So, here goes. I'm going to really put myself out here. I'm
challenging myself to a “75 Day Challenge.” The truth is, I
toyed with finding a fresh name for this, but realized it is but
another way to procrastinate – and avoiding such behavior is the
essence of this challenge.
Remember Julie and
Julia? The movie about a young woman who decides to go through
the cookbook of Julia Child – one recipe a day – blogging
about it each day? I will parallel this effort. Nope, not a
cooking challenge (Lord, help us) Eh, no, not a workout challenge.
No...no not a new meal plan challenge. I challenge myself to blog every day,
for the next 75 days, on the progress of my dissertation.
All I ask is for you (those of you who are interested) to hold me
accountable – maybe don't even read the blog if you don't want to,
but expect it so that if you don't see the link on FB/Twitter, ask
me why!
Why 75 days? Because my (self-imposed) deadline is up then – October
15, 2013, 11pm. [And I'm so tempted to add some disclaimer about how
nothing actually happens if I
don't meet this deadline, but I do risk missing semester deadlines
and will have to pay for another semester of tuition. And guess
what? I've paid for 18 semesters of tuition since law school; some of
those semesters I paid for both law school and graduate school. tuition So
really. It's just insane to keep this going.] I could explain time
missed with family and the time I need to focus on, and commit
myself, to my new job but that is pretty obvious... *Not to mention I
would love to submit a new dance choreography piece in the Spring
2014 Open
Marley Night*
Why do you care? Well, you may not. BUT if I finish in 75
days I will be able to attend functions, see my children, help out
around the house... You know, live life a little.
Why now? I start a new job tomorrow. I'm on the track to
completion of this dissertation, but I am scared (petrified) I will
get lost in the tasks of this job only to find myself still writing
my dissertation a year from now. [Not to mention in the realm of OCD
world, August 1 is a nice starting date].
Why will this work? I keep my word. I am relying on the
premise that I do not like to fail, and if I define “failure” as
making a promise and not following through with it, well, then...
this should work. PLUS, I hate to say it folks, but my gym routine
will go on hold until it is
done. I will teach, take walks with the dogs & children, but I
cannot make this a priority at this point.
Why a blog? A few
reasons. I usually have a lot to say and a mere status update on
FB/Twitter, etc. won't work. I have a blog that I set up a while ago
on which I hardly write, so let's use it. AND I promise to post
“funnies” about Samara, and I'm sure Mackenzie soon. Maybe not
in every post, but enough of the time, I think. Plus
this blog is “The Portioned Plate.” My life balancing act. This
is the ultimate call to action.
Anyways, as I mentioned, this
scares me – this asking others to hold me accountable. This... this putting myself out there. And frankly
75 days seems like a shot in the dark to me, in terms of actually finishing.
So I commit myself to a very intense 2 ½ months.
Okay all. Time for sleep so I can be on task tomorrow. Peace.
The soul of a lazy man desires, and has nothing; But the soul of
the diligent shall be made rich. ~Proverbs 13:4
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Friday, July 26, 2013
A Love Letter
My Z,
I don't know where to begin, so I'll start from "the beginning." About this time, 3:30am, July 26, 2012 I couldn't sleep. This was nothing unusual: I was almost 40 weeks pregnant and [you] the baby inside had claimed most of my sleep for his/her own. And when you're a mother who works outside the house full time who finds herself "black-clouded" with a dissertation, you research in such times, so that's what I did. I worked on my evaluation of Arkansas's state plans for the equitable distribution of highly qualified teachers. (For the record, I sincerely hope that this is a complete project by the time you are able to read this.)
My pregnancy with you was just as wonderful as with Samara, except so very different. It is just the same with how you two sisters are in life - wonderful, but so very different. As your due date, July 30, loomed closer and closer I got rather stressed, which was odd because as I said, my pregnancy with you was wonderful. I knew things would be different with you - for how could things be exactly the same - but Samara had been born 13 days prior to her due date and the world of "experts" (i.e. FB friends and everyone I encountered) told me the second baby would arrive sooner than the first. And so I'd had my share of "false hopes" - thinking labor had started but learning I was wrong.
