The Pioneer

Two Cups of Tea at Hope’s Cafe

Having grown up in northern Oklahoma, known for the Cherokee Strip Land Run September 16, 1893, and home to the Pioneer Woman statue located in Ponca City, I had a rather romantic notion about pioneering.  Pioneers were rugged, resourceful, adventurous people.  I thought I would have loved to have been a pioneer.  Eventually I came to realize that they endured some unimaginable hardships that I wouldn’t have wanted to experience. 

I could easily get sidetracked here both because of the history of the Oklahoma land runs on the territory given to the Cherokee and other tribes removed from their homelands  (Trail of Tears come to mind?) and because of the back story of the Pioneer Woman statue.  But that is not the point of this blog.

In the fourth grade we had a shelf of books in our room to include a number of biographies.  I read the one about Jane Addams, the first “social worker,” first called “friendly visitors.”  I decided immediately that is what I wanted to do.  Mostly I single-mindedly pursued that goal.  Twenty-five post graduate years later, working as a Licensed Clinical Social Worker, I felt a tug in another direction. The direction was quite indistinct.  My inclination was to find a mentor, which I did.  The mentor urged me to take Clinical Pastoral Education, which I did.  I then had an opportunity to do a three year lay ministry course.  One thing kept leading to another and I eventually was ordained and accepted a call to a church in Montana. (I must have some pioneer spirit!)

During those years as a pastor, my duties, though varied, provided a solid structure to my life.  And then I retired.  Any routine is elusive.  Many people thrive on the freedom of retirement.  I certainly aspired to it.  But I find myself feeling like a pioneer trying to negotiate the landscape of my life.  I thought I had the perfect plan:  spend a large portion of time with our grandchildren several states away; join the choir at church; do occasional supply pastoring.  But I find my life choppy, not coherent, certainly not with the ever-evolving path that I experienced on the road to ministry.  And I have encountered obstacles I hadn’t anticipated that make the journey more challenging. 

The site VeryWellMind addresses this. “Retirement brings a new sense of freedom, but it also comes with challenges and difficult emotions. It’s a change in identity, finances, relationships, and how you spend your time—no wonder it can be difficult to adjust.

“You’ve likely thought a lot about how you’ll enjoy your golden years. But there’s a good chance you never thought much about the psychological effect retirement might have on you. Retirement often means a loss of identity. Whether you identified as a banker, cook, or teacher, retirement can cause you to question who you are now that you’re no longer working.”

That same article suggests “experimenting” with your life,  which, curiously, is a technique we used as therapists.  “Experimenting” gives one room to explore without feeling so much anxiety about the results.  Afterall, it’s an experiment! 

Ralph Waldo Emerson would applaud this.  He said “All life is an experiment.  The more experiments  you make the better!”

To those who may also be feeling like “pioneers” trying to master a new stage or circumstance, I encourage you to join me in “experimenting!”

The invitation is open to share two cups of tea anytime at Hope’s Café or anywhere you share companionship and conversation.

May we bearers of hope, the “wait staff” at Hope’s Café, for each other and all those we encounter.  Shalom, Kate