblical account, it broke my heart.

Though Saul’s story is fictional, his experiences mirror those reported by thousands of children taken from their families during this sad and shameful period of our history. I desperately wanted the movie to be an exaggeration. I wanted to cling to the belief that the one admirable character in the story was truly good. When that hope was dashed, I found myself audibly whispering, “NO! No, no, no, no. Please! Tell me it wasn’t that bad.”

But it was. All my prayers cannot erase the past.

Though the story ends with some measure of hope and a tribute to the indomitable spirit of aboriginal people, it is sobering. It’s a story that sits with you a long time, one that every Canadian should see. We drove home in silence.

Three weeks later, I attended the spring concert at Westpark School. This Christian school has reached its objective of accurately reflecting our community by having a student body that is one-third First Nations. The students presented a delightful variety of songs, walking us through God’s creation of the world, the story of redemption, restoration, and revival.

The grand finale was a Dakota song of encouragement sung by adult drummers from Dakota Tipi and accompanied by Indigenous dancing by the students, some in full regalia, girls in jingle dresses, others with simple hoops. The song segued perfectly into another called Revival with the entire exuberant choir joining in.

This time, the tears streaming down my face were tears of hope and gratitude. This event begged the questions: What might Canada look like today if those missionaries had taken the same approach? If they had taught children they can choose to follow Jesus Christ without sacrificing their culture? That God hears their prayers and their praises in any language? That they are loved unconditionally and valued beyond measure, as human beings with histories and hopes and dreams and a future? That God is every color and no color at all.

I can think of no better prayer for our nation than the lyrics those children sang to close their concert:

The world is a desert, dry and thirsty
Your love is the answer, full of mercy
Give us your eyes to see the hurting
Bring us back to life
Revival, Hearts on fire
Holy Spirit rain down
Change us from the inside…
Shine your light
Bring healing to the blind
You break the chains
Let your glory fill the sky…*

This cry for revival is perfect for Canada Day. For only when God changes us from the inside will the differences on the outside become nothing but glorious diversities to celebrate and enjoy for all eternity. Thank you, children, for restoring my hope for future generations of Canadians and for bringing God’s kingdom to earth.

“After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne … crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!’” (Revelation 7:9 & 10)

*Songwriters: Joshua David Silverberg / Julian Gamba / Kipp Williams / Lindsey Sweat / Lorena Castellanos

Click here for a video of the finale song on Facebook.