This morning one year ago, 4am, as I sat contemplating the federal response to Arkansas's state equity plan, the contractions started again once more. But this time, I kept working - I tracked the contractions, but kept working. At about 5:15am it was apparent that a pattern was emerging so I called the doctor. It was a funny time because your dad was getting ready to go to work and we didn't know whether he should make the 50 minute drive to Baltimore. I got off of the phone, having received the advice to just wait and see, and told your dad I had no clue what he should do. So, in typical "Daltons of York" style, we stuck with our routine. Dad went to work.
Sufficed to say, about an hour after he left, I was calling him to tell him to return. I had waited about as long as I could for him (at least another hour for him to drive) and was about to leave without him in fear I'd have you in the house or on the way, when he finally did return home only to tell me he hadn't packed anything for the hospital. So I waited. Your dad decided to drive through the city during York City's version of "rush hour" which isn't much, but it is slower than the highway. On the way, he generously offered the right of way to about every driver who needed it. So I waited. We arrived at the hospital and completely forgot where to park - so in typical "Daltons of York" style we took a guess and were wrong. We had to have a security guard walk us to the maternity ward, while all along the contractions were getting pretty heavy. We check in and the doctor checks to see if I am far enough along - aaaaaand at about 8 centimeters dilated, we all decided that I was having a baby that day - July 26, 2012.
From there, the story could get longer, but here's the short version: While both you and your sister took the exact same about of time from the beginning of labor to birth (8 hours) a MAJOR difference between my delivery of you and of her was that yours was wonderful. I have a few theories as to why that is but they are irrelevant. For the record, I rejoiced at your sister's birth, don't get me wrong, but if I'm going to experience extraordinary amounts of pain, I'd rather know what to expect. And as the first, that just wasn't possible for my delivery of her. But with you, I... I...
Well anyways, short version: you are born on the 3rd push after I was in the hospital for only 3 hours. I had to have a small surgery so couldn't eat until afterwards which wasn't until 9 hours after I'd delivered you. Your grandparents and father and sister did eat... right in front of me which was "awesome." The Olympics started the day after you were born so your father and I had that playing on the TV for most of the time. Your father met you and loved you right away. And your sister met you and loved you right away. Your grandparents and aunts met you and loved you right away. I finally put a face to the wonderful being in my belly and the love I'd had for 40 weeks grew exponentially.
When you read this, I have no idea what the state of technology will be. Today, the common form of capturing a moment is via digital picture and video. We have plenty of pictures of you, but I'm working so hard to imprint your image in my mind that I wanted to describe your presence: You have a color of hair that teeters between reddish and blondish... I guess strawberry blonde, but I don't know. Your amount of hair is just right - not too much but enough that I can give you a little girly style - at the moment a Pebbles pony tail on the top of your head. Your lips are so perfect and your cheeks could be holding a little nut in each one. You have nice little ears, I suppose, but it's hardly a feature I can describe well. Of course you have the little baby nose. You are very long in stature... You have long fingers, long toes, long legs and long arms. You are long. Your knees have callouses on them because you still prefer crawling to walking, although I think you'll put crawling aside very soon. You are kissed by many mosquitoes and the bites well up. So far, you only have two little bottom teeth that pop out when you smile - which is a lot. Your two favorite modes of body-expressions (besides smiling) are pointing and clapping. And how could one forget your eyes. The big, round blueberries staring at people as they engage with you. You often give a "deer in headlights" expression (so if I'm doing justice to my written-picture I should paint that image with words) although that trait is fading and big smiles usually appear on your face when people speak to you.
You are my Z. You are my bookend. You have taken what was an open end to our family, closed it in, tied it up, and completed it. You are you. You are God's little angel. You are mine, your dad's, your sister's. We are yours. God is yours. God loves you. We love you. I love you. Take care, Sweet Z, all the days of your life and know that you are loved by many. Happy First Birthday!
