Trust me;

I know I’m not the first person who ever planned to retire  

precipitously. 

(Can you tell how controlled my life is when I think 10 months ‘notice’ is precipitous?) 

I’m a ‘boomer’ -

there are literally millions of us 

facing this issue every year…

but knowing that 

doesn’t necessarily translate 

to being comfortable with it 

or thinking it’s a good idea – 

for me!

(Remember, 
our mothers practically invented 
the reality check phrase – 

“If all your friends were jumping
 off the roof, 
does that mean
YOU should do it!?”)

The minute I decided on a retirement date 

(March 15th, 2014) 

and said it out loud, 

it was so frightening 

that I wanted to walk it back 

immediately …

I was still on a vacation ‘high’; 

it was jet lag; 

it was an exaggerated period of 
post vacation return to work syndrome.

After all, I’d heard God – 
clearly I was delusional. 

Do these voices happen to everyone who decides to retire - 

or only us crackpots who do it in response to what God is telling us? 

Even though I KNOW in my heart of hearts – 

and even further south, 

in my gut – 

that it's the right decision, 

a whole litany of disparaging voices 

started clamoring in my head. 

It’s a terrible mistake; 

you don’t have enough   any money saved; 

you’ll be the old lady, sitting in the cold house, 

who has to eat dry cat food 

because she’s so poor;

what if your ‘plans’ don’t work out – 

your ‘plans’ have gone awry before, you know - 

what if you tell everyone 

and then, 

for some reason, 

you renege on Gods plan 

and change our mind, 

you'll look really foolish …

well, you get the point.

At the peak of the internal clamor

a friend walked in my door, 

carrying an unexpected gift -

a bookmark she saw
on a recent trip to New Orleans 

that made her think of me.

Clearly it was our shared vocation

and not shared high cheekbones

or decolletage

that brought the resemblance to mind!

I  have been a Social Worker

since 1971 - 

and I've never heard of this Saint Louise chick!

She's done such a great job 

of "maintaining her boundaries"
(always a big deal with us)

that she's been virtually invisible.

Flipping the card over to read more about her,

I was particularly struck by the last sentence!

Funny, the voices have gone back into hiding - 

at least for now!

Here's what I know:

* I'm being called away from the life I've known for over 30 years.

* As much as I've loved my job and believe I do it well, 

the conviction that this part of my life is over 

has only grown stronger
since returning from Scotland.

* I will be retiring early next year.
and not the five years from now I had initially planned.

Here's what I don't know:

* what I'll do next.

* Who I'll be without the adrenalin rush of the ER.

* How I'll ever find the strength to walk away.

* How I'll support myself.

Believing in the messenger and the message 

doesn't mean the receiver got it right - 

OK, here's a few more things I know:

* this is the scariest thing I've ever done.

* hearing Gods voice,
trusting it 

and 

acting on it

are very different things.

* my ideal 'next life' career would be 

working in a floral shop on Iona.

* sadly, there isn't one!

* I'm praying like mad
that there's a Plan B!

Art and Iona

Because of the incredible light,

color

and natural typography 

of Iona, 

it has long attracted

artists

of all persuasions...

Two, very different, pieces of art 

came home with me

as souvenirs of a life changing trip.

The one above
of the North End Beach
where I spent so much time
was created by

Gordon Menzies

The one below, by artist, 

Lynne Kerr.

is watercolor on hand crafted paper, 

using silk strands

and, in this case, sheep's wool,

to create a lovely piece,

evocative of the sea

and the coasts

of the Scottish isles.

Wordsmiths also find rich ground

for inspiration

and the poems of

Kenneth Steven became new favorites.

Resolution

And suddenly the sun broke through the sky

And I was home, a broad Atlantic

Stumbled over rocks and creamed in rage

A tug of storm hung low across the shores

Water color blue and broken green.

How did I lose my way or once believe

That there were riches bigger than this simplicity

Or that any other tide could speak, or heal

The wounds of searching deeper cut than pain

Where here I stood by heaven hearing God?

Love, love, love it!

And the one below so perfectly sums up my experience

I feel the poet was living inside my head...

poor Kenneth!

Is this place really closer to God?

Is the wall thin between our whispers

And His listening? I only know

The world grows less and less -

Here what matters is conquering the wind,

coming home dryshod, getting the fire lit.

I am not sure whether there is no time here

Or more time, whether the light is stronger

Or just easier to see. That is why

I will keep returning to this place

That is older than my understanding,

Younger than my broken spirit.

Sometimes

in

all

the

rush

and

hurry

of

our

lives

we

need

so

much

just 

now

and

then

to 

find

an

                                                                         island.

Friends,

I've been lucky enough to have several islands in my life -

and all of them have helped shape me,

by defining who I am

and how I want to live.

But none of them 

more than Iona.

