There’s a trick to the “graceful exit.”
It begins with the vision to recognize
when a job, a life stage, or a relationship is over—
and let it go.
It means leaving what’s over
without denying its validity
or its past importance to our lives.
Including one’s home.
Still downsizing …
If only I had the que sera sera serenity of the horseshoe crab—which literally saunters out of its own skin. Leaves home behind.
How the cuts are made
For years, inside the dark
recording booth, alone,
in the electric halo
of an adjustable lamp,
I narrated audiobooks.
Now I survey my archive—towers of babble—60-some books recorded on tape. Cassette tapes, in our digitized age, seem irrelevant.
When the studio switched to CDs, many audiobooks were not updated.
I may own the sole remaining copies.
I didn’t always like the stories, but I gave them my all—honest, empathic, vestigial work, as in: “forming a very small remnant of something once greater.”
Words arise, like posterity. Legacy.
I set aside a dozen classics for our grandkids.
Second thoughts
Might Goodwill welcome the rest?
I pack 50-some titles, deliver them before I can change my mind. Employees may toss them, but I won’t be a witness.
More remain. I visit our hulking, rented dumpster, imagine chucking them.
Second thoughts clamor. I’ll decide tomorrow.
Dreamer, on the other hand …
For decades, Dreamer shot slide film. Last week he tossed unused slide carousels. Second thoughts prompted retrieval. Currently curating thousands of slides, he’ll convert them to digital files.
He’s retrofitting: “bringing a proven model up to date.”
Second thoughts allow fresh discernment.
I scan my waiting titles. I could do likewise …
Needless?
Needless can mean obsolete. Redundant. Superfluous.
Seems I never quite believed my achievements would vanish.
Yet into each absence, the One who loves us best still speaks.
And I love a good story …
… especially one from an ever-relevant Book, narrating tales of a remnant people …
and other wonders, like horseshoe crabs and second thoughts and traveling light.
The One who invites me to be need-less delights to meet my needs.
Those remaining tapes?
I feed the dumpster. Offer up ego. Yet again. There are endless ways to voice “Once upon a time.”
[For now, making the graceful exit] …
involves a sense of future,
a belief that every exit line
is an entry, that we are
moving up, rather than out.
How has a grace-full exit moved you toward an uncommon entrance?
For prayer: Dreamer sees the neurologist next week.
I felt each moment’s choice here because of your glorious gift of conveying sentiment.
Perhaps the collection of these moments will be the material The Artist of heaven will use to create a sculpture for the home He’s building for you.
Carol, thank you! I love that notion and hope it comes to pass. Thanks for envisioning the possibility. It renews my hope. 🙂
Brave one! You fed the dumpster! Attachment is such a tricky process for us mere mortals. I love the photo of Dreamer getting caught in the act. 🙂 Blessings on your work at hand, Laurie, as it continues.
Michelle, how splendid to hear from you today. The depth of your understanding (“Attachment is such a tricky process for us mere mortals”) eases my mixed emotions. I’m picturing those blessings you wish for us carrying us through all that is yet to be done.
Have room in your dumpster for 16 collector cars and a few tons of spare parts?
Smokey, I’m laughing almost too hard to type! Whatchagonna build, friend?
Oh. Laurie:
It made me wince to read you fed the dumpster some of your audiobooks. I remember listening for hours as you recorded them. Did you know we listened?
But, I have said goodbye to that era, too. Sigh.
You were a wonderful reader. Keep those grandkids entertained, eh?
Linda Jo, I had no idea you listened in! — probably best as I might grown self-conscious. 🙂 It was always a joy to close myself into that darkened booth within the lamp’s halo and lose myself in a story.
You used the word “era.” That’s really helpful to me, zooms me out of the scene enough to trace the longer trajectory.
And yes, love love love to read to the littles!
As always, a thoughtful post, Laurie. Though you’ve shared out of your personal experience, your observations are universal for us Baby Boomers. We downsized just four years ago in the process of moving from Florida to Ohio. Yet there’s more to be done! I admire your courage to let go of the obsolete, redundant, and superfluous–your wisdom to recognize what items belong in those categories! As for grace-full exits: I’m remembering one transition in particular from one community to another. Awkward circumstances in the former required grace indeed; God most generously supplied. The next home proved especially delightful as we made friends at our new church. God used THEM to provide for us an uncommon entrance. It’ll be fun to see what uncommon entrance he provides for you and Dreamer!