Love always,
Mom
I don't know where to begin, so I'll start from "the beginning." About this time, 3:30am, July 26, 2012 I couldn't sleep. This was nothing unusual: I was almost 40 weeks pregnant and [you] the baby inside had claimed most of my sleep for his/her own. And when you're a mother who works outside the house full time who finds herself "black-clouded" with a dissertation, you research in such times, so that's what I did. I worked on my evaluation of Arkansas's state plans for the equitable distribution of highly qualified teachers. (For the record, I sincerely hope that this is a complete project by the time you are able to read this.)
My pregnancy with you was just as wonderful as with Samara, except so very different. It is just the same with how you two sisters are in life - wonderful, but so very different. As your due date, July 30, loomed closer and closer I got rather stressed, which was odd because as I said, my pregnancy with you was wonderful. I knew things would be different with you - for how could things be exactly the same - but Samara had been born 13 days prior to her due date and the world of "experts" (i.e. FB friends and everyone I encountered) told me the second baby would arrive sooner than the first. And so I'd had my share of "false hopes" - thinking labor had started but learning I was wrong.
This morning one year ago, 4am, as I sat contemplating the federal response to Arkansas's state equity plan, the contractions started again once more. But this time, I kept working - I tracked the contractions, but kept working. At about 5:15am it was apparent that a pattern was emerging so I called the doctor. It was a funny time because your dad was getting ready to go to work and we didn't know whether he should make the 50 minute drive to Baltimore. I got off of the phone, having received the advice to just wait and see, and told your dad I had no clue what he should do. So, in typical "Daltons of York" style, we stuck with our routine. Dad went to work.
Sufficed to say, about an hour after he left, I was calling him to tell him to return. I had waited about as long as I could for him (at least another hour for him to drive) and was about to leave without him in fear I'd have you in the house or on the way, when he finally did return home only to tell me he hadn't packed anything for the hospital. So I waited. Your dad decided to drive through the city during York City's version of "rush hour" which isn't much, but it is slower than the highway. On the way, he generously offered the right of way to about every driver who needed it. So I waited. We arrived at the hospital and completely forgot where to park - so in typical "Daltons of York" style we took a guess and were wrong. We had to have a security guard walk us to the maternity ward, while all along the contractions were getting pretty heavy. We check in and the doctor checks to see if I am far enough along - aaaaaand at about 8 centimeters dilated, we all decided that I was having a baby that day - July 26, 2012.
From there, the story could get longer, but here's the short version: While both you and your sister took the exact same about of time from the beginning of labor to birth (8 hours) a MAJOR difference between my delivery of you and of her was that yours was wonderful. I have a few theories as to why that is but they are irrelevant. For the record, I rejoiced at your sister's birth, don't get me wrong, but if I'm going to experience extraordinary amounts of pain, I'd rather know what to expect. And as the first, that just wasn't possible for my delivery of her. But with you, I... I...
Well anyways, short version: you are born on the 3rd push after I was in the hospital for only 3 hours. I had to have a small surgery so couldn't eat until afterwards which wasn't until 9 hours after I'd delivered you. Your grandparents and father and sister did eat... right in front of me which was "awesome." The Olympics started the day after you were born so your father and I had that playing on the TV for most of the time. Your father met you and loved you right away. And your sister met you and loved you right away. Your grandparents and aunts met you and loved you right away. I finally put a face to the wonderful being in my belly and the love I'd had for 40 weeks grew exponentially.