I'm making plans to use the insights,

dreams

and peace

I found there 

to shape the rest of my life.

I'm excited

and terrified - 

not necessarily 

in that order

and certainly

not in equal measure. 

All shall be well...

(Note to self

repeat daily, 

as needed!)

Weekend prayer

May your weekend be filled with small, sacred moments of awareness.

May you set aside your hurry, 

your pulling, 

your wishing for different.

May you linger over meals and take walks with slow steps.

May you hold books with pages, mugs with steam,

and hands who know your secrets.

Set down comparison,

 regret, 

revenge 

and all of your 

defensive explanations.

Settle in, right where you are, 

refusing to wish for something different.

Enjoy your weekend, friends.

Emily Freeman

I'll be with family, not wanting to be anywhere else...
at least, not yet.
Everything in due time.

Tell it, Wendell Berry

"It may be that when we no longer know what to do

we have come to our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go

we have come to our real journey.

What a perfect quote for a time that feels
very much up in the air.

Taking the weekend off to head North,
get grounded,
see family
and attend a baby shower!

Be back in a few days.

Just for the record

I didn’t go to Iona to ‘resolve’ anything.

There were no burning life questions to settle; 

no choices to be made; 

no relationship drama 

which needed space 

for thought 

that only 3000 miles 

from the source can provide. 

According to my ‘plan’,  

I didn’t have a major transitional point in my life 

coming up
for at least 5 years ~~

the time frame I’d given myself,

tentatively, 

to consider retirement 

and a reshuffling of 

who I am 

and how I’ll be living my life. 

Iona was merely was a chance 

to see gorgeous scenery, 

to relax after a few tough years, 

to be with friends, 

old and new, 

and an opportunity to use my camera 

outside the radius of my immediate 

everyday life –

and, in truth, 

it was all of those things.

It’s funny though. 

When you give yourself the gift of time and silence,

if you're lucky, 

you might actually hear what your soul, 

or God, 

is saying to you.

You may even get an answer to a question you didn’t know your heart was asking.

As I’ve already said, 

on Iona, 

I was reading, 

walking, 

laughing, 

crying, 

being silent, 

eating and sleeping well 

and doing more ‘self care’ 

than I had in years. 

In other words – just being – in the very best sense of the word. 

But in moments of silence, 

when it was just me and God, 

I also heard – 

and felt in ways I couldn’t ignore – 

the call to change my life…

not in 5 years, 

but now. 

What feels like 'truth' is that my job is killing me. 

I don’t just mean the physical price I’ve paid 

which I've accepted as ‘normal’ ~ 

high blood pressure, 

high cholesterol, 

poor eating and sleeping patterns, 

the constant adrenaline of ‘fight or flight’ situations 

that take hours to diminish after a shift ends ~ 

all the documented consequences that come from being on the front lines 

of child protection 

in an urban setting 

for more than 3 decades. 

I mean the toll it’s taken on my soul ~ 

what happens to the core of a person 

who continually absorbs

secondary pain 

and perversion 

on a daily basis. 

For years, 

I’ve taken pride in being able to rise above it; 

forcing myself to stay positive, 

seeking beauty in small things, 

focusing on the goodness of the people I work with 

who are in the trenches with me.

And
I don’t mean to minimize the power
of that approach 

or deny that it's worked ~
to an extent ~

that it's allowed me to keep going. 

But denying that damage is being done 

by focusing
on the pieces of ‘wholeness’
that remain

doesn’t mean that damage 

isn’t being done. 

With blinding clarity,
on Iona, 

I was allowed to see that I don’t live a normal life.

It’s not normal
to take 4-6 OTC pain killers a day to get through a shift.

It’s not normal
to need chemicals - either sugar, caffeine 

or the whole gamut of carcinogens in Diet Soda – 

to get through a day.

It’s not normal
being unable to see the world 

without pathological,
diagnostic,
 glasses on.

It's not normal
not to be shocked
at the depravity and cruelty
found in news articles
about salacious crimes;
my mind able to fill in all the details
they don't mention,
because I've had first hand experience
with cases just like it. 

The reality is
there’s another way to live.

I know because I got a glimpse of it. 

And I want more.

I can’t continue to live 

the way I’ve been living. 

It doesn’t feel like I’m burnt out. 

It feels like I’m done.

And that feels very different.

And the 'mountaintop experience'

I had on Iona 

of hearing God say,

“Well done, good and faithful servant, 

but you don’t have to keep flogging yourself 

anymore 

while destroying your health 

and your soul, 

no matter how noble the cause”

is a message I can’t ignore.

A message I won’t ignore. 

The terrifying thing is I have no idea what comes next …

but you can be sure 

I’m going to be figuring it out. 

I wasn't looking for an answer – 

certainly not this one -

but since I trust the source who provided it, 

I’ll trust a way will be provided as well. 

