Time is a Greased Pig

     When my kids were little they entered the local pet scramble at Homecoming.  We were still by nature city folks and this event where a couple of dozen little kids chased terrified baby animals all over the arena was quite an introduction to country life.  We thought that was pretty exciting, but the following event tipped the excite-o-meter even more.  It involved kids trying to catch a pig that had literally been greased.  They kept flinging themselves at this squealing little butter ball, getting what seemed to be a secure hold on it, and then watching it squirt out, leaving them lying in the dirt and whatever else is on the floor of an animal arena.
     I've been officially retired for 16 days, though I keep telling people I won't feel retired until all the kids and staff go back to school in August while I'm still sleeping in, and what do I have to show for it?  My lawn is still in need of a mowing.  The landscape project isn't any further along than it was 16 days ago.  The new front window project hasn't even been started.  Yet, I have been busy.  I'm beginning to feel like time is very much like that greased pig, always squirting out of my grasp just when I think I have a good hold on it.
      It's not just retirement, either.  I can't believe I am almost 60-years-old.  How did I come to have kids who are 34- and 32-years-old?  How did time get away from me like that?  I know this is not a new question.  Just listen to any country music station for an hour and you'll hear this theme sung about several times.  But it's much more surprising when it's personal.
     I've been reading up on this whole retirement situation on other blogs.  Everyone seems to have an opinion about how to manage retirement time.  Make a daily schedule.  Don't tie yourself down to a daily schedule.  Make long-range plans.  Live day to day.  It appears I'll have to figure out how to get a good hold on that greased pig on my own.
      If I may wax philosophical for a moment, and I may since it's my blog, the whole concept of time is a little frightening to me.  It's not something that can be literally latched onto, like the fifth and one-too-many-pieces-of pizza.  It can't be seen, smelled, touched, heard or tasted.  Yet we presume to measure it with a complicated and partially random system of measurement [365 1/4 days I understand, but the rest is somewhat arbitrary, though not without reason].  Maybe I shouldn't be so surprised at my inability to control it.
     I'm pretty sure part of my problem is a lack of commitment.  My heart really isn't into time management right now, so I just do what I feel like doing all day and then lament the greased pig getting away one more time each evening.  Maybe in August I'll do something about that.
     I did do something spontaneous the other day.  I noticed that the sunset was going to have a nice glow to it, so I grabbed my camera and drove out to Jackson Valley Road, set up the tripod and snapped some pictures of an old building and some cattails.  I guess I had a hold on that pig for about 40 minutes.

Now What Do I Do?

    Like a locomotive slowly entering the switch yard, I have so many options laid before me that it is difficult to decide which track to take.  Fortunately, like the locomotive, I'm not really the one throwing the switches that move the rails that allow me to advance onto the track that has been designated just for me.  While I am not a Christian fatalist, I do believe God has an idea about which direction I should be heading when I get to the other side of the yard and that he will do what he can to convince me to chug along on the correct set of rails.  The always frightening part is that I have a free will and occasionally I decide to exercise it against his will and jump the tracks.
   I want to continue to believe I'm somewhat useful to God and to those around me.  So, I want to help out my grown children and my grandchildren in some way.  That's a pleasant option for me; helping them while enjoying the interaction.  I also will look into getting back to teaching CPR and First Aid.  I certainly have the credentials, believe in the importance of that activity and have always enjoyed the process.  It would be nice to earn a little money to support my avocations, so as soon as I am legally allowed to do so, I will make myself available to substitute teach/administrate in the local school district.
    In the midst of all these possible options I want to include fun stuff like hunting, singing/playing, writing, researching, preaching and teaching.  And I haven't even mentioned the necessary repairs and upkeep on the house and yard!  So, maybe what I've heard so often I want to choke the next person who says it is true after all, "You'll be busier in retirement than when you were working."
    That's okay.  I just want to be where I'm supposed to be, doing what I am supposed to be doing.  I saw a poster many years ago that rings true when I'm wondering if what I have planned is "spiritual" enough or if I'm frittering away God's time.  The poster showed a couple of guys playing basketball, and the caption read, "All of life can be a worship experience if one chooses to make it so."  It kind of takes off some of the pressure.