When you read this, I have no idea what the state of technology will be. Today, the common form of capturing a moment is via digital picture and video. We have plenty of pictures of you, but I'm working so hard to imprint your image in my mind that I wanted to describe your presence: You have a color of hair that teeters between reddish and blondish... I guess strawberry blonde, but I don't know. Your amount of hair is just right - not too much but enough that I can give you a little girly style - at the moment a Pebbles pony tail on the top of your head. Your lips are so perfect and your cheeks could be holding a little nut in each one. You have nice little ears, I suppose, but it's hardly a feature I can describe well. Of course you have the little baby nose. You are very long in stature... You have long fingers, long toes, long legs and long arms. You are long. Your knees have callouses on them because you still prefer crawling to walking, although I think you'll put crawling aside very soon. You are kissed by many mosquitoes and the bites well up. So far, you only have two little bottom teeth that pop out when you smile - which is a lot. Your two favorite modes of body-expressions (besides smiling) are pointing and clapping. And how could one forget your eyes. The big, round blueberries staring at people as they engage with you. You often give a "deer in headlights" expression (so if I'm doing justice to my written-picture I should paint that image with words) although that trait is fading and big smiles usually appear on your face when people speak to you.
You are my Z. You are my bookend. You have taken what was an open end to our family, closed it in, tied it up, and completed it. You are you. You are God's little angel. You are mine, your dad's, your sister's. We are yours. God is yours. God loves you. We love you. I love you. Take care, Sweet Z, all the days of your life and know that you are loved by many. Happy First Birthday!
Love always,
Mom
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Blind-Sighted
As any parent trying to get to school / work or to an
appointment or ANYwhere on time can attest – getting out of the house in one
piece – never mind on time and with all necessities – is a circus act. And it’s no exception in my house, trying to
get my five-month and almost-3-year old out of the door. Making sure I’ve got all the show and tell
items, extra diapers or wipes, my own food and bag, closing doors, locking
locks… and then I have to turn off all of the lights.
With arm hooked under car seat handle, I run through the house
doing a lock check and turning off the lights.
Mari, with banana in hand, could be in any one of the rooms – singing,
counting, hanging out… telling me what to do…
And then the last, final light expires and she is frantic. “I’m coming Samara… Don’t worry, I’ll be
right there.” I even open the front door
to shed the streetlamp light into the house.
This makes it easier – I can direct her to “go toward the light” as if
in some cult, but still, she doesn’t like it and is never entirely at ease
until she is holding my hand.
Again, this makes me wonder whether God feels this same way
about us – all of His children. When
situations change, if things flip upside down, if we reverse course or even if
the lights go out, He knows exactly where we are going. So while we’re in the dark, He is guiding
us. He is our sight when we are
blind. Like Samara, once we realize we
are still, somehow, living in His word, and doing His will, we ease our
anxieties and move on.
I suppose this is what I am going through. As I chip ever so slowly away at this
200-page project, with hardly a word actually written and a goal to finish in 6
months, each time the printer drum breaks, or the data is lost, or the baby is
up during my writing time, or, or, or – any one of the million possibilities –
every time I feel like I’m swirling out of control. I say I want to give up, but luckily He talks
some sense into me and I know, deep down inside, that I am going to keep on
keeping on. I don’t know whether I will
finish, I don’t know what the purpose of this “exercise” is. But I rest assured knowing that with Him, I
am blind-sighted and will end up where He wants me to be.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Ducks in a Row
My daughter, Lord love her, has her own obsessions. Watching her chunky little two-year old hands line up her red Crocs next to each other, at 6:45am, while she insists "It has to be perfect!" and I consider whether I'll make it to work on time, is so frustrating to me (although I don't let her know this). I watch her line up the shoes, balance delicately on one leg, and gently tap the alignment out of place, and stand - unshoed and unnerved - back onto two feet. She tries this many times and finally says to me, "I can't, Mommy!!" "Sweetie, you know I don't like those words." "Okay, Mommy, I need help please." And I hold her hand, so she can slide one foot in, and then the other, resulting in a perfectly-postured position.
I imagine this is how God feels watching me. I try to line up everything - family, academics, spirituality and health (FASH as I think of it) and the minute one thing is out of place, I cry, "I can't!" Can't continue on, continue forward, continue. And while I might ask God for help, I don't really know what that help from Him looks like or...is. I am so determined that things are wrong, that I don't consider that they are on the way to right.
