“WANING” (?)

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, “Dwelling in Presence,” January 6, 2024

A pretty quarter moon hovers over me as I write this morning. It is a waning moon, raising the question: What things are waning in my life these days? When I write this blog, I tend to focus on growth and addition, not contraction and diminishment. Perhaps that word, diminishment, is part of the problem. It hints at a lessening, a negative event, when maybe there are many ways that our lives enhanced by becoming somehow less, smaller, more circumscribed.

I am finding that growing older is an experience of waning, at least for me. The most obvious evidence of this is in comparing my appointment calendar of 2022 to the one of 2023. Now the first year of retirement is bound to have fewer engagements than the one before, having little to do with the reality of aging. Also, having major surgery in a year is bound to slow one down. But I did spend whole weeks without seeing anyone at all, except Joel of course. To be honest, that slower pace, having many periods of wide open days, seemed to suit me. It may be that growing older is allowing me to settle into my introverted nature a bit more, withhout an ounce of guilt! I could have been more actively engaged with others, but chose not to.

Accompanying the longer stretches of solitude, came more mindfulness in conversation, and thus the waning of idle chatter, perhaps a more judicious use of words. I have experienced conversation to be more intentional, with a larger purpose than just “talk”. It may be as we age we are less likely to want to stay on the surface with people. Teenage gabfests with friends were very enjoyable as were grad school “debates” about anything, but I really have no interest in repeating them. I feel a deeper urgency to get to the heart of things, to the heart of myself and others, and this seems to require less verbiage and more silences. Does this mean my social self is waning while something else is waxing? I don’t really know.

What else is waning thse days? I wish I could say it is my need to “please” people, but sady that seems to be hanging on. All wrapped up with caring about what others think of me, I’m afraid these will be two of my last ego traits to fall! But the good news is the more I can observe my thought patterns in the silence and solitude, the more I recognize it when these habits take over. I can, if I will it, stop!

One thing that has surprised me as I turn sixty-eight this week is that I have lost none of my drive to grow and perhaps have even increased in my ability to make personal changes. I am learning that the older I become, the less adamant I am to hold on to the old ways I used to think. Growing up I heard a lot about old people supposedly “stuck in their ways.” In my pastoral work I have found this to be more true of the young and the middle-aged than it is of their elders. Now, I am ready to learn new ways of being and thinking, my insistence on former ways is waning. Growing older is much more exciting than I thought!   

TMI

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters

Spoiler Alert! I am about to write about undergarments, so if this is too intimate a topic to come from someone who may be your former pastor or spiritual guide, skip this post. It is what is on my mind, and as you know by now, I always start where I am.

Yesterday, I broke my first retirement promise to myself. I had vowed that I would never wear a bra again! I have hated them ever since my first purchase in adolescence. The feel of anything tight or restricting on any part of my body has always given me a sinking feeling as if I were being punished for something I did not do. Made to sit in the corner, when I longed to run around. People have often asked me why I always wear loose and flowing clothing. No, it has had nothing to do with wanting to hide my body. I just wanted for this body to feel easy and free!

So, what happened yesterday? I was following instructions. The nurses in cardiac care said that women who have bypass would need to bring a front closure bra with good support to aide in healing after surgery. So I went to “City Drawers,” the trendy little lingerie shop in downtown Belfast. At 67, I had my first real bra fitting! First, I was shocked by the actual size I was (now that really would be too much information), and then by the garment I was brought. It had so many eyes and hooks down the front and the back, it looked like an instrument of torture. (No offense to “City Drawers,” the rest of the merchandise looks just lovely!) It took me forever to put it on. The very sweet saleswoman came to check on me. “Perfect” she said. So I left the store with this beige contraption that looked as if it came from my greatgrandmother’s underwear drawer.

When I got home, I took it 0ut of its cute little bag and wondered if this thing was truly going to help me heal. Even looking at it, I feel old and depressed. Luckily, I did order from Amazon two cute nightshirts that button up the front as we were instructed to have. I will not be able to put anything over my head for a while. I do feel like myself in them with lots of room to breathe.

We head down to Portland the day after tomorrow for surgery prep with the operation on Friday. I have been assured that friends will be looking after Joel, who though he never shows it, is a huge worrier, and that I will be accompanied by a boatload of prayers. I have an excellent surgeon and good insurance. So, I guess it is a blessing that my biggest worry this morning is whether I will really have to wear that bra. I will be fighting it with all the strength I will have…