 Stay tuned…

Don't be fooled

I'll end my mini- tour of Iona, for now, 

with the very first pictures I took in Scotland...

little did I know
what they would come
to symbolize 

for me.

An old ship in Inveraray, rusted, 

looking to be either out of commission

or nearing the end of it's useful life.

But the name - a reminder!

It's not the outside of things that count...

it's the Vital Spark inside.

And I'm not counting her out quite yet!

There are even rumors 'afloat'
(yes, pun intended)
that she used to be a party girl...

she may not look it,
but I'm betting
she has some life
left in her!

Bits and pieces - from the Iona collection.

No explanation or history lesson needed...

Poetry For Supper

They left no books,

Memorials to their lonely thoughts

In grey parishes; rather they wrote

On mens minds and in the minds

of young children sublime words

Too soon forgotten. God in his time

Or out of time will correct this.

R.S.Thomas


We know, they actually DID leave books behind,
richly illustrated manuscripts
proclaiming the word of God.

But of their lives we know very little;
not even their names.
The stones (above) are believed to mark the resting place
of an unknown monk,
interred under the Abbey floor.
The stones representing his years of service.

There are worse ways to be remembered.

How blessed I was to have the chance to see this holy place
on my journey;
to capture these images
and encounter God
on this lovely island -
so like 'home'
yet so 'otherworldy'
all at the same time. 

My heart might melt!

For most of my sons lives, it's been just the 3 of us.

That wasn't 'the plan',

but that was the reality.

 As tough as certain days were 

(ok, weeks and months too),

I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

How wonderful to have sons 

who think I was a "Super Mom' 

 and one who wrote in his card -

"I think I know where my obsession 

with super heros came from - 

being raised by you.

I had to find out how you were able to do it all!

Still don't know if it was a radioactive spider bite, 

gamma rays, mutation, 

cosmic rays 

or if you're an alien.

But you'll always be 'Super"

to me!"

Dontcha love it!?

The Machair, sheep and a sighting

'Machair' is a Gaelic term meaning 'raised beach' 

and its habitat is fairly unique to the Western Isles. 

The extremely fertile grassland 

is due in part to the seashell content of the sand 

which gets blown up onto the land, 

neutralizing the acidity of the soil.

The Machair in Iona 

has been cultivated since Columban times 

and is shared common grazing land 

on the West end of the island.

It even hosts an annual golfing tournament - the Iona Open - 

which is held in August.

Not that I watch those things,

 but I doubt the Golf Channel carries it.

Someone let me know if they do - 

because it would be worth watching just for the scenery!

It was also the opportunity 

to get up close and personal with sheep - 

and what would Scotland be without sheep?

One morning, BTW, I got up at 0430 to catch the sunrise 

(which didn't happen - although more rain and fog did!) 

and on my way back to the hotel, 

I saw a different flock of sheep at the North Shore.

Apparently, 

because of how sheep eyes are structured 

you don't have to worry about 'red-eye- 

as much as...

 demonic possessed eyes! 

(And I wasn't even using a 'flash').

For some reason, these cracked me up... 

I think I look exactly like this 

by the end of a 'normal' week!

Another creature that touched my heart

and had a ring of familiarity to him

 was this one -

a lamb faceplant!

Before I forget -

for you geological types - 

South of the Machair

is a phenomenon known as 

the Spouting Cave,

a fissure in the rock 

at the Bay at the Back of the Ocean.

When waves of a suitable size hit the cave,

a vertical jet of water shoots up.

and hence, it's name.

Since coming home, I've read alot about Iona;
more than I had prior to going.
Manily because I was struck
by the different topography of the island
and the many unique conditions
contained
on such a small (3.4 sq miles)
island.

A paragraph in a few of the writings interested me:
 Iona is comprised of rocks made of Lewisian Gneiss. 
These are among the oldest rocks on earth. 
2800 million years ago, 
long before any living thing had a hard-shell, 
these rocks were formed deep in the earth’s crust 
and gradually rose to the surface. 
They were overlaid about 1000 million years ago by boulders, 
then by pebbles, 
sands and mud eroded from Himalaya-high mountains in northwest Scotland.
 There are no fossils on Iona. 


As they say on the island, "its geology reflects the beginning of the world."

Far be it from me to dispute accepted science
but, during a walk along the North Shore
at low tide,
I found this
as I was wending my way through rock formations,
looking for beach glass.

It's under water, so it's a bit harder to see -
but I distinctly remember thinking
"Well, I guess I know where some of the snakes Patrick drove out of Ireland ended up!"

When I went back the next day,
 with a friend, to show her, 
the tide was in 
and I couldn't find it again.
Just my luck...
I have the equivalent sighting of the 
Loch Ness monster - 
and I can't prove it to anyone!