Nashville and a change in plans

The last week in October I flew into Nashville TN.  I've only been to that airport one other time.  When I arrived in the newly renovated airport it was after 10:00PM and the concourse was fairly quiet.  I went down the escalator to the baggage floor, then continued downward on another escalator to the lowest level for Ground Transportation and Rental Cars.  The silence in that area was in profound contrast to the roar of voices I heard the first time I took that escalator.

On September 11, 2001 my husband dropped me off at Bradley Airport where I boarded my plane to Houston TX to visit with my parents.  It was an early flight leaving around 6:00AM - if all went well I'd be in Houston in time to have lunch with Mom and Dad.  Things did not go as planned.

Only one-and-a-half hours from Houston the pilot came on to say that the FAA had asked all planes
to land so we were heading to Nashville, the closest large airport.  He told us that he'd get back with us after we landed with more information.  I heard a man's voice 4 or 5 rows ahead talking.  I only caught the words "plane" and "building".  It meant nothing to me.  My own mind was logically working this out that there must have been an issue with the computers at the control towers.  Maybe a communications breakdown nationwide.  That thought made me a little nervous about the landing.

Once on the ground the pilot came back on and told us about the planes going into the World Trade Center buildings.  As we disembarked and entered the concourse there was a TV on and as we turned to check it out we watched the first tower collapsed.  We learned that a plane had flown into the Pentagon and another plane had crashed in PA.  We looked at one another, all with expressions of  confusion, asking one another, "What is going on?"

I headed to the pay phones and called home to leave a message for my husband and also called my mother-in-law.  Then I called my Mom and told her I'd get back to her when I figured out what to do.  I hung up the phone with that question continuing in my head, "What am I going to do?"  As I stood there a woman came up to me and asked if I had been heading to Houston.  I said yes and she told me she was a lawyer who had been returning to Houston after doing some work up in New England.  After calling her family she called her law office and someone there had started calling rental car companies trying to find a car in Nashville.  This woman told me she had a reservation for one and asked if  I wanted to join her.  Her eyesight kept her from driving after dark so she also wanted to know if I could drive at night.  I was fine with that.

We picked up our luggage and headed down to the rental area.  It was packed and the roar of voices made it hard for us to hear one another.  Many of the companies already had signs out: "No more cars".  We hoped that our rental company truly had the car that their computer had shown available.  It did and we were soon on our way. 


My travel that day was a sort of pilgrimage.  Accompanied by a stranger we got to know one another better as we traveled; we made stops and checked in with our families.  As the horrors of what had happened unfolded we were able to talk through our fears with one another.  We traveled across the countryside, following the roads to Houston.  Ten years later I walked across the countryside of Spain, following the road to Santiago de Compostella.  I was accompanied by strangers, many who I got to know better.   As I walked I found I had to change my plans a number of times and in fact,  I found that "letting go" of plans seemed to be a major theme of the pilgrimage.

I had become a pilgrim to mark my 60th birthday and to reflect on the final third of my life.  The physical and mental act of letting go along the way, I realized, would certainly play out in my life after I returned home.  I'd watched my own parents age and talked to many, many retired clergy and spouses.  Plans are made and then something happens.  The death of a spouse or the diagnosis of a serious chronic illness might change the entire direction of one's retirement.

I reflected on the theme of "letting go" as I walked the Camino and I found that the companion theme was building trust in God, not trusting that God is going to step in and make things go the way I think I want them to go, however.  It's a more subtle thing, an understanding that I will trust God is always with me - helping me to find the strength, courage, patience, creativity, compassion that has always been within me.

My date of retirement, January 1st, is quickly approaching.  That in itself will be a be "letting go" as I step away from twenty-five years with Preachers' Aid Society and my identity there.  I have done much in preparation and I've made some plans for the early months of my retirement. I wonder how long before a find myself needing to make a change in plans.  For this my prayer is  "God, help me to hold on to the coming days lightly, ready to let go of plans easily and to make room for change.  Thank you for the friends, the family, and the strangers along the way who will reach out to help me on this journey.  And God, I trust that you will be there too!" 

