Yesterday was supposed to be the finish line. Instead, it felt suspiciously like the starting linE

I walked out of the office at 3:30 PM.  Done. Officially RETIRED.  I  took the elevator down and walked to the parking garage.  Then I put the gifts (oh the gifts) under the hatch of my car and opened the driver’s door and stepped inside.  When I put my hands on the steering wheel, I couldn’t breathe for a minute.  My brain wasn’t racing, but my entire body felt odd.   I should have felt peace, but I didn’t.

With my work responsibilities behind me, I was on my way to the bar where my son bartends to check in with him, followed by dinner with friends we haven’t seen in ages. I had expected to feel calm and peaceful, but that wasn’t the case. I still had three tasks to complete that night, and there were at least 500 more to tackle over the next five weeks. The most pressing concern was where we would stay once the movers arrived on the last day of the month until we were ready to begin our journey to Florida. In less than five weeks, the movers would take all our belongings that we wanted to keep, pack them up, and head to Florida. The following day, the estate sale team would come in to prepare everything else for the sale. We have a cat and a dog and will have no place to stay until the 8th or 9th of September, when are able to embark out of New York.

So, now I’m wondering how others have done this as every move I have ever made in the past was always:

The moving van takes our stuff, we clean the residence, spend a night in a hotel, get up in the morning and then hit the road to the next location. This time was completely different. I was in a quandary and began to think about what the Bible has to say about finding peace in chaos. I literally Googled “Finding peace in the midst of chaos” and found several examples of verses that hit on the subject. But this verse really spoke to me:

“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”

— Jeremiah 29:11 (KJV)

My husband had this idea that we should just camp out amidst the chaos.   I knew that would push me over the edge.  He was reluctant to go to a hotel and spend the money.  I had to say “No! Please, let’s do something differently.” 

A year ago, my dad had the ‘final’ diagnosis of incurable bladder cancer and, and honestly, I thought we would be reaching the end of his journey about now, not back in February.  I thought I wouldn’t retire until 70. I thought we’d be in this house until I was at least 70. None of these were the way things turned out.   So many unexpected ends this year.  And then, thinking on it more,  none of them were evil.

I am writing this blog because a couple of friends suggested it.   One of my life goals is to be a published author.  But, as seems to be the theme of my life, things had very different plans. It has been decades since I wrote daily.

My friends suggested I do this as a way of sharing everything that is happening as part of this ‘New Adventure’—a way of sharing this next chapter of life. At first I thought, nope.   Then I prayed over it and decided, YES.  This will be positive, however it goes, wherever this leads, it will be positive.   

Peace is what I crave amidst this chaos.   I have written about Shalom before, and although Shalom translates into Peace, Shalom is so much more.  It means wholeness, completeness and a restoration of what is broken.

For the past few years, Shalom has been a distant memory—an elusive thread hanging in the ether. 

After praying over the temporary housing situation, my husband and I both were looking at Airbnbs.  

Last night, I found one that will take both the cat and the dog and give the two humans and two furry members of our family… a quiet place to “be” for the eight or nine days between the day the furniture leaves New York and the day we embark on our journey to Florida.

As I write this first entry of my new blog, I am feeling Shalom for the first time since last August. A full year and a bit more. The year of duty and observing suffering, of feeling so much loss and being confronted with so much more loss and upheaval that I wanted to climb into myself and never come out again.  Shalom will take my soul back to where it needs to be.  The rest of me will follow.