And so, I've gone through ups and downs. I have very productive weeks and end up parched in the desert the next. Small incidents are exponentially magnified. And somehow, somewhere, I am still so damned determined to move on... I don't think many people realize the internal struggle I go through, but it's there - the struggle of wanting to do it all. I know. Not a grandiose struggle, right? I mean, I have a roof over my head, but 10,000 times more blessings than that, and a roof is much more than many people in our world have.
But it isn't about comparing my life with others'. It is about figuring out what in God's name (quite literally) I am supposed to be doing here on earth. These past 10 days, I have not spent as much time studying scripture as I wanted. I haven't blogged as frequently as I'd planned. And normally, the fact that I'd failed at first would cause me to "fail to the end" - just give up. But I've spent so much time listening, waiting, sort of... being guided. I think of the things that have gotten in my way this month... let's take my 5-month old. Sick as the Dickens this month. Bronchiolitis; double ear infection. We've been up night after night after night. Sticking binky back in mouth, rocking to sleep, soothing cries...And what happens to the parents? As my mother says, "...they wilt on the vine."
But I haven't felt so wilted - even without the caffeine. I am amazed that I still get up around 5am and continue on my day, chugging water, and nothing else, yet alert and unfazed by it all. I guess my point, if I have one because I frequently lose it, is that the help I seek from God right now comes in the form of a gentle comfort. Knowing that no matter what it is I'm doing at any moment, I'm somehow doing what I am supposed to be doing. That my version of my life isn't God's so if he turns me around, I might as well start walking in that direction.
My daughter and I saw a flock of geese the other day. She had never seen one so I explained what it was and where the birds were going. I told her it made the letter "V" which techincally it did, but I couldn't help notice that the birds weren't symmetrical (dammit, Leigh, they are FLYING - and you expect them to be "perfect?"). A few out of place here, some over there... But in the end, I'm sure they make it the warmer place they seek, and that is what I know God is telling me.
I imagine this is how God feels watching me. I try to line up everything - family, academics, spirituality and health (FASH as I think of it) and the minute one thing is out of place, I cry, "I can't!" Can't continue on, continue forward, continue. And while I might ask God for help, I don't really know what that help from Him looks like or...is. I am so determined that things are wrong, that I don't consider that they are on the way to right.
And so, I've gone through ups and downs. I have very productive weeks and end up parched in the desert the next. Small incidents are exponentially magnified. And somehow, somewhere, I am still so damned determined to move on... I don't think many people realize the internal struggle I go through, but it's there - the struggle of wanting to do it all. I know. Not a grandiose struggle, right? I mean, I have a roof over my head, but 10,000 times more blessings than that, and a roof is much more than many people in our world have.
But it isn't about comparing my life with others'. It is about figuring out what in God's name (quite literally) I am supposed to be doing here on earth. These past 10 days, I have not spent as much time studying scripture as I wanted. I haven't blogged as frequently as I'd planned. And normally, the fact that I'd failed at first would cause me to "fail to the end" - just give up. But I've spent so much time listening, waiting, sort of... being guided. I think of the things that have gotten in my way this month... let's take my 5-month old. Sick as the Dickens this month. Bronchiolitis; double ear infection. We've been up night after night after night. Sticking binky back in mouth, rocking to sleep, soothing cries...And what happens to the parents? As my mother says, "...they wilt on the vine."
But I haven't felt so wilted - even without the caffeine. I am amazed that I still get up around 5am and continue on my day, chugging water, and nothing else, yet alert and unfazed by it all. I guess my point, if I have one because I frequently lose it, is that the help I seek from God right now comes in the form of a gentle comfort. Knowing that no matter what it is I'm doing at any moment, I'm somehow doing what I am supposed to be doing. That my version of my life isn't God's so if he turns me around, I might as well start walking in that direction.
