April 2020 – Terri LaBonte- Reinventing Myself in Retirement

Pointless

Somewhere along the line during the COVID-19 lockdown, my sense of purpose began to fray. I started out my social exile pretty well. I kept busy. I had a routine. I found ways to contribute to the general well-being of my community. At least, I thought I found ways to contribute to the well-being of my community. As time goes on, I’m not sure I’m contributing much of anything, truthfully.

I spend time and energy each day sending notes, texts, and emails to family and friends and people who I think might be particularly isolated. I call people to let them know there is a world outside their doors that values and misses them. I figured out ways to hold meetings with church groups and friends using email, conference calls, and the zoom computer platform. I had to learn a bunch of technical stuff, which is way outside my comfort zone.

I feel like I’m doing a whole bunch of stuff, but I am beginning to wonder if it is stuff that actually needs doing. Maybe I’m fulfilling a need that doesn’t exist in the first place. It wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve expended a lot of effort on tasks that weren’t that vital. I think it happened a lot in my career. No one would ever say I am not a hard worker. Most people valued me for my reliability and my willingness to work till I dropped, not for any particular talent or skill I brought to the table. The problem is that I’m not sure all that work had much positive result. I’ve said in the past that a lot of what I did in my career was largely symbolic so it was really hard to tell if I was making any tangible difference. Sure, some of the work I did with individual clients did result in some positive outcomes, but finding the positive impact could feel a bit like trying to identify a particular grain of sand on a wide expanse of beach.

I feel the same way now. I’m not sure that all my efforts are netting any positive result. The first “virtual” meeting I held was a bit of a disaster. I think my friends appreciated that I made the attempt, but I also don’t think they thought the meeting was helpful in any way. On my next attempt, with a conference call technology, I had a small group of ladies who I think were just on the call to be supportive. Then, I started to hold video conference meetings, which were a little better, but I’m still not sure if they were really important to anyone’s well-being. The same is true with my individual touches. When I call or send a card or email someone, he or she sounds surprised. I think I am imagining more of a need to connect than actually exists. Maybe the only true need I am meeting is my own need to be busy and feel like I’m doing something valuable.

A lot of my feeling of pointlessness probably springs from the general loss of control I feel during these turbulent times. I’m used to being busy and active and helping and doing. Being in isolation with no real sense of when the world I used to know will open for business once again, it is difficult to be me without the busy-ness. I think I have been distracting myself from that sense of anomie by doing stuff to fool myself into thinking I am making a difference. The trick has started wearing off over the past couple of weeks.

Recently, though, I have had a few experiences that are pushing the pendulum back to the positive side. I received a lovely card from a friend of mine who is partnering with me in my “we may be physically apart but you are close to my heart” efforts. It reminded me why we are trying to connect. It also reminded me that caretakers need a little care, as well. I also received a beautiful card thanking me for some pictures I finally printed from my phone for the church scrapbook. The person who sent me the card seemed way more tickled by my efforts than they merited, but I appreciated the effusiveness at a time when I was starting to feel pretty irrelevant. I also received a note from one of the Operation Homebound clients to whom I deliver (actually, the proper term would be delivered before the COVID-19 interfered with a perfectly good, practical corporal work of mercy) meals. I was feeling horrible that the ministry was on hiatus to avoid spreading contagion and thought that I could least send “thinking of you” cards to the clients. This lovely man wrote back to thank me.

Then, there was a huge event that made me rethink my lifelong feeling of pointlessness. I had a phone call from one of my former clients from my working life. It has probably been seven or eight years since I worked with this gentleman. He happened to have my cell phone number because I called him from my personal phone once when I was on a business trip. I guess he, bored with quarantine himself, was puttering around on his phone and found my contact number. He called to tell me, over and over again, how much he appreciated everything I did for him and how I changed his life in such a positive way.

Admittedly, I was able to resolve what should really have been an insurmountable problem for him. There is no way that what we were able to achieve should ever have happened based on my thirty years of experience. The whole situation took literally years of time, every tool I had at my disposal, hours and hours of effort, and the intervention of the head of the entire federal government agency for whom I worked. It was, without a doubt, the most spectacular moment of my career. Maybe not my favorite moment. Maybe not my most important moment. Maybe not the accomplishment of which I am proudest. But spectacular? You bet.

Still, it was just my job. And it was just one person. I never really thought I could impute a worthwhile life legacy from this one event.

Now, after talking to my client almost a decade later, I’m not so sure. And maybe there are more people out there who I have helped- in my working life, in my retirement life, and in my COVID-19 life. I just may not be able to see the impact of my actions.

