Repurposing Your Life: John’s Unfolding Story

“To have purpose is to make a contribution — to be part of something bigger than yourself.” — Roy Baumeister

I’ve been watching my husband, John, go through something that I think many people experience quietly but rarely talk about: the sudden disappearance of purpose after retirement.

When John was practicing dentistry, he was utterly clear on his mission: to improve the quality of life of each person he had the opportunity to touch. Dentistry was simply the doorway. What he was really doing was loving people — intentionally, attentively, sincerely.

Eventually, he even downsized his entire practice from six treatment rooms to one (with a hygiene treatment room) because he realized that efficiency without presence was not what his soul was called to do. He built a team around that conviction. They knew names. They held stories. They practiced caring and connection and pure hearted love and attention as if it were oxygen.

And then — ten years ago — he retired.

No one told him what happens when your purpose which has always been largely relational — suddenly disappears because the people have disappeared. He stayed busy (he's the hardest working man I have ever met) — but busy is not the same as called. Without fully noticing it, something essential dimmed in John. He knew he wasn't as happy as he had previously been, but it has taken a while for him to put it all together.

After reading the previous blog about purpose and contribution, he looked at me quietly and said, “I think I lost mine.” That is what is going on with me. So what's blocking him living his purpose outside of dentistry? You don't have to have a dental practice to continue on that personal mission of increasing the quality of life for the people you meet. He had realized that eventually. The obstacle?

Fear. But John is working with it. He has decided he wants to be among people again. Still after ten years, he’s afraid he won’t remember their names. And for a man who has always believed — deeply — that a person’s own name is the most honoring word you can offer them, that fear has teeth. It's not just a moment of embarrassment, it is closer to existential terror...that's not much of an exaggeration. It was so very much a part of how he honored people - knowing their names.

John realizes the cruel loop this creates: If he doesn’t go out, he can’t live his purpose. If he doesn’t live his purpose, he feels diminished. The more diminished he feels, the harder it is to go out. Ultimately life feels like it isn't worth living.

But after talking about this, the next day something shifted. He decided not to wait for confidence. He chose his desire to give and contribute over his fear. He let his intention lead the way.

As we drove down Flowery Divide, he quietly held on to his mission —to improve the quality of life of others in his sphere - it didn't have to be in his dental practice. He decided to set a very specific intention (actually we both did) of positively impacting at least ten people. We weren't sure if we would meet ten people. But we started to realize pretty quickly that people were everywhere, we just had not noticed how many were around until we set our clear intention.

We stopped the car and chatted with our neighbor. We smiled and waved and thanked the orchard worker among the trees. When we got out to walk, we noticed three children selling twigs and leaves as “autumn forest treasures.” We had to buy some. How fun was that?!

At the coffee shop, we checked in with two really awesome friends doing incredibly wonderful things in the world— and those conversations led to another almost miraculous conversation with someone we knew sitting nearby who stopped to say hello. (We were sitting with Rueben Mayes, the former Seahawk player, who works with Seattle Children's Hospital as they are expanding their presence in the Wenatchee Valley. The person who stopped by to chat turned out to be the wife of a man who has a rare immune disorder which is being successfully treated and monitored at Seattle Children's Hospital. Supposedly he is the oldest patients they have ever had. We were all shocked by the beautiful synchronicity.)

Afterwards as we left the coffee shop, we paused and struck up two conversations with strangers and two with people we knew. It was exhilarating. And the day was only half way over!

Sure some people passed us by today. Paid no attention, not interested in receiving our gift. Others just smiled. But a sincere smile is not nothing.

What surprised us both is that a clear intention is what set everything in motion. (A nod here to my friend, Dr. Gene Sharratt, who preaches this sermon and practices this better than anyone I know.)

John is learning something that I suspect many of us must learn again and again in various situations: the point is not to eliminate fear — it is simply NOT to let fear decide. Fear can ride in the car - it's a part of being human. It just can’t drive our lives.

At 81, John isn’t trying to “find” his purpose again. He is choosing to give it again, one act of connection and care and pure hearted love at a time.

None of us have to wait for confidence or our old selves to show up again before we begin living a repurposed life. Today — or tomorrow morning before you step outside — simply set one intention:

Whose life might I quietly improve today — even in the smallest way?