A Walk in the Woods

     I enjoyed my time in North Carolina with a jaunt over to Knoxville TN.  Just as when I began with Preachers' Aid Society, I am so enriched by having the opportunity to sit down with retired clergy and spouses from our conference and visit.  The stories they share are marvelous and it is truly a sacred time.
     But after being away it is also good to return home.  I quickly returned to my rhythm including walking in Forest Park each morning.  Last Wednesday, as often happens, I saw the heron in one of the ponds.  Unless I've spotted it flying the heron only gradually comes into view as I focus on the water.  I paused and watched for a time, then continued.
     There's a short heavily wooded path I take that leads up to a busy street in Longmeadow.  I always go up its steep incline partly for the exercise and partly because I often see deer either as I go up or come back down.  When I headed up on Wednesday I saw no deer so I continued towards the top with the hope I might spot one on the way back.  Instead I heard a very loud yell from down the hill behind me. 

     Because it was so early in the morning I doubted this was a child and as I stopped and listened I realized I was hearing what sounded like a very angry man talking and yelling every so often as he walked up the hill behind me.  I continued walking.
      At the top of the hill I headed down the street then turned around and looked back.  The man that I saw was still yelling and gesturing.  He could have been someone working out their anger, someone talking angrily to an imagined companion, or possibly a preacher working on a sermon full of hell, fire and brimstone.  I decided not to  find out which as it appeared he was going to start back down the path.  So I watched for another way back into the park and was soon rewarded with a small trail opening.
       And here's the interesting part of this story.  I had decided to be cautious and go another way and I actually found myself rewarded for the effort.  I quickly forgot the other person and the anger because almost immediately I was walking through a thick canopy of rhododendrons in full bloom.  The path narrowed and I was brushing the plants as I walked, but it was worth it.  They were like beacons inviting me to move forward.  I finally wound my way back to the usual path and continued around the Park.
        As I walked up a familiar hill, a wide area on an asphalt surface I looked up to the top and there was a deer looking down at me.  I took a couple more steps and stopped and we just stared.  Then she continued her walk to the other side and that's when I saw the two very small fawns following behind her.  I have never seen fawns in Forest Park and the sight took my breath away as I watched them disappear into the woods. A little farther along I entered another wooded path and there in front of me were four wild turkeys with one chick.
         As I continued my walk I thought about the use of caution as I continue to age.  I find that many have "cautioned" me as they've learned I'm retiring January 1st. Every so often someone warns me: "Don't get old - it's really hard!"  I usually reply that I'll take a chance since I don't like the alternative.  After all, there are always parts of our lives that are harder.  More often than not those are the times when faith grows deeper and we learn more about trusting in God. 
        One doesn't have to read the Gospels for long to find that Jesus made some interesting choices around caution.  He can hardly be described as a cautious person as he lives with others on the margins in ancient Israel.  He doesn't play it safe and have the disciples send away the crowds instead of feeding the 5,000.  He doesn't use caution when he reads from the Torah in his hometown of Nazareth.  But he does step away over and over to be by himself to pray.  Jesus shows us how to live boldly in the world putting our trust in God.  Prayer is key if we are to live lives of faith.
        I do understand I need to be cautious about many dangers such as walking very carefully on ice in the winter.   I also believe it's important not to let other persons' fears make me overly cautious.   I hope I will always speak out against injustice and create community rather than retreating to a small safe space.  My prayer is that God will help me to choose wisely when to use caution... and when not to.
    

