Courtesy of Rebecca Nevius
I grew up watching my mom teach music.
My first memories are of my mom at the piano, her fingers pounding out rich chords and melodies. I could even hear it through the wall as I drifted off to sleep at night. Her office, located in our renovated garage, was the only air-conditioned room in our Phoenix home, so I’d often sneak out there as she taught lessons to cool off.
I loved watching her work. She’d been teaching since she was a teenager, and many of her students went on to follow careers in the music field. While I was in college, she shifted from private teaching to directing music at our local church. She led the big band, directed the choir, and played the piano — often in the same service.
In 2019, when she turned 64, she retired. By then, we were next-door neighbors, and she threw herself into being Grandma — oversnacking my children with giant chocolate bars and whisking them away on spontaneous trips to Home Depot with her to pick up potting soil.
After retiring at 64, she realized she wasn’t finished working
Her 50 years of teaching had come to an end, but in our quiet conversations over coffee, she often let it slip, “I’m not sure I’m finished — but what’s next? I have no idea!”
She’d always loved a challenge and was passionate about inspiring others. In my mind, she could do anything, but who would hire her in a brand-new field?
One night at dinner, she told us, “I’ve applied to be the Volunteer Supervisor at John C. Lincoln!”
“The hospital?” I asked. I was stunned. I knew my mother was capable, but working at a hospital would be completely foreign, with its own unique politics, medical jargon, and way of life. Could my mom actually cut it in that environment?
“Yes,” she said. “It’s a long shot, but I made myself a résumé and I gave it to them yesterday.”
She was hired because of her experience with people
I had just overcome my own insecurities about starting a new career as a writer at 40, but starting from scratch at 64? It seemed daunting; I asked her what motivated her to un-retire and move into a completely new field, and what she said surprised me.
“People are people,” she said. “Learning their name, making sure they understand how valuable they are — that will translate to any job I take. At least, I think it will.”
And despite having no training directly related to the medical field, she landed the job as Volunteer Supervisor at John C. Lincoln.
The pandemic hit just six months after she started her job, placing extraordinary demands on the hospital. Even though the volunteers were sent home, she stayed. She supported the existing staff and coached families through separation and heartbreak, simply by showing up and listening.
When the hospital reopened its doors to volunteers, she welcomed a new wave of uncertain teens and 95-year-old volunteer veterans. She learned their names and saw their potential when, often, they didn’t even see it in themselves. She also made friends with the cafeteria, maintenance, and security staff.
I learned a lot from watching her second career
A student from the volunteer program recently left a card on her desk. It said, “Thank you for building up my confidence — helping me realize that I have a lot more potential than what I thought I had. You will always be someone who I look up to, and I am beyond blessed to have had you as my supervisor.”
Turns out, my mom reinventing herself at 64 had less to do with fitting into a new system or learning hospital code names and other medical jargon. Loving people well and showing them their value translates to any career, and that’s why my mom was so successful. It had more to do with being herself and not changing a thing.
When she retired again at 70, I asked her what she missed the most about work.
“The people,” she said, “and seeing the moment their eyes light up, when they realize they have value, that their gifts truly matter. That’s what I’ll miss.”
The post My mom retired then realized she wasn’t done working. Watching her start a job in a new field at 64 inspired me. appeared first on Business Insider.
