Downsizing

The moment comes to all retirees. That moment when you realize it is time to downsize. For some there is careful planning all along. For others the moment arrives with the impact of a tsunami. Life as we knew it is over. Those of us who lived our lives in furnished parsonages discover we have accumulated an unbelievable amount of flotsam and jetsam and everything seems weighted with memories and meaning. Loving churches have gifted us with large silver objects that we can no longer use and nobody wants. Our children and grandchildren live in another era when everything must be dishwasher and microwave safe.

Objects take on a life of their own, reminding us of another place, a time or event and we see these objects, not as “things” but as symbols. Symbols of who we were, what was important to us, what we valued. How can we carelessly discard them? What a joy it is when we discover someone who just might treasure them as we do. I read somewhere that Joy has one hand waving “Good-bye”. Farewell pewter cups, cherished books, childrens’ report cards, endless scrapbooks. For my husband, file cabinets of old sermons, outdated bulletins, souvenirs. We will have to carry those things inside us now, wispy memories. With these memories comes deep gratitude that we were privileged to live this life, to have known these people, to have traveled this road.

And now, with a much lighter load, we continue our journey.

This article appeared in ARMS, a publication for retired ministers in the Va. United Methodist Conference at the time of the Smiths moving to Brandermill Woods.