I said I love you and that's forever

And this I promise from the heart

I could not love you any better

I love you just the way you are~Billy Joel(From Just The Way You Are)

One has to admire the bravery of a 21-year-old. I'd just graduated college and drove my brown 1977 Chevrolet Camaro from Texas to California. I went to work as a writer for a magazine, my office nestled in the hills of the San Bernardino mountains, near Los Angeles. I was doing okay on the job, interviewing a variety of people and writing feature stories. My editor assigned me to what he called the "difficult people." He said, "They seem to tell you things." 

But at 21, I was doing much better on the job than in my personal life. I had just been rejected by a man who had proposed to me, and then backed out of the relationship saying I was "too needy." I probably was. And I was sad. Brokenhearted. I kept berating myself for not being able to move on, for not being able to stop thinking about him. Writing the feature stories helped me to detach from the grief during the week, but weekends were lonely. Too much time on my hands. So I drove.

The mountains surrounded me, and often on Saturday mornings I'd get up early, pack a few sandwiches and head out just as the sun rose. My little car hugged the road as I wound myself up the mountainside. I'd turn my radio up and sing. Billy Joel's Just The Way You Are was a hit during that time, and I'd think, "Oh God, I want someone to love me like that...I don't want clever conversation. I never want to work that hard. I just want someone that I can talk to. I love you just the way you are.

Psalms 120-134 all begin with words "A song to take you higher" or "A song of ascent" or "A song of the stairway...One Hebrew manuscript titles them "Songs of the Homeward Marches."~Footnote in The Passion Translation

A time of reflection. Like I've ascended an elegant staircase, run my fingers over the intricate wrought iron as I've climbed up. I'm paused on a landing. Leaning against the banister, remembering the steps I've taken over the years.

How can it be that I'm at this place so quickly? Retirement. I've been thinking about all the people I've worked with, colleagues and patients alike. I've said a thousand farewells already. I've felt the exhaustion of endings. "Even good change brings loss and discomfort simultaneous with hope and glorious anticipation of new beginnings," I remind myself.

Around the age of eight my voice began to get itself knitted up. By the age of sixteen the jamming had got worse, and my shyness wasn't helping things. What does a parent do? My father said, "All right, let's do it together" and I loved him all the more.~C.R. Milne

I gazed out the window, the rain beginning to speckle the pavement, the sky moody. I turned from the window and felt my dangling silver earrings brush the sides of my face. I'd fastened them on my earlobes that morning as a way to dress up the day. I wondered if that was even possible, the rain now pelting the roof. Thunder bellowing in the distance.

My sleep had been poor of late, I'd told my husband. Waking several times in the night, that awkward time in the morning when it's too early to get up, and the mind seems almost too sharp, thoughts scrambling around vying for attention. Then the alarm sounds just as you've drifted off. Not even the sparkly earrings could brighten my face enough to diminish the shadows under my eyes. I'd heard from a number of readers over the last weeks, too, telling me of their skirmishes with life--random accidents that had caused injury and pain, another exhausted from care-giving an elderly parent, job loss, health concerns with family members battling COVID, the enormity of loneliness during quarantine. A hurricane barreling right toward them. My meager problems regarding preparing to retire seemed like nothing. 

As I perused the journal pages, I wrote of wanting a slower pace and honoring solitude. I wrote of deeply desiring to retire early, that the workplace had become too stressful.~Journal entry, July 3, 2020

Announcing my retirement has brought eclectic responses. Some have said, "So early? You're too young." Or, "What in the world will you do now?" Others have said, "Congratulations. I'm happy for you. Now you'll have time to do whatever you want." And then, "It's about time. You've put in your time." 

I've stayed detached from what others say. People have their opinions about life transitions. That's fine. Even with the challenge of practical matters to put in place, I've felt a quiet confidence to move forward. That it's time to place punctuation at the end of the sentence. And I'd punctuate with an exclamation mark. My time as a counselor has been successful. I've harbored in a brilliant port, with fair winds and a good many sunny days. I've had the support of fellow sailors, my colleagues, family and friends who've loved me and championed me. My God has kept me with His grace.

I don't write because I think I have something to say. I write because if I don't everything feels even worse.~Lily King (From Writers and Lovers)

When a book is published, it feels like a birth. I don't remember the years of gestation--the rewrites, the monotonous edits, the labor. What I see is the beautiful brain child with all its uniqueness. A sort of falling in love. A mother bear instinct kicks in, for no other reason than the book is mine.

Writing is primarily a refuge for me, not a burden. I started writing The Light By Which We See in 2016. The manuscript sat idle for months, until in 2017 my oldest sister passed away and I was diagnosed with cancer. The majority of the manuscript was written when I underwent chemotherapy and grieved my sister's death. I discovered that when I could get to the page and write, I was transported out of the grief and despair. Writing the book became my way of escape. The page was always there for me. A retreat and steady companion. I cannot underestimate the peace and grace of God I found when I wrote during this period in my life.