Another Rule of the Road

Driving on some of the two lane highways in Georgia and Ohio reminded me of another of my Dad's rules - get out in front of everyone else.  He thought it was better to get out in front and see what's coming for yourself rather than have to guess what's going on with a car in front of you.  So as I was learning to drive I had to learn to pass other cars.
   I remember the anxiety I felt as we drove the curving Highway 90 between Morgan City and Lafayette.   When the sugar cane had already been cut or had not yet started to grow you could see around the curves and I gradually learned how to move my car into the other lane and quickly get around whoever I was passing.  However, when it was harvest season the tall sugar cane would block visibility at the very time that we would get caught behind the large trucks carrying the sugar cane from the fields.  I found that I could be much more patient than my dad.
   I didn't complain about the curving roads in Louisiana, however.  After being raised in Kansas, where every street seemed to be in a perfect square with the next and from the highway you could see all the way to the next town's water tower straight ahead, I was glad to have the meandering roads that refused to go straight to the next town.  I was in downright ecstasy at first after moving to New England.  I loved the adventure of turning on a street in Boston and not being able to take anything
for granted about where it might lead.
    When I was walking the Camino de Santiago I was also thinking about straight roads versus those that curve.  After the winding roads through the mountains where I started the way began to flatten out and on the Meseta you could see miles ahead towards where you thought you were going. I had looked forward to the flatness of the Meseta with only a few mesa's to climb.  Only when we arrived at what we thought was the end, we'd find there was still farther to go.  I longed again for the winding roads through the mountains that carried with them surprises and variety and a touch of mystery.
     I'm reading a book on retirement now that has suggested I write out my goals for retirement - my vision.  I guess my long range (straight road for miles) vision is to live a meaningful life staying active and engaged right to the end.  I know, however, that life is going to be more like the curving highway, full of twists and turns and surprises.  I think a more important goal for me to reflect on is how will I live the later years of my life.  How will I respond when illness or an accident brings me to a halt?  How will I manage when the landscape changes as friends and family die or move or relationships change?  How will I deal with the need to move from our home one day?  And most importantly, what will I do to nurture trust that God will be with me for the whole trip?
     In Terry Hershey's Sabbath Moment (http://www.terryhershey.com/digging-for-treasure/)  this week he included a quote:
I don’t really know where I’m going. The road is unfolding in wonderful, challenging, and unexpected ways. -Rabbi Alan Lurie
Sounds to me like a good way to travel and I hope the road will unfold for me in the same way.  As long as I have God traveling with me I think I'm ready to continue around every bend, whatever may come.  May God be with you in your travels also!

Rules of the Road

    As I was driving through Atlanta during my trip to Georgia I thought my dad’s driving rule for interstates:  trust the signs.  He taught me this as I drove through Houston TX in the summer of 1967.  I had been driving since my birthday in December 1965, but had little experience on freeways as there were few completed in our area.   On our vacation I'd had the chance to drive on freeways many times, however, I had yet to drive on one in a big city.  I felt a mixture of great excitement and utter fear as Dad announced my driving through Houston would be good practice. 

      Things went pretty well until I had to change from one freeway to another.  My dad sat next to me asking “What does the sign say?  What lane should you be in?”  Please do not imagine that he was calmly making these statements - that just wasn't my dad's style.  I gradually learned how to use the signs and what my dad meant as he told me, “You've got to trust the signs, Cathy.”  “Follow the signs.”

      I made it through Houston (with no yelling between my dad and me that we couldn't laugh about later).  Years later I was driving in New York City and glanced over at a completely separate highway parallel to the one I was on.  I panicked for a moment when I saw a sign over the other road for the interstate I thought I was on.  Then I remembered dad’s words, rechecked the signs in front of me and realized I was on the right road.  The road to the right had its own signs directing people who wanted to merge onto the interstate I was traveling.

      In Atlanta there was no time of day when you could travel without running into terrible traffic somewhere.  So once again I thought of dad as I trusted the signs would lead me to the correct lanes and the highways I sought.  They did.

     Driving around Georgia I continued to think about "trusting the signs."  I started wondering what signs I need to trust as I prepare for my retirement.  I've called on many retirees over my years and know that they have followed signs.  Some signs were truly helpful.  Other times not so much.  For instance I've heard surviving spouses talk about how a couple's retirement plans were made based on the health issues of one spouse, only to have the "healthier" spouse pass away suddenly.  Some have moved to be near grandchildren or for health reasons, only to feel stranded as families were transferred and conditions changed.
     I saw signs within Preachers' Aid Society that pointed me towards setting my retirement date.  Our staff has gone through changes, job descriptions have been in transition, and I could see how 2016 could be a time of letting go of those responsibilities that have defined me in my work for many years.  By the end of this year I will have only one focus: completing the visits with our retirees who live outside the New England states.  As conversations have started to include such phrases as "at your last staff meeting"  or "my last annual conference while with PAS" I've felt the impact of just what following the signs will mean leaving behind.
     I remember that while I was walking the Camino I would trust the yellow arrows along the way and they were usually trustworthy.  But the greater lesson I learned on the pilgrimage, and one that I keep in mind now, was to put my trust in God.   I'll be following the highway signs as I head to Ohio to visit retirees next week, but I'll be trusting God to lead me on through this year.  God, what are the signs you have set out for me?
    Safe travels!  Cathy