Maybe my life isn’t pointless, after all. Not to put too fine a point on it… but I have always said that I think my purpose in life is not to do extraordinary things, but to do ordinary things with extraordinary love. Maybe love is the only point that there is.

How have you found meaning in your life during the COVID-19 isolation? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Stay healthy physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually during this difficult time!

Terri/Dorry 🙂

Random Observations From Quarantine

Over the past several weeks of “safer at home” lockdown, I’ve had plenty of time to observe the world and think great thoughts. Well, maybe not great thoughts, but thoughts, nonetheless. Here are a few of the notions that are percolating in what is left of my mind:

At some point, my hair’s ability to grow wider, wavier, and wilder exceeds my ability to wield a flat iron. I reached that point a couple of weeks ago. Now, not only do I have a gray streak running down the center of my head at the roots, I am also sporting a hair style reminiscent of a terrifying Bozo The Clown.

It’s okay that I can’t flatten my hair because the flatter my hair is, the more obvious the gray stripe running down my roots is.

I don’t recommend watching a Zombieland flick when you are sheltering-in-place to avoid contagion. We just watched Zombieland Double Tap the other night. A movie about the brain-eating “survivors” in a world decimated by a mutant virus probably wasn’t the best choice. Maybe a little too close to home right now. What’s worse is that I found it laugh-out-loud funny at some points. I felt really crummy about that. My soul is dark and evil.

Going to the grocery store is now like foraging. I play hunter and gatherer for myself and several immune-compromised friends. It is interesting that it is difficult to buy milk, eggs, meat, peanut butter, canned soups, and other protein sources, but there is no shortage of potato chips, ice cream, candy, and cookies on the supermarket shelves. I should be fine.

If my work colleagues who tried so hard to shove me into the 21^st century of technology and distance learning could see me now, they would be laughing hysterically. I was using paper and pen long after every rational person opted for word processing programs. Now, I’m experimenting with conference calls and zoom.com like I invented the whole idea.

It is helpful to keep a handwritten food diary when in isolation. You’ll probably stop eating when the writer’s cramp gets bad enough. No guarantees, though. For people who are hoarding food as if we were awaiting the zombie apocalypse (ooops… there’s that zombie thing again), we certainly are consuming it like there is no tomorrow.

My bedroom floor will never be uncluttered again. I often have bags and boxes of things I need for my various organizations arranged carefully on the bedroom floor. Typically, by May, all my pending projects for these organizations are completed and I regain the real estate in my boudoir. This year, however, all bets are off. I prepared for several large interactive presentations for my church groups before we went under house arrest, including buying supplies and equipment. I thought that stuff would be off the floor of my bedroom by now. These presentations don’t lend themselves to the virtual environment. I have an interesting collection of paper goods, decorations, pamphlets, outlines, art supplies, and bed sheets stacked against the wall of my room. Looks like those things, like me, are not going anywhere for a while.

I wonder if my fingers will ever recover from the pruney wrinkles caused by excessive handwashing. It may require plastic surgery. When I was a little girl, I remember my frustrated mother’s response to misbehavior. She’d say, “go take a bath and don’t come out until you are pruney.” I wonder what I did bad this time.

It’s okay to be sad about “selfish” stuff. Over the past few weeks, many people have had to cancel huge, once-in-a-lifetime celebrations. Graduations, weddings, funeral services, high school reunions, and many other similar events have been postponed or cancelled. People feel bad about feeling bad because they know that, compared to worldwide death and disease, their events are not that big a deal. It is a big deal, though, and I feel for those people. I encourage them to mourn those disappointments. I, fortunately, have not had to deal with anything like that. There have been several “next tier” kind of cancellations that have hit me, though. My planned vacation to New York City to see both Hamilton and Come From Away on Broadway is not happening. I miss my weekly trips to Disney and other fun places. I think I am saddest about missing my annual retreat to Discovery Cove. I’m sure I’ll reschedule, but, with the wackadoodle Florida weather, the ideal window of opportunity for this excursion is limited. I think it is okay to mourn these things, as long as I keep everything in perspective.

I think I may have discovered the antidote for quarantined-induced frumpiness. Two words. Video conference.

What have you observed during this challenging time? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Have a healthy day!

Terri/Dorry 😊

Keeping Up Appearances. Or Not.

For the first time in over 30 years, I don’t have acrylic fingernails. Which pretty much means I don’t have nails at all. After so many years of hiding under layers of acrylic, my natural nails are significantly atrophied. At this point, a harsh word can chip, splinter, and crack them.

