Flag Flying

 

For the month following the death of President Carter, flags are to be hung at half-mast, to honor him and express a nation’s grief. However, in the middle of this month of mourning comes the inauguration of our new President, who did not want the flags around Washington to be hanging in mourning for his big day. So for one day, they will fly full on, and then the day after his inauguration, will go back to half-mast.

There is an ironic appropriateness to this, the nation in mourning the day after the new President is sworn in. Many of us felt this election result was like something had died. For me, it was one more item in a year of sadness. The fact is, my life has been flying half-mast for several months now.

In the past year two close friends lost their husbands, I lost my sister and the mother of another close friend. That’s a lot of loss, especially my sister. In addition to these deaths, I retired in June. I decided it was time, and set the day several years ago. Little did I know the timing would be so complicated. On top of these many deaths, my remaining sibling decided to move out of state. I have been flying at half-mast.

My goal all summer was to try and complete at least one project a day. For the most part, I succeeded, if you count cooking a meal a project. Most of the time I sat and read or played Spider Solitaire or Sherlock Holmes. I grieved the losses. On a lot of days I struggled to stay awake. September came, and where I had returned to school every fall for 30+ years, this year I stayed home, and continued the summer’s routine. People came to visit. We took a couple of trips. I cooked and baked and made bookmarks and candles, painted furniture and went out to lunch with friends. And I grieved.

Just before the holidays I began to have more energy, and actually enjoyed buying Christmas presents and decorating my house. We hosted our annual party. But as Christmas day landed, and my sister’s absence was deeply felt, I sank back down again. Three weeks later and I’m still flying half-mast.

Everyone wants to know how I’m spending my retirement, what new projects I’ve begun or new job prospects I have in mind?  I’ve got nothing, beyond reading and writing and occasional creative projects. At first it bothered me that I didn’t have a better story to tell. But now I realize the grace I’ve been given to have retired this particular year and have the time to walk through my grief, and share that walk with the others in my life who have lost as well. After a life time of being a workaholic, I’ve been forced into living at half-mast, and I’m not the worse for wear. Anxiety has been a constant companion for decades, and now that I have nothing to angst over, I still can manufacture a worry. So I am thankful I don’t have any real worries or significant responsibilities beyond laundry and groceries, making dinner. You can do those things while half-mast.

Flying at full height requires a lot more energy, but half-mast isn’t passive – you still flutter in the wind and dance around the pole, just not as high. Half-mast alerts people to the fact that something major has happened in the world, and we need to stop and notice and give it time.  When at full-mast (is that the term?) we just take flags for granted, unless the wind is really blowing. It’s been good to have this time to heal, and not be expected to fully perform.

During this time I’ve read two particularly helpful books. The Good Gift of Weakness by Eric Schumacher, and Knowing the Truth of God’s Love by Peter Kreeft. Both books laid the groundwork for healing in my life, as well as a lot of thought for living once this time is past. We have this idea that we are invincible, always flying unfurled at the top of the pole. But storms and wind and tragedy strike us all. God has been very faithful to me during this difficult time, but I doubt I would even notice if I only relied on my strength. The forced weakness of grief has allowed God’s love and strength to fill in the weak spots. At full-mast I sometimes can convince myself I don’t even need God, or only think about it occasionally. But when you are forced to fly at half-mast, you are forced to see how crazy it is to think you are ever really strong or in control. God’s love and strength have been the support on which my flag flies. The real trick comes in continuing to lean on that support no matter the circumstances. When we feel strong, it’s easy to believe we have everything at hand. The truth is, we never do. Truth is, we need the pole if we are going to fly at all.

I don’t know what my life would have been like if the only change I encountered last year was retirement. But losing so many people I loved has taken its toll and impacted “retirement”.  Being forced to fly at half-mast has given me time to ease into my new life. I’m learning it’s ok to not be busy all the time. It makes it a lot easier to find time to be with friends, or work on long put-off projects.

I know at some point my flag will make it back to the top of the pole. Until then, I won’t be embarrassed about living at half-mast. My weakness allows God’s strength to be at full-mast. And I needed to be reminded that flags can’t fly, half-mast or full, without a pole. I placed my flag on God a long time ago and have found Him to be utterly faithful, half-mast or full.