We were both standing at the kitchen island, working on our latest baking projects. My wife was cutting out sugar cookies to be baked and decorated for a granddaughter’s preschool graduation and nascent cottage food business. I was giving my sourdough a final stretch in preparation for an overnight in the fridge.
I chuckled and asked, “We had no idea we’d be doing this six months ago, did we?”
I’m coming up on two years of retirement and my wife has been easing into hers over the past six months. I was never able to come up with a really good answer for the question, “So what are you going to do?” Or, “What’s retirement going to look like for you?” She didn’t many good answers, either.
I think that’s because you just don’t know. You don’t know what opportunities, challenges, or people will show up until they do. In addition to baking and decorating cookies, we’re raising a Great Dane puppy, working on a wellness newsletter, and considering leading a small group. I’m going to lead an online Bible Study Fellowship group in the fall and teach a middle school Sunday School class once a month. None of these things were on the table even six months ago.
Yesterday, the pastor was preaching on Genesis 12. As that chapter unfolds, God says to Abram, “Go,” and “Abram went.” Talk about a bold step of faith. God’s command prompts all sorts of questions, but the only answer is, “I will show you.”
- “Go.” “Where?” “I will show you.”
- “I will make of you a great nation.” “How?” “I will show you.”
- “I will bless you and make your name great.” “How are you going to do that?” “I will show you.”
- “I will bless those who bless you…in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” “What do you mean by that?” “I will show you.”
Over the next twenty-five years and eleven chapters of scripture, God does show Abram (Abraham) how he is able to do more than all we ask or imagine. In a lot of ways, the Lord has done the same thing for us. We’ve met great people, traveled to new places, and gotten involved in new ministries.
A lot of other people seemed to be concerned about our retirement life. I wasn’t. I kind of figured God would find a way to fill it up.






Today would probably be my last visit. The last time I saw J. he didn’t look too bad. He had lost some weight, had lost some strength and had to use a walker. The cancer was there, but he didn’t purse treatment. He’d had ninety-one good years, fifty-five of them with an amazing wife. A life well-lived.
The call came pretty late last night, about 10:45. I was driving, and felt my phone buzz in my pocked, but didn’t listen to the message until after I got home. “She said she thinks he’s dying.” I only live about a mile away and I didn’t want them to be alone, so I headed over to the apartment.