My husband Michael doesn’t have a retiring bone in his body. Nonetheless, after thirty-seven years of faithful service to the same agency, last year he tendered his resignation and retired on December 31st.
And boy, am I excited! No more solopreneur stuff for me. No, siree. Isn’t the whole point of marriage companionship? I’ve envisioned adventures ad infinitum for Michael and me to pursue in tandem—from writing and speaking on marriage, gym workouts and bike-rides, travel, and cooking and dance classes. Vive variety!
Wisely, Michael is taking a hiatus before plunging headlong into my plans for his new life, catching up on house repairs, decluttering, and trying to organize his beloved wife of forty years: moi. (That may consume his lifetime).
So reluctantly, I’ve acquiesced, realizing that everyone needs a timeout to regroup during major life transitions—especially as significant as moving into one’s legacy years.
But I also know that after reflection comes risk. I don’t want to push Mike into doing what he doesn’t desire to do. Yet I also see gifts in him that he doesn’t recognize, and if I know anything about legacy living, I know that now is the time to make a difference for God’s kingdom. And as married partners, we can have greater impact serving God together. As both Michael and I enter a decidedly autumnal decade, we need to relish every magnificent moment, living colorfully and daringly. Our time here, our time together is evanescent. Are we making the most of our days?
So I’m dusting off a poem called “Invitation To Dance” that I wrote for Michael two Christmases ago, reminding him that now is the time to dream and to dare.
That autumn before I’d presented it to him, Michael and I were picking apples at a local orchard and for reasons I can’t explain, a sudden urge swept over me. I don’t know if it were the invigorating air, or the apples’ pungent scent, or the rows of trees queued up like participants in a line dance, but I had to enter in. I had to dance—just dance, oblivious to how I looked, unintimidated by who was looking, uninhibited by what I feared. I longed to grab my partner’s hand and weave a waltz through a trellis of trees.
But Michael wouldn’t dance. He wouldn’t enter into the moment, because he thought he couldn’t. And despite my coaxing, and my “It-doesn’t-matter-whether-or-not-you-think-you-can-dance-or-who-might-be-watching” plea, he was immovable.
Mike would. not. budge.
And it’s at that moment, that I knew this was more than an invitation to dance. I was daring him to enter a reckless adventure, to kick up his heels in delight, to abandon rules without thinking, to move without knowing the steps, to risk looking foolish when people gawked, to live far away from the guidelines and sidelines of life.
So I’m extending my invitation again as Michael and I seek to live out our legacy years. Somehow, I have the feeling that we are going to do a lot of dancing through life together.
Editorial Note: The painting to which I allude in my poem is called “Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose,” by British mid-nineteenth-century artist John Singer Sargent. Not satisfied to paint by memory, he gathered all his supplies, hauled them outdoors, and painted at dusk—that ethereal, twilight hour when sunset melts across the skies, fading quickly to black. Desiring to paint in an Impressionistic manner, using only natural lighting, he worked feverishly, taking advantage of those fleeting, magical moments. It took two years to complete the painting, and he gave his all during those few moments each day. I saw a metaphor in how he worked.
for Michael, with love and urgency
“I don’t dance in apple orchards,” you say,
with a straight face, then a smile,
but all the while, my hand extends to yours.
“Come,” I say, “please dance.”
But you won’t bend.
“I don’t dance in apple orchards,” you stress.
And then, you wink.
But dare I ask again?
I know that you are resolute,
and I know that life will end
in an absolute blink, in the time it takes
for these apples, weighty with August’s wine,
to loosen from limp stems in a gust of ruthless wind
and fall and bruise and roll and roil into bubbling decay.“I don’t dance,” you say.
But if not now, then when?
And if not here, between these choreographed rows of
red-lanterned trees, festooned for plein-air dance
(like Sargent’s lanterned garden all aglow with twilight),
then where?
The painter highlights the evanescent hour,
and daily, feverishly dances transient light onto canvas,
knowing magic soon will end.
Is it possible to compress beauty?