It might be one person. It might be ten. It might be a smile, a name remembered — or even just your presence fully given.

Let fear exist — but don’t let it lead.

Purpose doesn’t always arrive as a grand calling. Sometimes, it simply begins as a decision undergirded by intention.

How might we journey together to the good life by remembering that purpose is something we give — even when we feel unsure or afraid?

SIDEBAR: Know You Still Have Purpose — Even If Your Mind Isn’t What It Used to Be

If you sometimes forget names, lose track of words, or feel slower mentally than you once were — please consider this: Purpose does not depend on perfect memory. It depends on willingness to...I guess the word might be "bless" each other. John and I have thought about getting a t-shirt made that says, "Memory is overrated." And believe me, when I say that many, many, many people tell us that their memory is a problem for them. We are not alone by any means.

Some of the most meaningful contributions do not require sharp recall or fast thinking:

• Warm eye contact — making someone feel seen.

• Trusting another with your gratitude — “It means so much that you’re here.” (One woman comes to our weekly community meals. She always comes late. She tells me, "I just came to tell you how cool it is that you and John do this." Really how cool is it that she makes a special trip down to just tell me that!

• Offering encouragement — “You make this community better.” (See the previous bullet point.)

• Praying quietly for someone — without needing the right words.

• Letting someone else talk — and truly listening. (John is a great listener. His mother was the best listener I ever met even when she developed dementia. Listening is absolutely underrated! See the blog on the grandmothers' bench to remind yourself of the power of listening.)

• Smiling first — even if you don’t remember their name.

You don’t have to “keep up.” You simply have to show up — with positive intent. Purpose doesn’t begin with perfection — it begins with presence.

More SIDEBAR: When Your Career Is Over — But You Know You’re Not

Many people secretly fear that once their professional role ends, their usefulness ends too. That is simply not true. A career was just one form of contribution — not the only form.

Here are ways people I know have meaningfully repurposed themselves after their official work was done:

• A former engineer helps kids learn how to refurbish old bikes... and has become a quiet source of community morale.

• A grandmother makes it a practice to smile, to sit with, and to talk to kids and teens at the Cashmere Community meal — and writes down those things in her phone to help her remember one thing about them, not just their name.

• A former minister walks the neighborhood each morning, praying silently for every house he passes.

• A retired teacher invites teens to teach her how to make music videos — not just so she can “stay relevant,” but so they can feel valued as teachers.

There are so many more. Margie Kerr, who calls herself "a volunteer" and makes it sound like the biggest, boldest, most awesome job on earth, the long term Make A Difference Day community coordinator (she resists the title of "founder" though I say she is really the founder; she claims it was all the idea of USA Today, but she has made it truly happen and helped Wenatchee win the award from USA Today for many years) who hates for me to mention her name, has been assisting folks on their repurposing practice for many moons. She has a million ways to re-connect in some form with what you want to give. I have told her she needs to write a book.

Purpose doesn’t disappear — it transforms. You and I and John are not done. We are simply being asked a quieter, braver question: What might love (or blessing or caring or contribution... whatever word we would put in this space) look like now — from here?

(In our Stay Active and Independent for Life class, we often end with making a fist and then stretching out our hands while saying "blessings, blessings, blessings..." aimed to each individual in the class. I have yet to see a class that did not end in smiles after this.)

Stay tuned...we'll definitely continue our life-time journey together with this one...

 People adding some fun around Cashmere. People in Cashmere go all out with creativity at Halloween (I am not one of those who thinks it is evil...though I do know sometimes people can eat too much candy and do some naughty pranks). If you want around the downtown area, you will see that a lot has gone into revealing what scares us as human beings. It also ushers in the Day of the Dead and All Saints and All Souls Day. Anyway here are a couple of people I saw trying to add a little dash of fun and creativity...which I count as a good thing to do.

Rick Evans and his dog, Aggie. The Evans have patiently helped Aggie become a "good dog" after suffering a tough earlier life. She didn't bark or bite me, but instead seemed to be enjoying the day.

"Good witch Glenda" (aka Marie Romero) at SAIL (stay active and independent for life) class at Cashmere Community church.