Mary Betz shares the pulling of heartstrings that accompanies making decisions for the future.

Grandparenthood

Holding our first grandbabies last October — one four-and-a-half months, the other six weeks old — was a taste of heaven. The indescribable warm downy feel of their little heads under my chin, their tiny bodies, their scent — all those things had not changed from the sensations I cherished when their mothers were my newborns 37 and 35 years ago. There was the same walking with and singing to the unsettled baby and burping the satiated one.

And there was a difference. As the grandmother I watched the way each set of parents worked in sync, with or without words, to care for their baby’s needs, and observed each parent’s special bond and way of relating to their offspring. What gifts of welcome, warmth, care and pure love they offered their little boys.

In return — and far beyond return — the new babies offer their parents that unique, though transitory, gift and responsibility of being absolutely needed by another human being. They gift to parents, grandparents and increasingly to others, trusting attentiveness and those endearing smiles and sudden uproarious laughs that melt all hearts. They also unknowingly draw their extended family closer together.

Relationships by Distance

We had come together from three countries and across the Pacific — Australia, Aotearoa and Canada. A few generations ago, families separated by immigration might never see one another again and would rely only on letters for continued contact. Even when I came to Aotearoa 35 years ago, letters were my primary way of keeping in touch with family and friends, as long-distance phone calls were prohibitively expensive. Not everyone had PCs and email yet, and to fly back meant a few years of saving up.

Now, although I lament the geographical distance between our families, we have the formerly unimaginable luxury of being able to video chat for free anytime with various devices and can share precious photos and videos via email. It means that when those precious babies begin to roll over, grab their toys, suck their fingers, “sing” or “read” along with their parents, we grandparents can be part of it in real time.

Yet it is hard saying goodbye, and the end of each Skype chat tugs at my heartstrings. I want to be there more than just virtually. Technology is great, but it’s less than “being there”. We lack the touch, smell and awareness of others’ larger context — the fuller reality of “being there”. Many people found the same thing during Covid: much work could be done remotely, meetings could be held online, time and energy were not wasted in travel or the running of offices, but the “being there” factor was missing. Human relationships (with family, friends and colleagues) can be maintained digitally for a time, but something is not quite the same.

Ageing and Retirement

Last month I celebrated with friends the milestone of turning 70. The windows and doors were open wide to the summer breeze and we spread out on the balcony and patio to keep any Covid at bay. It was a wonderful opportunity for many (mostly older) folk to meet over festive food, punch and bubbly and catch up — for some it was the first time since the BC (before Covid) era. Again, that sense of being there bodily was at play. As much as Zoom meetings sustained various groups of us during the pandemic, there is no way that the comfortable feel of togetherness, the warmth of conversations, and sharing of food and drink could possibly be duplicated online.

Last month also brought the final paycheque for my husband, Peter, who has retired after many years of teaching, ministry and dairy research engineering. For him, there is the usual kind of to-do list of jobs around the house and section, and extra time for reading, watching YouTube science and technology videos and e-biking. For me, it raises questions about how long I will continue preaching, spiritual companioning or even (but probably not!) writing. For us both, it opens the possibility of travel and the challenges of keeping resultant carbon emissions to a minimum, the opportunity to become a one-car family and the idea of downsizing our house.

Life Alternatives

For many people, the move to a smaller home is not a huge issue, especially if their family and friends live in the same city, or at least in the same country. But for us, the issue is not only what kind of a house to look for, but where. Both of us have friends and have lived in a number of places in New Zealand and, for Peter, his whole family of 12 siblings and their many descendants are in this country. We have lived for nearly 22 years in Auckland and are connected into several communities here. But I have only lived half of my life in Aotearoa, and have friends and family all over North America, particularly in British Columbia.

Which brings us back to being grandparents. People say: “Don’t follow your children” but what if I am faced with the prospect of not “being there” for them and their young children, and am actually free to lessen that distance of almost 12,000 km?

There would be hurdles: negotiating new rules for superannuation and taxation, (re-)establishing residency, medical insurance and practitioners; (re-)learning another country’s language usage and cultural expectations; gradually finding new friends, Church and other community. There is also the wrench of leaving a loved home in beautiful native bush, a long-standing Eucharistic community, many friends and family here. At our ages, what would all that be like?

Discernment

Ignatian spirituality offers us ways of discerning when equally good and attractive alternatives present themselves and there is no obvious reason to choose one over the other. Ignatius gives feelings priority when it comes to discernment — in your heart of hearts, is there a decision which will give you a deep sense of peace?

Sometimes simply waiting until a choice becomes clearer is a good way to proceed. Another way is to logically list pros and cons (a good thing to do even if we have strong feelings toward one direction over another): this may be especially important when two people are involved in discernment together. Other ways include asking ourselves questions: if I were looking back as a much older person, which direction would I choose? Or, if a best friend were in my situation, how would I advise them to look at this decision?

We are not the only ones, of course, who face decisions in this new year. People of all ages will be deciding on career choices, negotiating changes brought about by new relationships or the dying of old ones, opportunities to go overseas, decisions which come to the fore because of children, grandchildren, age, illness or other life events.

Ignatian discernment may be of help because it gives us the assurance that God works in our innermost selves, leading us to decisions by attending to the feelings which reflect our — and God’s — deepest desires.

Tui Motu Magazine. Issue 278 February 2023: 6-7