Two quick life lessons from my grandchildren. I have mentioned that I have grandchildren, haven’t I?

Lesson one from my granddaughter, the dancing superstar. Her recital was the other night and she was wonderful. She was dressed spectacularly (and knew it), and she and her classmates were flawless (at least as flawless as six and seven year olds ever are at such things). They hit their marks, did cartwheels, forward rolls, and jumped to the music, all while “Working at the Carwash.” Afterward, I told her that she had been fantastic and I hoped that she felt good about her performance. Her response? “I had fun!”

Lesson two from my four year old grandson, the soccer superstar. He is usually one of the smallest on the field but his super power is speed.

In one of the last games of his season, a kid on the other team knocked him down. Some folks would have started crying and stayed down but my little buddy hasn’t backed down in, well, ever. He jumped up and shouted at his opponent, “Why’d you knock me down?” The other fellow’s reply was the classic soccer response, “Cause I’m a ninja.”

Here’s what happened next. Flash realized that the ball was still live so he kicked it around the ninja warrior and into the net. Gooooooaaaaaaallllll!

Flash then looked at the ninja, stuck his tongue out, and jogged back down field.

My daughter wasn’t particularly thrilled with the sportsmanship but my son-in-law, who understands the intricacies of soccer, explained that was just a four year old’s way of politely saying, “I got your ninja.”

So there it is, some days you are looking good, hitting your marks, and feeling the music of life. Enjoy them. Have fun. There’s no guarantee that things will go that way tomorrow so savor it. Because, some days the ninjas knock you down. When they do, don’t be afraid, stay in the game, the ball is still live, so keep your focus on the main thing. And if you want to, in a good sport kind of way, stick your tongue out and say, “I got your ninja.”

This grand experiment of not working for a living is now coming to the end of its first year. I think it is time to stop dodging the question that I have been asked again and again, “How’s retirement?”

Dodging isn’t really the right word. I actually didn’t know the answer. I needed some time to get my balance. Retirement is a pretty big transition and I wasn’t really sure how it was.

It would seem to be a simple question, requiring a simple and pithy answer, but when my tired clergy brothers and sisters ask it, they look at me like it will break their heart if I don’t tell them that it is absolutely wonderful. So, for their sake, let me start by saying, yep, it’s good.

It’s good to be hugged more often by grandchildren, daughters, sons-in-law, my brother, and my father. It’s good to get, and to be able to accept, more invitations to dance recitals, soccer matches, to play with toy cars, and to go fishing in the pond behind my daughter’s new home.

It’s good to focus a little more on my inner life and less on the structural life of the church. It’s good to be just Jim, to have a beer, and to be able to let it slip that I may not have voted a straight Republican ticket for the last thirty years and probably won’t in the near future, without having to go into defense mode.

In other words, it’s good to rest.

I think that it’s worth noting that when Paul was listing all the things that he had suffered; things like, floggings, stonings, shipwrecks, hunger, and thirst; he threw in “and besides other things, I am under daily pressure because of my anxiety for the churches.” I am not a whiner but if you take it seriously, that pastoring gig can wear you down. Anxiety for the church is a real thing. So yes my tired brothers and sisters, it is good to rest.

But here’s the bad news, even when you are retired, it’s still life. There’s still pain, sorrow, grief, and responsibility. Fathers have strokes, friends die, family members go crazy (and think you have). You’re still human and have to say “I’m sorry” a lot. And, God still interrupts and says, “It looks to me like somebody needs to do/say/be something there and I kinda had you in mind,” and sometimes doing/saying/being isn’t particularly easy. So, it’s still life.

Life. You know, love, joy, sorrow, grief, distress, worry, peace, faith, boredom, breathtaking excitement, beauty, anger, moments of courage, moments of fear, ignorance, wonder, presence. . . life, and it’s good. Always has been, still is.

Not exactly a pithy answer but it’ll have to do.