It never made sense to Dr. Willis. He didn’t understand why I’d want to write silly little pop songs for a living.
So unstable. So unpredictable.
He said I should get more degrees and then teach like he did. He said he didn’t like to teach composition but that adults are supposed to spend their lives doing what they don’t like to do until they get to retirement. Then they can live, he said.
Dr. Willis told me I’d be his last student. He needed just a little more money and then he’d retire. He’d cash in his savings, buy a sailboat and hit the water with his wife.
He actually smiled enough to show teeth when he talked about sailing. I never saw teeth when he lectured on 15th Century counterpoint or the ins and outs of writing for string sections.
Before the end of that semester Dr. Willis was diagnosed with a brain tumor.
He died just before I left Waco for Nashville to write pop songs.
I’ve been retired ever since.
We live more simply than we used to so we can give more freely than we used to and live more fully.
I can take a Wednesday, for instance, and drive my two oldest down the Natchez Trace until we find a nice shady place to park.
We can head off across a creek together.
We can pretend we’re explorers and discover new stuff all around us.
I get to watch my kids watch the world around them while they’re still interested in watching something other than a cell phone.
We can rest in the shade and eat some sandwiches.
We can climb through the ruins of someone else’s past.
We can scavenge old bottles from a hideout and I can tell my kids stories about glass-stealing trolls and goblins while they’re still naive enough to believe me. For a minute.
There’s no waiting for the good life to arrive someday.
No putting off the stuff I like – the stuff that feels like living to me.
Retirement is now.
Thanks, Dr. Willis. Your death taught me how to live.
John says:
Heavy, man.
Jason says:
That’s awesome, Shaun.
Aaron K. says:
*Like*
Reminds me of John Piper’s ‘Don’t Waste Your Life.’
Thanks for reminding me to stay focused on what is important in life.
Lawra says:
Very sobering, but very life-inspiring. I whole-heartedly agree.
Ryan says:
Awesome. Inspiring. Great witness of a father who has perspective.
Yael says:
My brother used to tell me that a witch lived in the tree outside my window. He said if I didn’t watch out she would turn me into a leaf.
Jessica says:
Thank you for such a thought provoking post! It’s made me realize there is much more to life than a paycheck.
Carlos Arellano says:
Good stuff!!! keep them coming!!!
Shayne says:
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Great post.
Amy @ My Friend Amy says:
Great reminder, Shaun!
Margaret Jeffcote says:
Shaun, this is a beautiful message and the pictures are awesome. You are such a wonderful parent and your children are blessed.
Your Uncle Joel also believed in living today and not tomorrow. We did so many wonderful things together and so many memorable trips. The quiet times together were the best. I am trying to continue this example. Have a wonderful Easter.
Jen~Beautiful Mess says:
INDEED!
Amy says:
I agree with this wholeheartedly. I don’t want to wait my entire life to live. I started living a year and a half ago. Many people don’t understand, but when they do, they’ll wish it hadn’t taken so long. †
Kelly says:
I wrote something similar to this earlier this week. I went to visit an older man in our church who was widowed on Tuesday and he talked about he worked all his life and finally retired and bought a suburban so he and his wife could travel and before they could – she got sick and died. I don’t want to wait until I’m 65 to live either. We aren’t guaranteed tomorrow!
Glad you are enjoying each and every moment with your family!
Kristie Wooten says:
That may be the best post I’ve read. Ever.
Rebecca says:
Thank you.
Rob Lee says:
Loved the message Shaun. I try to spend as much time as I can with my wife and kids, but unfortunately, I’m one of the ones who ends up spending “their lives doing what they don’t like to do until they get to retirement.” I too love to write songs and worship God, but I don’t get paid for it, hence the job as a hardware store clerk. Sometimes putting food on the table and paying the mortgage get in the way of truly living.
S. Etole says:
Some of my fondest memories are of playing {and falling} in the creek we played in and time spent outdoors. Your photos are terrific.