Yes.
He does.
We must.
I dare to ask again:
Will you thrust yourself into my arms
and commence this pas de deux?
Don’t fret about the steps.
Let the magic lead . . .
All life’s a dance
begging you to enter in,
to move in its embrace.
Take your cue:
Trace how the apples dance from breeze-swayed boughs,
before they fall.
They whisper,
“Now.
Please, now.
Please now.”
Lynn D. Morrissey
Latest posts by Lynn D. Morrissey (see all)
- Taking Wing – Letting Go and Release - May 23, 2017
- Living Sidetracked or On-Purpose - January 24, 2017
- The Mishaps of (Meno) Mentalpause - September 20, 2016
These words -> “feverishly dances transient life onto canvas.”
So picturesque of what I want to do in this season. There’s a fervency that is a gift from God, and I believe that it is consistent with the rest He offers, because when we are caught up in Him, we are fully engaged and yet fully at rest. This is my prayer for you and Michael as you enter this next phase of your life together. Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem from your heart.
Lynn, that is beautiful! Thank you for sharing. I know you will relish every moment of the “dance of retirement” with Mike.
Beautiful poetry, and full of feeling, Lynni!
But these guys that won’t dance…
Mine won’t dance in… the kitchen! When no one else is around! He certainly could. All these years. He’s fit and agile enough. But his bones and muscles, and steel will, are… well, stubborn. So I have to decide if I’m going to spend (waste?) my time trying to cajole him into something, or just go ahead and do it myself, and figure maybe that will influence him in that beautiful direction… or not, but I am not hindered, but dancing…
Beautiful, sweet friend! Often, I’m the one who won’t dance, whether it’s Jesus or someone else asking me to step out and be courageous — do something daring! I know it could be fun, it could be beautiful, it could be oh-so-meaningful and significant in ways I can’t even imagine. Yet fear holds me back. But I don’t want to miss my chance to be part of the dance. Thanks for this reminder today…
Ah, Lynn, this is the sweetest. I am learning that all the new seasons of life hold their own particular kind of beauty. I pray you and Michael dance long into the night!
We share even more my dear. I also throw caution to the wind and invite my often stoic reserved partner to move across the room on golden dancing legs and he usually declines. But when he gets up and embraces the magic, something inside me comes alive. I would love to see you two dancing. I know it would be grand or a hoot! ❤
I’ve been thinking along these lines lately and wanting to blog about something similar… that we not think of ourselves as “old” or “doddery” just because we reach a certain number, not think of life as being “dreamed out” past time to dream, but see these next years as a second chapter full of new dreams! Love your poem (which I recall from your newsletter, I think!) and all you write here. And love the dancing metaphor too… Beautiful, Lynn!
Michele, what a beautiful response. Thank you. Much of what you say here is quote-worthy! And I love this idea of being fully engaged, yet simultaneously fully at rest. It’s a paradox of sorts, and I think you are echoing a Sabbath theme here. And surely, as each of us Consilium ladies (I like the idea of calling us legacy ladies) continues in her walk with Jesus, we want to be fully engaged to live to the utmost in His purposes, but resting in His strength alone.Thank you so much for commenting and sharing your wisdom!
Love
Lynn
Hi Laura
I love that: the dance of retirement. We are not dancing yet, but we are taking two-mile-plus walks together daily. I thnk that that counts, don’t you? 🙂 I love having Michael home. Thank you for reading and for your kind wishes!
