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?