A woman close to me (I will call her Nancy) felt an unfamiliar range of emotions on the day after Labor Day this month. It was the first such date in almost forty years that she was not reporting to a classroom ready to teach the latest group of first-graders. This summer Nancy had retired, completing a long and satisfying career as a public school teacher of young children.

To her it felt strange, almost eerie, to have no fixed agenda for this September day that had for so many years meant the demanding work of introducing her students to their new classroom and her expectations for them. This just-retired teacher tasted a freedom never previously known in her adult life. Now she was at liberty to do what she wanted with her time.

Of course, since Nancy had loved teaching it was inevitable that her relish for the new freedom be mixed with some nostalgia for the many rich experiences that were hers through the years. Only a stoic, walled off from tender human emotions, would not miss the children whom she taught and many of the colleagues with whom she worked.

So, like other major human transitions, this one carried with it bright expectations for the future along with memories of much value from the past. I will always remember my own feelings of elation when I retired from a job in city government for a new career as writer and consultant. For the next few days my feet seemed not to touch the ground. Sudden freedom from an imposed daily schedule and the move to an agenda I could shape by myself buoyed me up with pleasure. And I carried with me many cherished memories of the people I had served and those with whom I had worked.

Of course, with the passage of weeks I felt challenged by the need to set my own course instead of being directed by others. The day can seem long when there is nothing you absolutely must do. You have the opportunity to do what you wish but it can be difficult to know what you wish.

After an initial adjustment, most Americans who retire slip easily into a daily regime that brings them that brings them satisfaction. Surveys show that only a relative few fail to make the transition successfully. The horror stories you hear about people taking to drink for failure to adjust may be true, but they apply to a relative few.

Nancy has already set for herself an informal agenda of activities for which she formerly did not have sufficient time. Like many other retired people, she wants to travel and already has plans for a trip to France and Italy this fall. In addition she plans to audit some courses and wants to extend her already wide knowledge of music, especially opera. Given this woman’s varied talents and enthusiasm for living, she can be expected to develop new interests as time goes on.

Perhaps the most important of her current interests, however, is spirituality. For the last several years she has sought out ways of deepening her spiritual life. That includes finding a spiritual director with whom she can confer for guidance in prayer and other spiritual exercises. Some of the courses she plans to audit are focused on theology and can be expected to feed her spiritual life. Being enrolled in these courses will also introduce her into a new community of people interested in things of the spirit.

The leisure that Nancy has now gained can also allow her time for meditation and other forms of prayer and reflection. Freed to pursue work of her own choosing along with leisure, she can perhaps position herself to practice what my friend Bob Atchley calls “everyday mysticism.”

By that he means “direct, nonsensory, nonverbal experience of the transcendent, the ultimate reality, or God.” Professor Atchley says that people gradually become aware of “a new presence in their consciousness, a presence that gives them newfound wisdom and confidence in the face of questions about life’s meaning.”

Many ordinary Americans have tasted this kind of contact with the spirit and it has made their lives immeasurably richer. The transition to retirement can serve as a propelling force for shifting attention to what is most meaningful in human life.

Richard Griffin