My daughter and I saw a flock of geese the other day. She had never seen one so I explained what it was and where the birds were going. I told her it made the letter "V" which techincally it did, but I couldn't help notice that the birds weren't symmetrical (dammit, Leigh, they are FLYING - and you expect them to be "perfect?"). A few out of place here, some over there... But in the end, I'm sure they make it the warmer place they seek, and that is what I know God is telling me.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
What I've Learned in 3 days of ONE-THREE
While the point of a fast is to - obviously - fast, i.e. withhold from various foods and beverages, in the Daniel Fast I am also working on other habits. For instance, I'm withholding from Facebook and from my games on my phone, such as Words With Friends. And it isn't some crazy idea I've had in my head, but instead, it is an attempt to understand how I spend my time. So by taking that activity away I can assess what I will do with this time come February 2013 when I am done with the fast and ready to move forward.
Another point of the fast is to - in a sense - be so hungry and tempted that we rely on God to get us through rather than given into the temptation. It is an opportunity for me to take the time that I would spend maybe on Facebook or playing my phone games, to focus on God and my relationship with Him.
So what has it been like? Well, the food fast hardly phases me. I mean, I LOVE to eat - cheese, especially. I LOVE myself a drink - beer, wine, you name it. But on the other hand, I can very simply ignore hunger pains. And that was pretty much working well until today when I had BANGING (literally) headache all day. But I persisted. This teaches me that I have a very strong will power.
WHEN.I.WANT.TO.
I have also learned that I CAN take the time out to cook and I CAN cook pretty well. I have pushed myself beyond my cooking boundaries (up to now, rather non-existent when your husband prefers to cook). I have made fried tofu and I even made my own 16 baked bean recipe. More importantly than the substance, is that I've experienced success in the process. Tim and I might have to pass Mackenzie back and forth, and we might have to trade off who is reading a book or playing Old MacDonald with Samara, but in the end, we get dinner on the table together, even though we have different meals. I can cook.
WHEN.I.WANT.TO.
So this brings me to the larger purpose I have for this fast - what do I do with my time? And more importantly, why can't / haven't I used the time I have to finish this dissertation? Well, there have been a few tasks for me to tackle on my list of "when I' not working on my dissertation." But in the past few days, I've not even had the energy to finish those tasks... So when I wake up and my to-do list from the day before is not tackled, I'm tempted to say, I just don't have the time. At this point, maybe what I'm learning is that, I have the time.
WHEN.I.WANT.TO.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
The Scatter Plot
Friday around 2:30pm I found myself in the arms of my husband. This is profound for a few reasons. A. I hardly ever ask for help, never mind expect understanding or sympathy; 1. my husband isn't one to just grab me and embrace me, which he did... and furthermore: I was lost. (yes, A. 1. Furthermore - they are all as important as the other)
It reminded me of the times when I was young. Vacations were hard for me. I had such a crammed schedule that when I found free time I literally had no idea what to do with it. I mean, I would pace, and complain... and I remember just sort of "finding" things to complain about... I would finish my homework, my laundry and my cleaning and then would, in a sense, stalk my mother... I would just BE - hover - right over her. And this day - this Friday - I was doing that. I was just pouty and sad and depressed and out of sorts...
So what the heck was wrong with me this particular Friday? By the grace of United Way I am allowed Friday afternoons to work on my dissertation. I was at home, supposedly working on my dissertation. But seriously, it was just not working...
As a means of background, 2 weeks ago, a tragedy that sucks the breath out of me, that makes my heart melt with fear, took place in Newtown, CT. While not one for media hype, I heard about it and just CRAVED to know more... I spent the entire day "connected" - whether by TV or internet. A week later I was distraught by potentially lost information from my thumb drive that would render...well at the very least a BIG hiccup if the information was lost. And then two days ago - well, the pretense of THAT situation was the fact that while we had just upgraded our internet service, for MY computer in my office, the router was not entirely working and I had (okay, have) poor service which rendered downloads... slow.
I found myself upstairs (out of my basement office). Wandering. Complaining to Tim. Lost. Confused. And I turned to my husband and said, "I'm so sorry. I just... I just, I want to dance, I want to feel, I want to be, I want to live, I want to know, I want... I want... I..." and then I did. I felt his arms around me and the strength of his hold paused my anxiety and I was. I did...