My nails are not the only aspect of my appearance that has suffered after weeks of limited contact with other people. I am trying to be a responsible citizen of the world and stem the spread of the COVID-19 contagion. I am not making the huge sacrifices that our medical professionals, truck drivers, grocery workers, first responders, and other essential personnel are making. I do not want to complain.

It might be time for an intervention, though. I am in a downward spiral.

My hair is growing thicker and bushier. I am growing into the oh-so-attractive skunk look as my roots become more pronounced. Some of you know that I have been flirting with the idea of allowing my natural gray hair color to grow out. It has been a difficult decision. I got my hair genetics from my father, who I do not recall ever seeing without gray hair. I started going gray at age 16. I have been coloring my hair since I was in my mid-twenties. Heaven only knows how much gray has encroached since then. The prospect is scary. I have been loathe to suck it up and see. I may have no choice in the matter now. Although I believe my hair salon is still open, I just can’t think that touching people all day is the smartest way to manage a pandemic. I think I’ll just have to weather the gray skies (and gray hair!) and see how I feel if it is ever safe to go back to the hairdresser again.

I haven’t applied make-up in a month. Before the outside world closed up shop and we all went under house arrest, I wore make-up most days. It made me feel good to show a little effort. I had more confidence when I knew I was looking brighter than I was feeling. I seem to recall that make-up made my face look brighter and made my complexion look less like cream of wheat. It has been so long that I could be wrong. Nostalgia always makes everything seem better. They say distance lends enchantment to the view and my memories of make-up are pretty distant at this point. Actually, the only way a view of me would be even remotely enchanting right now is if it was VERY distant.

For the past several weeks, I have been dressing in loose, floaty dresses that are cool and comfortable. They make me feel faintly nymph-like. Let’s face it, though; they are one step above a nightgown. Maybe half a step on the days I forgo a bra. However, I am not sure they are doing me any favors. I think I am going to have to start trying on something a little more form-fitting once a week or so to make sure my form is still fitting. After weeks of grazing my way from one room in my house to another, I have a sneaking suspicion that, while I may be flattening the contagion curve, I am not flattening any of my curves. I could be carting around enough curves to build an entire roller under my floaty trapeze dresses.

I’m not sporting any jewelry, either. I have quite the collection of earrings and rings and bracelets and necklaces and watches. Most of them have some sentimental attachment. They delight me and make me smile when I wear them. Since I never seem to go anywhere anymore, it seems like a waste to put them on in the morning. I just have to take them off for the numerous times each day that I wash my hands.

For someone who wrote a blog piece called The Anti-Frump (http://www.terrilabonte.com/2016/11/the-anti-frump/), I have certainly fallen far from grace. Looking in the mirror this morning, I had to wonder where the anti-frump has gone.

I’m pretty sure she is in quarantine.

What is left of my fingernails…. heavy sigh

Have you found yourself following the frump during our days of isolation? How do you motivate yourself to keep on keeping on? Or do you just not bother? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Have a frump-free day!

Terri/Dorry 🙂

The Lentiest Lent

I saw a picture of a church on Facebook. Outside the church, the message board read, “Had Not Planned On Giving Up Quite This Much For Lent.” Ain’t that the truth? Since the world closed up shop in the wake of the COVID-19 crisis, it does seem like this Lent is laying the whole fasting thing on a bit thick. No restaurants. No amusement parks. No shopping malls. No live performances. No group activities. No vacations. No hugs. And I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone giving up buying toilet paper and disinfectant wipes for lent before. This has to be the lentiest lent that ever lent.

Some people say that this pandemic is an omen. They believe the contagion is God’s judgment on a wicked world. They see our current times as the end of times. Maybe they are right. It is hard not to feel some sense of doom in this time of disease and quarantine. The television and internet feeds us, minute-by-minute, on the number of new cases and the number of dead. The curve is growing, not flattening. This is to be expected in the short term, as we test more potential victims. There has not been time yet for people who were initially infected to get well, so the curve is still climbing. Even though this analysis makes sense, it is easy to get caught up in a Doomsday feeling. For those of us who believe that God is all-powerful, it can be an easy logical leap to conclude that God caused the pandemic.

