Notes from a retired pastor: musing from the cruising

Notes from a retired pastor: musing from the cruising October 3, 2016

Venice, the Grand Canal
Venice, the Grand Canal

My life has not turned out in any way that I expected when I decided to take early retirement. I had sensed strongly (and with significant pain for a lot of reasons) that God’s call upon my life had shifted its emphasis. I’ve always known there was a dual call: both to the pastorate and to the writing life. The time had come to concentrate on that writing life.

I’ve always known there was a dual call: both to the pastorate and to the writing life. The time had come to concentrate on that writing life.

I envisioned a life of what I called “genteel poverty,” settling in downtown Denton, writing most of the day, taking walks, finding areas of ministry and volunteer work in the community I had so come to both love and respect. I would travel, but it would be on the cheap, knowing my sons would purchase airlines tickets if I could not and with the ability to travel light, “couch surf” when gracious friends would offer a space, and resume the more academic life of reading, studying, putting thoughts into some coherent words on a page.

I would travel, but it would be on the cheap, knowing my sons would purchase airlines tickets if I could not. I have the ability to travel light, and was willing to “couch surf” when gracious friends would offer a space. I also anticipated the more academic life of reading, studying, putting thoughts into some coherent words on a page.

Today, not quite three years since my formal retirement, I find myself in Venice, Italy, ensconced in a lovely and luxurious cabin of a cruise ship that we can tell already will deliver on all its promises as a first class experience for everyone on board. My husband and I have completely unpacked, astounded at ample storage space, a fully equipped bathroom, comfortable outside deck, and spacious sitting area along with a king size bed. We are sipping the champagne waiting for us when we entered it.

In a couple of hours, the ship will disembark, giving us one last look at Venice. Yesterday, we wandered the among the back streets and major plazas of this fascinating city.  Then we spent the night in a spectacular hotel resort on its own island. As we cruise, we will take daily walking tours

As we cruise, we will take daily walking tours among the various historical ports in Croatia, Greece, Sicily and Italy.

We’ll walk in the “paths of the godfathers,” dine at a castle on some private island, see Pompeii and many other things. We will then stay four days in Rome, a time that will include an early, private tour of the Vatican and St. Peters Basilica. Then onto London for a few days to see my son and his family and finally home.

Yeah, not quite what I expected.

This morning, as I sat in the hotel lobby with some of our fellow passengers, I took time to observe some. Some are clearly significantly rich. I am not sure what sets them apart, but it is obvious they are different. I think maybe it is the facelifts that most of the women have undergone. That subtle difference . . . you can just tell.

I’ve taken only one other cruise, our delayed honeymoon cruise in January to the Caribbean. It was lovely and we had opted for the concierge level, a ranking that gave us access to 24/7 butler service, a pool reserved just for the select few and reserved dining at the high-end restaurants. Yes, it was nice–and with a huge suite, larger than this.

But this is different. I admit my insecurities are showing.

The people on this boat are much, much more slender overall than on the other one. Much less avoirdupois indeed. They appear to be much older. Not a single child. Definitely not a child-friendly place. Most everyone is coupled, all male-female. However, we were joined at lunch by a lovely widow from Australia. She is traveling alone–still grieving her husband’s death but determined to see the things they had planned to see. This is her third back-to-back cruise on the same line–seeing something different each time. She is definitely the anomaly.

 

We’ll be dressing for dinner here. No jeans, shorts, flip-flops or t-shirts permitted. All casual dressy except for one or two more formal nights. There were so many hangers waiting for us in the large walk-in closet that I now assume I didn’t bring enough clothes. Oh dear. Except, being a minimalist where clothes are concerned, I pretty well packed my whole wardrobe.

Yeah, I am starting to feel a bit like the proverbial fish out of water.

One of my hopes upon leaving the US revolved around getting away from politics, which are nearly driving me crazy. On the one-hour water bus ride from the Venice airport to the hotel , it was impossible to avoid hearing the conversation behind me–a group of people disliking Donald and knowing he needs a tight leash on him but staunchly Republican and voting for him anyway because they can’t abide Hillary. Sigh.

I packed my pocket Book of Worship. I may be retired, but there is something about being a clergyperson . . . something I am unwilling to leave behind. As I pulled it out of my backpack, I wondered how many people on this ship give much thought to God, to eternal things.

I suspect most of them are generally “good people.” I presume I am as well. But I’ve long believed and taught that there is indeed something far more to “refined” human goodness.

But enough for now. We just finished the thorough and mandatory lifeboat drill (they took attendance) and then we shall set sail shortly.

As I said, my life is different. So very different. I stand now outside the fishbowl of the church, the pastorate, the world I loved and still do love. I have a place here, but am still sorting out what it is.


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