A Walk in the Park

Early in the morning I head to Forest Park for my walk.  This morning was particularly glorious.  I was greeted by crows cawing at first light.  As I walked farther into the park the earth turned towards the sun and the symphony of the birds began a quick crescendo.  As day broke I was able to make out some of the birds: a mourning dove flying off, a cardinal up in the tree, red-winged blackbirds, blue jays, robins and, of course, many sparrows.
      I rounded a corner and there was the full moon in the west.  It would only be visible for a short while longer as the earth continued its slow turn to the east.  Further down I reached the duck ponds where I saw - no surprise here - ducks along with geese.  It was also a place to stop and take in the colors of the sunrise for a while.
     I love my morning walks in the park.  I've read that we are actually nourished as we walk near trees.  Researchers in Japan have found that walking among trees can reduce stress and lower blood pressure among other benefits.  Perhaps there are added benefits when we watch awesome sunrises, gaze at the full moon, or listen to and watch such a variety of birds.
     As I reached the amphitheater I saw my fox friend.  We're gradually getting to know one another.  This was the 4th or 5th time I've seen her as I round the bend.  We usually have a stare-down and she always wins.  Maybe one morning we'll stop and have a cup of coffee (or water) and get to know each other better.
     Thinking about my time in the park this morning makes me think of Mary Oliver who tells us
 “Instructions for living a life.

Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.” 

    Perhaps being in nature helps us in the practice of paying attention.  It certainly opens us to being astonished.  And here I am telling you about it.  Maybe my practice doing this in nature helps me to pay more attention to the other details of my life.  And if birds and sunrises and foxes can astonish me, then surely my paying attention will allow me be astonished in other ways.
       I still remember visiting with a retired couple up in ME years ago.  They were getting up in age and walking was difficult, but they loved sitting on their porch watching the hummingbirds at the feeder.  I joined them out there during one of my visits and was astonished at the number of hummingbirds.   In MA there was a surviving spouse (in her 80s) who would show me her garden each time I visited.  She was gradually clearing large stones from the area and building a fence with them.  When I say large stones I mean they were really large.  I had images of her with a lever and fulcrum in some cases.  Then she could work the new soil and plant more flowers and vegetables.  Her garden kept growing as she cleared more and more land. It was truly astonishing to consider the physical labor this elderly woman took on out of love for her garden.

     Next Tuesday I leave for Georgia where I'll be visiting more of our retired clergy.  I'm looking forward to enjoying the warmth of the springtime sun down there.  From there I'll travel to New Orleans to attend the 3M Network.  The "3M" stands for Maintaining Minsters in Ministry.  This group representing many conferences comes together to share the work that is happening so we can learn from one another.  I first connected with 3M as we were preparing to bring Tending the Fire to New England. 
     For now, I'm preparing for Maundy Thursday and Good Friday.  Soon we will be celebrating the joy of Easter morning and the astonishment of the Resurrection and God's great love for all of us.  I wish all of you Easter blessings.
      In preparing for my trip I'll continue to practice paying attention, and being astonished.  And I'll tell you about it next week!

Blessings on the journey!

Marveling at God's time

At the end of this month I'll be heading to Georgia for more visits.  While I'm looking forward to this next round, I'm also still reflecting on the wonderful visits in California and Arizona back in January.  One story stands out in particular.

Prior to leaving for California I had called our retired families to arrange visits.  There were a few with whom I couldn't work out a visit, but there were also a couple who I was unable to reach.  I tried calling, email if possible, and also writing.  One couple I had not reached was a Korean pastor, The Rev. Ho Kyun Ko and his wife Hyun Hee.   I had originally met the Kos shortly after his retirement.  They did not speak English and we had arranged for a friend of theirs to translate for us, but when she was unable to get to their house we ended up visiting and using the phone, with their friend on it translating, passing it back and forth.  It's hard to have a conversation that way, but we did get to know each other a little better.

So I was thrilled when their son called me as I was driving to my first visit in California.  He was in Los Angeles for the week to help them move to an assisted living facility.  He had found my letter among their things as they had moved and decided to call me.  We arranged a visit time, but then it had to be cancelled when he learned that his father had an appointment already scheduled at that time.  Their son was heading home the next day and for a time I thought we were going to miss each other after all.