I don’t put any limits on God. It is possible that there is something to the Doomsday theory. I don’t really think God works like that, though. I don’t think He caused the pandemic to eliminate evil and destroy the wicked. I do think, however, that He uses the pandemic to help transform us into the people He wants us to be. Now that we are forced to fast from many of our favorite leisure activities, we have more time to spend in prayer, Scripture-reading, and thoughtful consideration of our life’s purpose and goals. Now that we must forgo human touch, communal church services, receiving the Eucharist, and sharing a meal, we may not take these blessings for granted in the future. Now that the most fun thing we do all week long is zip through the Starbuck’s drive-through (while trying not to breathe), we will be more grateful for those trips to Disney and other more exciting places. Now that we cannot meet with people face-to-face, we are developing our community-building and care-taking skills in more creative ways.

I am one of those people who do tend to get stir crazy and bored when I stay at home for more than a day or two. Weirdly, I am neither right now. I’ve been productive in my weeks of isolation. I’ve overcome some of my social anxiety tics and am staying connected with people. Some of my relationships are even growing richer and closer. I’ve focused my pent-up energy on projects like figuring out a system for conference call and video meetings. I’m writing more. I’ve tackled a few big chores that I have been deferring for months. I’m thinking more than reacting. My mind is not as busy or bustling, but I am thinking clearer. I’ve spent more time with God. I’m working on several prayer projects- praying deliberately and intensely for certain people multiple times a day.

So, while I did not intend to give up so much for Lent, I think God is using my enforced mega-fast to do exactly what Lent is supposed to do. He allows me to partner with Him to cleanse, grow, and ripen my soul. I delight in the paths He shows me during this time. I am trying to follow them because I believe that God has a purpose for each of us and that purpose is unique to each of us. I’ve tried to find that purpose all my life, in every job and relationship I’ve had. The trail hasn’t always been as clearly marked as it is this Lent. Still, I believe God is teaching me in everything I do, so I try to be patient and trust. As the Bible says in Romans 8:28, “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”

This coronavirus lent has been good for my spiritual development. Still, like everyone else, I look forward to the day when it is over. I am excited to face a resurrection of activities and contacts. The sun will shine brighter, and our emotional muscles will be able to take a little rest. We will be able to mourn the losses we sustain, but we’ll also be able to move towards healing in a different way- perhaps with more kindness and care-taking of each other. All this time we’ve spent in isolation prepares us for that day.

But let’s not forget that we have a more immediate, even more beautiful Resurrection to celebrate. We’ve spent the last forty days preparing to rejoice anew that Christ is risen. Sunday is Easter, the most triumphant day in the Christian year. God will remind us again that what we thought we had lost is not lost at all… in fact, it is more brilliant and more wonderful than we can possibly understand. Jesus- through His life, suffering, and death- brought us back to at-one-ment with God. Because of Him, we are God’s adopted children. We are part of a loving, connected, holy family which can never be destroyed. We are never in isolation or quarantine when we follow the risen Lord!

What has lent been like for you this year, in the midst of the COVID-19 crisis? Do you feel that you have transformed in some way, as we approach Easter? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Happy Resurrection!

Terri/Dorry 😊

Pixie Locks

Those of you who have been reading my blog for some time know that I am a bit odd on the inside. I usually frame that oddness with the assertion that there is clearly something wrong with me.

A few days before the country went into house arrest, I did something to smash that frame.

No, I have not all of a sudden become “normal” and quirkless. In fact, I walked a step more squarely into the weird zone. I decided that, if I am odd on the inside, my outside should match. So, at 60 years of age, I got fairy hair. I started with the idea that I would get 20 strands of glittery green and copper silk woven into my hair. As I went through the process, though, it became increasingly clear that I was going to need more… many, many more… pixie locks. Bit by bit, I ended up with over 50 strands. I have so much regular hair that even that inordinately large amount of glitter is still subtle, but a girl has got to know her limitations. I’m afraid I surpassed mine. I have $100 of sparkly strands hanging off my head.

I don’t think I will do this again because it did end up being far more expensive than I planned. Still, I really like the effect. Because it is so subtle, people have to look twice to decide if they really see something there or not. It is like I have some sparkly, magical little secret that only people who pay attention can learn. Many people have complimented me on my fairy hair. It makes me feel bold and brave. My fairy hair catches the sunlight very fetchingly. I like radiating, it turns out. I feel like the fairy hair really does help the way I look on the outside reflect who I am on the inside.

You see, fairy hair has taught me that “odd” doesn’t have to be negative. “Odd” doesn’t have to mean there is something wrong with me. “Odd” can mean shiny, sparkly… and beautiful!

I thought we all needed a little break from coronavirus conversations. What could be further from a worldwide pandemic than fairy hair? What little bit of whimsy can you share with us to take our minds off contagion and disease? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Have a sparkly day!

Terri/Dorry 😊