On Second Chances

And retirement

I believe God’s primary source of income is the business of second chances.

The first time I was a stay-at-home mom (SAHM) the combo of solitude (e.i. loneliness) and the relentless barrage of diapers and dirty fingers nearly killed me. Surely I was made for more than this, even though my religion and culture communicated otherwise. Surely God wanted to use my stories of addiction, cancer, death, glory, healing, and love to help others feel less alone.

I yelled a lot because I resented a lot. I ate a lot because I felt a lot. I scrolled a lot because…because.

God did want to put my story to use. I eventually left my green-shingled dungeon and its lovely garden. I started a massage and bodywork clinic that specializes in holding peoples’ cells and stories. I’ve trained others in the art of decoding and re-writing those stories, down to the level of DNA. My wildest dreams, the ones that felt like impossibly large beasts roaming around my heart and mind, seem very manageable now.

And that’s what I do—manage the office from afar. Retirement looks like folding sheets and creating invoices.

This has offered me a second round of SAHM-hood. One for which I am very, very grateful. My restlessness and boredom were alleviated by the knowing that “I did it.” I tamed the beasts, created the protocols and materials. They roam freely, grateful for the opportunity of realization and care.

Losing most of my expendable income, the fun money, has felt tough. The practice brings in just enough, for now; but I care much less about manicures and skincare since this new unraveling. The first time around, grocery shopping with four young children was a thing of nightmares. Four nap and feeding schedules!? This time, they learn about multiplying decimals while I stroll through aisle after aisle. Grocery day is my favorite day, minus inflation.

Instead of playing catch-up, I’ve learned how to just—play. Who gives a shit about the way they fold the dish towels? I used to care about so many little things that they produced, altered,  and destroyed. Now I just care most about keeping their hearts and bellies warm and whole.

There is new herd of beasts galloping up from the horizon. They are larger, they will require a more rigorous practice of presence, devotion, and prayer—a pause. From a distance I can barely make out a non-profit, a podcast, public speaking. Yes, their forms will clarify the closer they get.

Another second chance. Thanks God.

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