Love
Lynn
Sylvie,
Thank you so much for your kind words about the poem. I love writing poetry, though I don’t know it much. My late friend wrote a poem a day to the tune of over 12,000 in a body of work (but that is another story). Oh! Men! I can just feel your husband’s resistance. He and Michael are two peas in a pas de deux pod!!! I wrote another funny little story about how he left me standing alone on the dance floor . . . but as I said, THAT is another story! 🙂
Love
Lynni
Christin, my sweet friend! Thank you for sharing from your heart. Truly, I get this. We are all invited by the Lord to get up from our seats and get out on the dancefloor. I don’t dance well, frankly, so I fear too (lots of things–not knowing the steps, dancing to the beat of a different drummer, stepping onto unsuspecting toes, eyeing and envying those who dance better, fearful of those who are watching because I don’t want to make a fool of myself. I could go on). But oh, the adventures I miss when I say no–the exhilaration of movement, the gorgeous music, lovely settings, new friends, new dance steps, etc.). I don’t want to let life pass me by b/c of fear, and I know you don’t (actually, you have written about fear in your wonderful book What Women Should Know about Letting It Go! 🙂 ). So, I’m so glad we are in this dance called life together and willing to cheer each other on. Thank you for being such a wonderful cheerleader for me!
Love
Lynni
Laura,
I so appreciate your taking the time to read and to wish Michael and me well in this new season. I know you have entered a new one of your own, and I love seeing where the Lord is taking you. I especially love reading your words dance across the page–an art of its own. Wishing you so well in this dance called life.
Love
Lynn
I remember this! So easy for me to relate to Michael from a man’s perspective. It’s a wise person that ponders before leaping… or leading. Enjoy the dance that is now before you. He’ll dance. He loves the Father and his bride.
Such a lovely poem, and a beautiful backstory about the apple orchard and that painting. I understand the longing for these years to be the best years and the urgency to live them to the fullest.
Oh yes, hoot, is right Kelly!!! Actually, I wrote another piece about Michael called “I Do Dance–Just Ask Me” (a twist on I Don’t Ask, Don’t Ask Me), because I do dance (such as it is, and Michael doesn’t). It’s a cute article. But golden legs (other than very cute legs) he doesn’t have! I can just picture you and Stan (even though I’ve never met him! 🙂 ) But he married you, so he has to be great. Keep dancing, Kelly Ann, and asking Stan to. You are a dynamic team and the dancefloor of life is all the more wonderful, because your marriage is golden. Something in your description reminded me of the new Cinderella movie and that gorgeous dance she and the Prince do. So tell your prince to get off his royal highness :-), and get on out that dancefloor. In case you are wondering, Kelly, this is a stream-of-consciouness response!
Love
Lynni
Thank you so much for these generous words, Elizabeth, and for commenting also about the backstory. I think there is a backstory to every situation in life, and it helps us to make sense of it. I love you and your beautiful writing, so I know there are many marvelous backstories in your own life. Glad this one of mine resonated. I can tell you are seizing every moment and squeezing out all the joy your life has to offer!
Love
Lynn
Aw . . . that is so sweet, Floyd, about Mike loving his bride. Amazingly, I know he does, and I can assure you, I deserve it not! Great advice about leading and leaping (and love the assonance and alliteration, of course!) I guess you have to leap before you lead, right? You have to get out there and try. I love seeing your leadership with your wife and daughters and in your writing career. Your words often dance with humor and wit, but always undergirded by the sound foundational “dancefloor” of God’s truth. Keep leaping and leading and sharing, Floyd! You’re the best!
Love
Lynn
Pam, thank you for your ever gracious words, and also for your timely and deep insights. Yes, you have it totally right. We must keep dreaming, b/c God keeps giving us dreams, and, with no expiration date. As you say, I do think He gives us new dreams once former ones are accomplished. His supply is endless. Glad you liked the dance metaphor. Your words always dance straight into hearts w/ their lilting lyricism. Thank you so much for stopping by!!
Love
Lynn
Stunning Lynn!! Absolutely beautiful, tender, poignant, urgent poem! What love between you both, I sense how you compliment one another which always makes a dance so graceful!! Bless you!
Oh Kathy, you are so sweet, and very generous, I might add. Thank you. Michael and I are opposites if ever there were ones, and yes, I guess we do complement each other in that sense (although he surely is my better half). We just got in from a lovely near-three-mile walk. I love that he has retired. He’s so much fun, and makes me laugh daily. We may not be dancing yet, but the walks and talks are great. Thank you again for your very kind words!
Love
Lynn