Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30)

You have to show me
I still don’t know me
You have to slow me down
What does it mean to
Learn how to lean on you
Though I can’t see you
I feel you come around
(Love, Love,Love,The Nields)

In this pilgrimage called retirement, what makes the path navigable? How does the meanderer find mission? How does the laborer find rest?

Barely a week into the transition to retirement I heard ” . . . I will give you rest. My yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

It began with a 500-mile trip Ypsilanti to St. Louis. Then it became two 250-mile excursions, separated by a Carrie Newcomer concert. The weather turned warm and seasonal. The trees were budding. We arrived and unpacked. Pizza and beer for dinner. The pace was slowing. We made appointments, but they spaced themselves. The e-mails demanding attention slowed down to a trickle. Mornings got later and quieter. A voice said “Slower . . . quieter.” I waited for orders.

” . . . I will give you rest. My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” This had to be a come-on. What kind of mission demands rest? How do I navigate a path without milestone markers or road signs? My heartbeat was slowing; my soul was striving. Give me a calendar, with dates and times and meetings.  “Slower,” the voice said.

It came to me in a flood of tears. The mission is rest. The mission is: slowing down. Believe it: God wanted this for you all along.  Not busy-ness. Rest. I was blown away.

For the first time in my life, walking by faith actually seemed sensible. I had no plan on Sunday, but I drove around and had lunch with a friend (who had no car), I watched the last ten minutes of playoff basketball, I walked my pooch and took a selfie of us by the lake; I texted it to my true love. I wrapped a graduation gift for a seminarian friend, I watched a movie starring Zoey Deschanel I had taped for no purpose, a movie full of irony and gallows humor. I finished the day with a warmth for my friend, for my true love, for the seminarian, and for Zoey Deschanel. It was the kind of spontaneity that used to feel sinful. Suddenly it felt fulfilling.

This morning I was accelerating across a four-lane highway from the post office, when I came bumper-to-bumper with a car going as fast in the opposite direction. The bumpers stopped at a forty-five-degree angle about a foot from each other. It was wet, with poor visibility, and I was desperate to beat the southbound traffic so I could go northbound. Another lesson about rest, but without expensive body damage to my car or me.

If learning to rest in retirement is this hard, how hard when you have a job? Did Jesus mean for me to learn this while I taught full time? Is it even possible? Maybe life should be lived backwards, starting retired and finishing by going to school.

Rest is not inactivity. It is finding the quiet place where God works, where I matter. My work is trusting God to work. A meandering mission.  I rest; God works. I bring the loaves, God feeds the multitude. I invite Jesus to dinner on my journey, Jesus blesses the meal and reveals himself.  God does the heavy lifting.

You have to show me
I still don’t know me
You have to slow me down

In the autumn of life, I am still trying to know myself and my mission. Knowing anticipates slowing, slowly learning. I have the time I need to find my mission. The yoke is easy.  Slower . . .