I get like this when I don't dance. I get like this when I want but don't have but don't know what I want, in the midst of all that I have. Ask my mom. I remember those days when I was young... I just was... bored. And I just don't do well with time; with reflection.
So before I write some prophetic or grandiose foresight into what 2013 will be, I realize I first need to stop and assess 2012 and...and... be. I need to take a look back and learn. Here's what I know: I have had plenty of time to make progress on my dissertation and EACH and EVERY time I have sat down to make progress, something out of my control has interceded. I am tempted to blame the Devil... but then again, is it God. And isn't that the constant struggle? Knowing when God is interfering versus whether Satan is?
And so that is where I find myself. Here. December 2012. Lost. Confused. DONE. But so damned hopeful and blessed more than ever. And why IS that? What is it about me that seeks for more and to be more and to want more and to help more and to reach more? Why can't I just be happy with what I've got? Before I can (and I want to) write about my New Year resolution I must have in mind the inventory of what needs to be resolved and what needs to be pursued.
Here is what I will do: take a month off from my dissertation. I will fast not only from food but from my major stress in my life: my dissertation. I was focus on God and me and my family and my goals and just BE. I need answers. And I will tell you all about it. That is the strongest feeling I have, actually - "this could would be a wonderful thought to share with others" "what would people think of this" "oh, I know people would really want to challenge me on that". God wants me to write, to report, to share.
So my New Year's resolutions will not happen until February. I will spend this month asking about where I am. I need my mission statement. I have my vision but I need my mission. With all that is scattered in my mind, I will try to plot my year. I have an idea, but after 3 weeks of daily meditation, who knows? I might totally re-chart my course.
It reminded me of the times when I was young. Vacations were hard for me. I had such a crammed schedule that when I found free time I literally had no idea what to do with it. I mean, I would pace, and complain... and I remember just sort of "finding" things to complain about... I would finish my homework, my laundry and my cleaning and then would, in a sense, stalk my mother... I would just BE - hover - right over her. And this day - this Friday - I was doing that. I was just pouty and sad and depressed and out of sorts...
So what the heck was wrong with me this particular Friday? By the grace of United Way I am allowed Friday afternoons to work on my dissertation. I was at home, supposedly working on my dissertation. But seriously, it was just not working...
As a means of background, 2 weeks ago, a tragedy that sucks the breath out of me, that makes my heart melt with fear, took place in Newtown, CT. While not one for media hype, I heard about it and just CRAVED to know more... I spent the entire day "connected" - whether by TV or internet. A week later I was distraught by potentially lost information from my thumb drive that would render...well at the very least a BIG hiccup if the information was lost. And then two days ago - well, the pretense of THAT situation was the fact that while we had just upgraded our internet service, for MY computer in my office, the router was not entirely working and I had (okay, have) poor service which rendered downloads... slow.
I found myself upstairs (out of my basement office). Wandering. Complaining to Tim. Lost. Confused. And I turned to my husband and said, "I'm so sorry. I just... I just, I want to dance, I want to feel, I want to be, I want to live, I want to know, I want... I want... I..." and then I did. I felt his arms around me and the strength of his hold paused my anxiety and I was. I did...
I get like this when I don't dance. I get like this when I want but don't have but don't know what I want, in the midst of all that I have. Ask my mom. I remember those days when I was young... I just was... bored. And I just don't do well with time; with reflection.
So before I write some prophetic or grandiose foresight into what 2013 will be, I realize I first need to stop and assess 2012 and...and... be. I need to take a look back and learn. Here's what I know: I have had plenty of time to make progress on my dissertation and EACH and EVERY time I have sat down to make progress, something out of my control has interceded. I am tempted to blame the Devil... but then again, is it God. And isn't that the constant struggle? Knowing when God is interfering versus whether Satan is?
