BY ROBERT RIGSBY

ETIREMENT IS ONE OF THOSE chameleon-like words: it takes its meaning from the context in which it is used. Connotations of good or bad, friend or foe, positive or negative, depend on the surrounding circumstances in which the word finds itself. Neutral in its essence, retirement acquires its definition from its setting.

Rather than try to address finances or mechanics of making retirement "work," my focus is on the meaning of retirement in the larger context of one's entire life, and the mind-set with which one enters this time of life. Intended as a personal reflection, this is not an attempt at an exhaustive analysis.

So Soon?
When faced with someone who appears overeager to retire, the cynic in me uspects that here is a person who hates his or her vocation; that their job brings precious little meaning to their life. The tyranny of the clock is, I would guess, a frustration that everyone has faced at one time or another. Responsibilities and deadlines can and do create a certain tension. But a well-timed vacation rather than outright retirement seems a better solution if one finds general fulfillment from his or her work. Watching my own children relax comfortably and naturally on their Christmas or summer breaks makes me question if at some (perhaps subconscious) level, dreams of retirement are but a wistful longing to recapture the idyllic and carefree days of childhood summers.

Several months ago I was surprised to discover that some of my peers were discussing retirement--their own retirement! I was taken aback. So soon? Why, it seems we're just settling in to the rhythms of balancing work and family and leisure. Sure, I set money aside faithfully in a pension fund, but the nuts-and-bolts issues of when and where and how and even why had been essentially ignored. "I'm still young," I reasoned.

"There's plenty of time to deal with these issues in the future." Yet a quick calculation of the retirement ages being mentioned disclosed the startling reality that my own working career was half over--maybe more!

Reflexively I turned in my mind to my father for some guidance by example. There was none. My dad died in 1986 before he had a chance to retire. Vaguely I recalled his talk of slowing down someday: helping out in the hospital chaplain's department, traveling some--perhaps helping out on short-term mission relief, but nothing more concrete than that. How would he have handled retirement? I've wondered. A busy solo obstetric practice, deep involvement in church activities, demands on his time that kept his place at the family dinner table empty too often--all traded in for what might seem like an overdose of leisure time.

More sobering, though, is the possibility of loss of meaning and purpose he might have experienced. Much loved, respected, and needed by patients and staff alike; the center of the show; the one in authority; the one with whom the buck stopped; his wisdom admired, his advice sought out, his presence stabilizing; all this exchanged for sleeping in, having every meal at home, and wondering what to do with himself.

Was it possible that his own sense of identity and self-worth were so conditioned by his years of dedicated service that when retirement inevitably came he might have suffered a crisis of meaning in his life?

It seems clear to me now that for my dad retirement could have meant a loss of the personal satisfaction and sense of having made a real difference. His attitude of service, extended to all he interacted with, surely brought a feeling of fulfillment to his life. A major challenge for him, then, would have been to recapture the essence of meaning that his approach to work and life gave him: to truly matter in the lives of people. Contrasted with this deep sense of meaning my dad derived from his work comes the awareness that for many, this sort of meaning is absent for their view of work. If work is mere rote drudgery, retirement will be eagerly anticipated as a time to discover and enjoy new meaning.

Separation of Meaning and Work
It occurs to me that the concept of retirement is really a modern phenomena with relatively recent origins. For much of history, life was not divided neatly into the three phases of preparation, production, and retirement. All of life revolved around the gathering of food. The intimate connection between food and work meant "retirement" from this never-ending process of procuring food was simply not an option. In this context, it can be said that the meaning of work was derived from the fact that to work was to live.

With the advances in technology, work became separated from the direct production of one's own food. In a fundamental way, work thus became disconnected from life itself, which opened the door to boredom and drudgery in the workplace. As the loss of purpose associated with a boring job grew, however, modern men and women discovered they had a new way to recapture that sense of meaning apart from work: the use of their ever-increasing leisure time in the pursuit of diversion and pleasure. While this brought a return of meaning to a mundane life, it widened the gap between work and meaning. In this way, leisure time became the source of meaning instead of work. I have often been surprised at the degree to which work is resented, because it is seen as somehow "preventing" more leisure time.

Retirement has come to be seen by some as that grand day when work can finally be disposed of; when all time becomes leisure time. This windfall of leisure time is often anticipated to bring enormous new meaning. If this significance fails to materialize, the result can be bewildered disappointment.

In the identifying of my own fears of retirement, this potential failure to realize the expected enjoyment and meaning ranks very high on the list. (Others would be fear of outliving my finances, fear of poor health, and fear of being alone.) Anticipation is often greater than realization as my dad used to say. I can think of many instances where that was true, but I don't want retirement to be one of them. Primarily for this reason I believe that I must approach retirement with the same sort of strategies and values that I now try to live my life by as a Christian.

A Christian's Approach to Retirement
A fulfilling retirement, then, should be far more than simply having enough interesting hobbies to keep me occupied and entertained. Key, it seems, is the idea that all aspects of my life should be in balance rather than in tension. Work, leisure, pleasure, altruism, exercise, friendships, community, and so on must all interact around a common goal, rather than detract from each other. There must be an overriding philosophy of meaning that unites all facets of my life into a purposeful whole. Christianity for me provides that coherent framework within which I can organize my life.

Foremost in the discovery of meaning and purpose in life is the conviction that worship is the glue that binds all we do into a meaningful whole. True worship is about living in the constant awareness of the worth of God and His kingdom. It is this value that must motivate everything that I do. This is why activities as seemingly different as prayer, playing a game of basketball, and not cheating on my taxes are motivated by the same thing: God is with me, and I seek to emulate His values in all my actions. To be a child of God is to realize that every choice and action reflects on our community with Him. In this way, worship is an attitude toward life that infuses every moment with meaning and purpose. With a clear vision of the reality of God's constant presence, everything we do becomes important. Because every thought and action occur in the awareness of God's holy companionship, those thoughts and actions take on value and meaning.

Stewardship of time is important. Time, when seen as a gift from God, takes on more significance, and its allotment will reflect my priorities; great amounts of time spent on self-indulgence misses the benefits and blessings of applying it more widely. The relatively greater quantity of time I expect to have in retirement means that I have proportionately greater potential for using that time to nurture and support others.

Closely tied with these two priorities (worship and stewardship) in bringing cohesiveness and structure to my concept (and eventual reality) of retirement is the development of a healthy sense of community and my place in it. As I appreciate the inherent value of others, created in the image of God, the privilege of service to this community changes from chore to sacred birthright. The mutual support system of a vibrant community, with each member contributing what they can, brings a great sense of inclusion and belonging to life. With this perspective I can be free to turn my energies outward to help meet others' needs, knowing that at times I too will need the support of the community to which I belong.

The Conclusion of the Matter
Retirement, then, in the mind of this idealistic writer, is the time of life when wisdom accumulated from a lifetime of lessons learned can be shared and lived with my community.

I like to think that my dad would have enjoyed finding ways to continue creating in retirement the sense of meaning that made his life such a special one.

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Robert Rigsby, M.D., is an anesthesiologist at Florida Hospital in Orlando, Florida.