But schedules change and after a shift in the times for some of my visits in Phoenix I realized we could leave earlier than originally planned to head back to L.A.  That meant possibly visiting with the Kos and still having time to drive to my afternoon visit.  We left Phoenix about 6:00AM headed for an area near downtown L.A.  As I drove it started to dawn on me that I had no idea how we would communicate with one another so I started a breath prayer:  God of grace, help us to communicate.  I repeated it over and over.  At the same time the very logical part of my mind was telling me "You've got to be kidding.  You can't just pull in someone expecting that they'll speak Korean and English."   I tried to ignore that voice.

Just a sidenote, as we got closer to L.A. the traffic picked up and it seemed to be very heavy even late on a Saturday morning.  We were moving, however, so I guess it was better than a work day.  I do not miss the traffic in southern CA!

We arrived at the address and I was even more concerned. It was a secure building in a Korean section of town.  The sign was in Korean and when I rang the doorbell the woman who answered did not speak English.  I showed her Rev. Ko's name on my phone which she recognized so she led us in to some benches in a small area to wait.  Questions arose -  would they recognize the Preachers' Aid Society logo on my card?  Might the Kos understand a little more English than before so we could say "Hi"?  Finally the woman came back to give us their room number and direct us to an elevator.  We headed up to the next floor and started looking for their room.

As we turned into a large hallway we saw people walking down the hall.  We figured they were residents coming back from lunch.  One couple was an elderly lady walking with a younger woman.  The younger woman asked - in English! - if she could help.  I told her the apartment we were looking for and she had a funny look on her face.  She asked who and when I said the Kos she smiled and said "Here they are."   She was walking with Mrs. Ko and when I looked behind her I saw her husband walking with a tall gentleman I recognized as Rev. Ko.  After I introduced myself the woman told me they had arrived the day before from Rhode Island and were heading to lunch, but we'd go back to their apartment for a short visit.  It was a wonderful visit as she and her husband  translated for us and we were able to share greetings from New England with the Kos.  We ended with prayer, first in English and then in Korean, and then walked them out to the car to head on to lunch.

I continue to be in awe of the many ways God answers prayer.  The whole time I was praying as I drove from Phoenix, God already knew we were going to have our visit.  Once again I entered for a moment into the sacredness of God's time... a time when important things can happen, even when I doubt and think they can not.  Once again God's gentle nudging urged me to trust, to trust that God's time is big, especially when we focus on one another.  As I planned my visits for Georgia and more recently as I put together a trip to Ohio I tried to leave enough time to allow for bad traffic and for delays.  But I also tried to trust that God will be present in the times of travel and also with each visit.  I look forward to once again sitting down with our retired families and connecting with them in person.  May God's awesome sense of time be with me in my travels.  And thank you, those who are reading this, for traveling with me also! 
Blessings,
Cathy

Successful Struggle

One of my favorite parts of visiting retirees is to learn what they are reading.  I was not disappointed as I started my visits in January.  The first retired pastor I visited was reading The Beautiful Struggle by Ta-Nehisi Coates,  a black correspondent for the Atlantic Monthly.  She thought it was even better than his more recent book Between the World and Me, written in the form of a letter to his son.   I was immediately captivated by the title.  I can only imagine the struggles of a black man so the word beautiful truly jumped out at me.

The next day Richard and I stopped to spend the night at Joshua Tree CA on our way to Phoenix.  We arrived in the late afternoon and had time to take a couple of short hikes in the Joshua Tree National Park.  Along the trails were signs giving information about the desert.  I couldn't believe it when I saw the title of one, "Successful Struggle."  There was that word again, this time paired with the unlikely word "successful."

The Beautiful Struggle... Successful Struggle... I've been thinking about struggle in terms of retirement since the word and it's unusual descriptors decided to bore their way into me.   The sign in Joshua Tree National Park mentioned adaptation as a means of survival in the desert.  As the area grew more arid it was the plants and animals adapting to the desert rather than fighting that survived in the increasingly harsh climate.  After referring to some of the ways the plants and animals adapted the sign concluded with this sentence: "Each is an example of survival, a small miracle, and a valuable lesson."