And so that is where I find myself. Here. December 2012. Lost. Confused. DONE. But so damned hopeful and blessed more than ever. And why IS that? What is it about me that seeks for more and to be more and to want more and to help more and to reach more? Why can't I just be happy with what I've got? Before I can (and I want to) write about my New Year resolution I must have in mind the inventory of what needs to be resolved and what needs to be pursued.
Here is what I will do: take a month off from my dissertation. I will fast not only from food but from my major stress in my life: my dissertation. I was focus on God and me and my family and my goals and just BE. I need answers. And I will tell you all about it. That is the strongest feeling I have, actually - "this could would be a wonderful thought to share with others" "what would people think of this" "oh, I know people would really want to challenge me on that". God wants me to write, to report, to share.
So my New Year's resolutions will not happen until February. I will spend this month asking about where I am. I need my mission statement. I have my vision but I need my mission. With all that is scattered in my mind, I will try to plot my year. I have an idea, but after 3 weeks of daily meditation, who knows? I might totally re-chart my course.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Thoughts on Running
I remember the first time I ran a mile… There were plenty of times my dad had tried
to take me running with him, but we’d made it about 10 houses down the street
and I’d turn around and walk home. I've always blamed that particular weakness in my stamina on my dance training. Certainly for most of my life I've been in
some sort of acceptable physical shape, and while I was a dancer, I was in
great shape. As a dancer you either
condition and tone or, especially during rehearsal and performance, you exert
excessive amounts of energy in a short period of time – what we might call a
sprint.
So I’ve always claimed that if I ever were to be a runner,
I’d sprint. Yet, high school gym class
rolls around and the physical fitness challenge rears its ugly head and I am
told I have to run a mile. I remember
Mr. Michelson giving us pointers – us the whiny group in the back that couldn't IMAGINE having to run such a long distance.
“Don’t clinch your hands – you exert extra energy that way,” or “Remain
calm and breath. It’s all a matter of
how you perceive this.”
And I suppose I made it through the mile – okay, well
OBVIOUSLY I made it through the mile, but more prevalent in my mind remains,
“It’s all a matter of how you perceive it.”
Fast forward to today.
I do not, unfortunately, have the resources available to me to continue
my dance studies – those resources being money, time or a local York-based dance
company (yes, I do get rather depressed when I realize this trifecta). So I've turned my attention to other types of
fitness, one of which is completing a race / obstacle event each month.
So realize: for me the goal is to complete the event; to do
it and be done with it. I tell myself I
will do the training necessary but I rarely give it as much attention as my
body deserves (recall, if you will, stress fracture of 2011 when I did the an
11-mile navy seals obstacle course with hardly any training)
Dare I now take the threads of this conversation and weave
them into my revelation about law school and completing my dissertation?
So realize: for law school, the goal was to pass the bar –
and you DO. You study, HARD, for
months. You cram, you worry, you throw
up, you bite your nails, pull out your hair, you wish you’d never considered law… but in 3-4 months
time, you've done all that you can do, you take the 2-day exam and then go have
a beer while you create a Plan B since you're sure you didn't pass.
So as I am running a few weeks ago on the beautiful York County Rail
Trail, taking in the foliage of falling leaves and the colors of autumn, it
occurs to me – seriously – for the first time in my life I am ENJOYING the
run. I actually am having a good time
running! For the first time it wasn't about logging in my calories burned and posting them against my food intake and
learning how many beers I would be allowed that night. (ha! It’s true!)
So it got me thinking… My dissertation advisor, more than a
hundred times, has told me that the dissertation is not a sprint. And I've only ever thought in my mind,
“Little does he know, I’m a sprinter.
How’d I get myself into this mess?”
When I had this little aha moment about how I can enjoy running, and not
just relish the result, I realized why this dissertation has been so damned
difficult. Sure, I started it while in
law school, took the bar exam, had two children, have said good bye to two very
loved people in my life, moved, changed jobs… but those are EVENTS. They happen – certainly the
children stay with you, grow with you, become you… but leaving the "journey of motherhood" aside for the moment, I realized that the dissertation is a
marathon.
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