Mary Lou Court says:
Love, love, love you! Don’t ever grow up! I love all the stories and what wonderful memories you’re making. Keep enjoying those kids. They grow up too fast. Becky is blessed and so are you. I hope she had a spa day while you were out with the kids.
Shaun Groves says:
And I think she had a grocery day instead, Aunt Mary. ; )
Dad says:
My Daddy, your Grandfather Groves, was a banker – until 5:00 o’clock. Then, he came home to our home on the corner of an 8 acre farm/ranch, where he changed out of his suit and tie, put on his “farmer clothes”, and went about the tasks of milking two cows, and planting and tending to a half-acre vegetable patch. He justified all the farm work by pointing out that we all had fresh milk to drink, home made butter, and plenty of beef in the freezer, and wholesome veggies on the table.
But, really, it was his retirement, which greatly relieved the daily tensions of auditing the bank accounts and being sure that all of the tellers cages balanced out at the close of the business day.
Meanwhile, the remainder of the 8 acres not taken up by the vegetable garden and the calf lot and milking barn was a creek bottom with all of God’s natural wonders that your kids are now exploring. Your pictures take me back home.
What goes around comes around – thank God.
Shaun Groves says:
Amen
Amy says:
Thank you for the reminder to remember what is important & to simplify my life in order to focus on those things.
I thank God for how he has blessed us, but at the same time I also realize (and I need to be sensitive to the fact) that some are not able to afford “retirement” now, no matter how simply they live. I think God can give us joy & enjoyment in the “menial” work, even if we never get to go sailing this side of heaven. Ecc. 3:12-13
Shaun Groves says:
We all want more of retirement now. True, some will have more than others. But everyone can make room for some today, room for a little rest and recharging.
For starters, stop reading these comments, close your laptop and go hug a kid. ; )
Yael says:
*sigh* I’m about as far from retirement as one can get. I’m in university. We picked names from a hat. I’m now doing an essay on the Verse of Chidiock Tichborne. My forehead hurts and my neck aches from hitting my head on the desk-top.
Sorry….I’m blabbing.
Blab, blab, blab…..
Shaun, thanks for providing some sanity in my day.
Janet oberholtzer says:
Excellent post!
I’ve been living in ‘retirement’ the past 5 years after almost dying (literally) from injuries received in an accident at age 38.
“Live like you were dying” (McGraw) … I try to do that!
PS – make sure you blow up that last picture to hang in your house for future years 🙂
David Lindner says:
After the day I had, your post is the perfect reminder to push myself so I can “retire.”
jen says:
What a gift God gave you through Dr. Willis!
Thanks for the powerful reminder!
Beth says:
My dad worked hard all day and then came home to “retirement” too. Often times work came home with him, but it was never done until AFTER all us kids were in bed.
My mom stayed home with us when we were little. She cared for us during the day, but my dad was very firm in his belief that our care was HIS privilege at night. He was the one that always played catch in the back yard until it got too dark to see the ball, bathed us, told us bedtime stories (you know, the one’s about when he was little), got the 17 glass of water, etc. He was always the one who got up with us in the middle of the night too.
My mom taught me to cook, and fold clothes, and bake wonderful cakes and cookies. My dad taught me to play ball and ride a bike and water ski (and change a tire and the oil in my car). My mom showed me what it was like to be a good wife and mother. My dad showed me what I needed to look for in a husband and father for my children.
Neither one lived long enough to actually retire from their jobs, but they sure did enjoy their “retirement” with us kids all the time.
I’m retiring tonight after work too. My daughter and I have some serious cross-stitching to do!
Beth
FzxGkJssFrk says:
Love this post and comment thread, first because I read it with a child already on my lap, and second because I’ve been putting off any serious music recording (my “retirement”) until I could afford it. I’m finally getting started now.
Thankfully I like being a scientist enough that I’m not in Dr. Willis’ shoes.
Lori Jo says:
I love it.