We have many, many retirees who are like that - examples of survival, valuable lessons, and even some small miracles.  I thought back to Lois Palches, a poet and essayist.  Lois and her husband Peter lived in an apartment at the Deaconess in Concord MA (Now one of The Deaconess Abundant Life Communities) and I called on them regularly.  One day Lois passed along an essay to me, the title I've forgotten, but the theme was adaptation.  She wrote about how much they loved to entertain. Lois, in particular, loved to cook and bake.  So when they first retired they regularly had friends over for dinner.  However, as they and their friends aged she found that it was more and more difficult for them to drive at night, so she adapted.  They began having friends over for lunch.  With great style and humor Lois continued to tell the story of adaptation as she noted they got older more and more often their friends wanted to leave early to take an afternoon nap.  She responded by inviting friends to brunch.

I also think of Betty Stahl, who I called on along with her husband Roland in Rhode Island.  When she was at risk of debilitating pain from arthritis she decided to try Tai Chi.  She not only learned Tai Chi but went on to teach it.  After her husband Roland died she started mowing the yard with a hand mower.  Each morning she would go outside and do a small section. She adapted so she might live fully.

I remember one of my later visits with Lois.  They had moved to an assisted living apartment and she no longer had access to an oven; she greatly missed being able to bake.  It was in this new time of adapting that she came up with an idea for her epitaph, "The loaf of my life has tested done."  I loved it!  Lois died in 1998 at the age of 93. 

I know my own struggles, most cushioned by white privilege, don't compare with those of Ta-Nehisi Coates and I've never faced the life and death struggles of the desert, but I do understand that the aging process will bring struggle into my retirement years.  As I consider the struggles of so many retirees visited over the years I realize that many can be described by the words "beautiful" and "successful."    So I am thankful for Lois and Betty and so many others.  I am blessed by the valuable lessons of their lives. Who are those who have blessed your life with valuable lessons?

A vision for retirement

Sunrise looking east towards Phoenix

   It’s my second day catching up after my two week jaunt through California and Arizona.  I traveled 1,377 miles which included the Los Angeles area and south, Phoenix AZ, and just outside San Francisco CA.   One of the visits in AZ was a little Northwest of Phoenix in Sun City.  When looking at the History of Retirement, Sun City is a significant part of the story.

You see, in 1960 a new idea emerged as Del Webb built 5 model homes in Sun City AZ just outside of Phoenix.  On January 1^st of that year thousands came through to see the homes and the sales began.  In the first year 2,000 modest homes sold for $8,500 to$11,750.  Webb had a vision of an active community for those 55 or older.  And people responded.  

I get the impression from reading about this first "retirement community" that it was promoting a leisurely but active lifestyle that accented sports like golf, tennis, and bowling.  It has gone through changes over the years and what I saw was an area filled with far more than one retirement community.  An article in the "Arizona Republic" notes that Sun City is reinventing itself as it continues to attract retirees – now the Baby Boomer generation.  The modest houses are being bought and renovated and newer, updated homes continue to be built.  The median price in Sun City is now up to about $130,000.  The article said golf courses are less crowded and the bowling alleys are not used as much, but new activities are taking their place.  

Someone retiring in their mid to late 60's may live another 30 years, so interests have changed.  Now you will see retirees on the golf course, swimming, and maybe bowling, but you will also see retirees out hiking, jogging, and participating in more strenuous sports.  They're also finding ways to continue learning.  Our churches can be a significant part of this more "active" retirement as our elders seek out mission trips, service projects, volunteer opportunities and other ways to be involved in their local community and beyond.  Spending time with extended family is also a priority.  I met retirees and surviving spouses who originally moved West to be near grandchildren as they grew up.  Others moved out later in life to be near adult children who could assist with their care.

I loved hearing about the lives of those I visited.  Their interests filled a wide range from promoting racial justice to caring for good friends dying, from watching a grandchild regularly, to writing a memoir, and from horseback riding to staying active on the computer. 

I found a definition of retirement: “the action or fact of leaving one’s job and ceasing to work.”  It may be true that whether we are pastors or plumbers, lawyers or food servers, house painters or managers, teachers or janitors, we will cease working one day and drawing a paycheck.  We are more than our work, however, and I think we have to figure that our before we retire.  I'm thinking about my own dreams and hopes - how will they help to form a vision for my retirement?  

I saw a Snoopy cartoon this morning.  Charlie Brown  is pointing out to Snoopy that one day we will all die.  Snoopy comes back with "True, but on all the other days we will not."  What will give meaning to all those other days? 

Blessings,  Cathy