Nancy, my hat’s off to everyone in the world who has downsized! I’m so sentimental. Committed keeper of the family stories, etc.
And all these decisions . . . it’s discernment on steroids, isn’t it!? So many back-to-back choices in every session of culling and packing.
I do find I’m growing more confident. But I haven’t tackled photos yet. Or the greatly beloved, inherited treasures. Saving those for last. Hopefully my decider muscles will cumulatively strengthen beforehand.
Your story embodies such tact and grace in your retelling. I am glad for the wonderful ways God re-established you. Reading stories like yours hones my hope. Thank you, friend.
Thank you, Laurie. This is a timely read for me on multiple fronts. My love and prayers are with you.
O my dear Elizabeth, thank you for this. Please know my love and prayers surround you and E and the family. What times these are! Such searching forces a-stir in our lives and our loved ones. Moments so sacred, then earthy, sometimes surprising, other times jarring. And each day’s kindly revelations in even the smallest of ways, reminding us we are nudged (even ushered!) inward then onward, by Love, toward a greater surrender. A fuller joy. So so grateful for you.
Laurie,
Every word and thought you share is a blessing. I thank God that I met you! And Bill is so fortunate to share this life journey with you. I’ve been thinking of you guys and praying for your every move to find peace with all of these changes. I await your next writings!
Throughout my life I’ve collected thoughts uttered or written by others , scribbling them on scraps of paper, journals, restaurant napkins, some found on posters, newspaper, magazine articles or books. I’ve dedicated a photo album on my phone just for quotes. When I downsized and moved to HI I struggled with losing these stolen thoughts to my discard pile. Most I kept, thankfully. Here are two short ones to pass to you…Not as deep and profound as some in my collection, but fitting for your situation…
C.S. Lewis said “You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” And good old Anonymous said “Remember, every ending is a new beginning.”
Also heard this thought shared by that old Anonymous again…”There’s a reason that the rear view mirror on a car is smaller than the windshield. It’s more important to look ahead than behind.”
Keep us posted! Love the photo of Bill dumpster diving. After I downsized I had many second thoughts/regrets of things given away. Even went searching the Chicago suburbs Goodwill stores to see if I could find a heavy brass farm bell I gave away to buy it back! Oh my…. I totally feel your pain and understand this process of letter go….Bless you!
Love,
Becky
Becky, I’m grateful for you, too. That was one awesome meal we shared that night, rich in conversation and connection as well as good food. I’m filled with admiration for the many hurdles you’ve crossed! And I love knowing you jot memorable words on whatever paper comes to hand. Great idea to transfer them to an album. I’m so glad most of them survived the move intact.
Thank you for passing on these life giving quotes! They gently put things in perspective. I have such a vivid image of you in the city, searching the stores for the treasured brass bell. May the ongoing ride bring you the equivalent of the brass ring, again and again. And unexpected joys.
Boy I can relate. I have a reel-to-reel recording of my Senior Recital. What do I do with that? And cassettes made at recording studios where I sang other people’s songs. Their stories with my voice.
I have no advice. Only solidarity as you make these difficult decisions.
O Kathleen, I hope you save some of those, especially the Senior Recital. Perhaps transfer them to CDs? Your family seems so close. Your sisters especially might love having the sound of your voice if you “cross over” first.
I’ve saved some cassettes of my live storytelling performances and radio work, thinking the material and perhaps even the sound of my own voice might gently bring me back to lucidity should I go ’round the bend someday. Am I crazy?
I feel your solidarity and treasure it, friend. Thank you.
Ah, sweet friend… This appears to be the beginning of your next book of poetry, that will resonate with all our fellow baby boomers, shedding their own shells. I wonder what you will name the book? Can’t wait to see it in it’s fullness! And looking forward to see you again, one fine day…
Pacia, I was thinking of you in the middle of the night and remembering our time together and missing your company . . . and here you are. 🙂 What a gift to me this morning.
Thanks for reading! And for envisioning more . . . Love to you!