Month: February 2014

Options?

/ faithsweatandtears / 2 Comments

I don’t talk a whole lot about the “tears” part of my blog name, except in posts having to do with grieving. I guess it’s because I don’t want to sound like a pessimistic whiny-baby, and besides — I get enough of the “I don’t see how you do it” type of comments as it is, and I don’t want to swallow my pride to admit publicly that sometimes my day flat-out stinks. Sometimes, whole weeks stink. Sometimes, I just want to make it to the next month. Get my drift?

Perhaps I’m fooling myself, but being overly emotional is not typically how I would categorize my personality. I can be emotional, of course, and I feel passionate about certain issues, but I’m also pretty logical — to the fault of over-analyzing things, at times. So, when tears well up in my eyes out of the blue — like driving to work one morning, it makes me pause and think about just how stressed out I am trying to pretend not to be.

I know the Bible verses like Jeremiah 29:11, Proverbs 3:6 & 16:3 … verses to remind me that God isn’t going to leave me hanging out to dry, that he has a purpose for my life, etc., etc. I get it. I know it. But sometimes, I don’t feel it, and it’s hard to cling to it.

I don’t talk a lot about money, because a career isn’t just about money, but truth be told, I am actually making less in my current job than I made 10 years ago when I first moved here. I have a master’s degree and am thiiiiiis close to finishing my doctorate, yet my kids qualify for the Reduced Lunch Program. Granted, we’re not destitute, and I am immensely thankful that all the bills get paid each month — even the ridiculous $450 electric bill that arrived in December after a heat pump fried. I’m thankful for the Social Security survivor benefits that have helped bridge the gap since my brother died. Each month comes and goes, and I still manage to make ends meet with some slack left over.

I’m thankful for all of that.

And yet, when I think about the hard work that I’ve invested to improve myself professionally, sometimes it feels like I’m spinning my wheels. I don’t dislike my current job, necessarily, but it isn’t what I set out to do with my career, on the whole. I love teaching (college) and research, but I don’t know what options exist for me anymore. Since the fall, I have applied for 16 faculty positions around the country. One of them — ironically, the lowest position of all (just a lecturer) — was right here in my own university. As each week goes by with no communication from the search committee, it appears that I’ve been passed over from consideration, which stings my pride like plucking my eyebrows. More than one faculty friend has advised that sometimes you have to go away for a few years and then come back to a university before they’ll take you seriously, especially since I did my master’s degree here. Most places don’t often hire their own, apparently.

The other positions aren’t shots in the dark, either; they are professor-type jobs for which I am well qualified. I don’t relish the idea of moving, but what is left for me to do here? There’s a chance that a position will open up next year at the community college where I’m currently teaching part-time, but it wouldn’t provide four years’ worth of tuition remission benefits for the boys like working at a university could. Do I stay in an underpaid staff position (or pursue a different staff role) for 13 more years until the last of my kids graduates from college, even though I’m qualified to be a tenure-track assistant professor somewhere else? Even if that were a feasible option, the odds of being seriously considered for a faculty position after spending so many years away from “academia” are slim to none, and Slim is out of town.

“If God is in it, then it’ll work out.” Right. I totally agree, but I also believed (and still do) that “God was in it” when I decided to move to China in the mid-90s, and that went over like a lead balloon with most of my family. How much more so now, since I have the bulk of the grandchildren on either side of the family?! I run the risk of hurting feelings and sounding unappreciative just by venting about this.

I feel like I’m trapped between a rock and a hard place, for lack of a more creative analogy. If I stay, I give up something significant — my dream of teaching full-time, the chance to pursue my research ideas, perhaps more income. If I move, I also give up something significant — my support network.

Blurry Vision (Prayer Devotional for the week of February 16, 2014)

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If you don’t wear glasses, then you may not fully appreciate this example, but I’ll try to explain it. For a reference point, 20/20 means that you can see objects clearly from 20 feet away; this is normal. My uncorrected vision is between 20/800 and 20/900, which means objects that are clear to most people are as blurry to me as if they were almost three football fields away.

To put yourself in my shoes, it’s kind of like snapping a picture on your smartphone and editing it with the “soften” feature on max. The edges become hazy, details fade away, and even colors can blend together. Lacking clear vision throws everything out of whack.

I can relate to the imagery in verses like 2 Corinthians 5:7 (“We live by believing, not by seeing”), because I know first-hand what it’s like to not be able to see well. There are very few places I will venture without my glasses – namely, from my bedroom to the bathroom at night in the dark, since my glasses wouldn’t help then, anyway. I trust that I know the way, because it’s my home and I’ve lived there for years. During my day-to-day life, though, I rely on my glasses, because I need them to function. Without my sight, I would be severely hindered.

Case in point, I absolutely loathe team-building exercises that require you to close your eyes and fall backward (supposedly into the arms of your peers who will catch you) or do other sensory tricks. I prefer to stand on my own two feet and take in my surroundings with my own two eyes. (And, quite frankly, I don’t trust someone who is 120 lbs soaking wet to be strong enough to break my fall!)

And yet, God asks, “Do you trust me?” I know that he’ll catch me, but knowing it and putting it into action are two different things. How tempting it is to rely on my sight when I ought to rely on God … not my eyesight, but sight in the sense that *I* know better than him. Sometimes God’s vision for us is very clear, but at other times, pursuing him means being willing to take a step of faith, because it forces us to trust his guidance. As 1 Corinthians 13:12 reminds us: “Now we see only a dim likeness of things. It is as if we were seeing them in a mirror. But someday we will see clearly. We will see face to face. What I know now is not complete. But someday I will know completely, just as God knows me completely.” Will you trust his vision?

A day away from the grid

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This post on Momastery spoke to my heart like a friend who gives you a bear hug when you haven’t even told them what’s the matter. I was unofficially a single parent long before my divorce was finalized. Three military deployments nested among years of sharing a home with someone who methodically trudged through the motions of day-to-day life meant that the decision-making, crisis-dealing, boo-boo-kissing, parent-teacher-conferencing and discipline-implementing duties usually fell to me (along with just about anything else that needed cleaned, fixed, cooked or paid).

I’m not bitter about love. I’m actually quite a romantic at heart and would thoroughly enjoy being swept off my feet by someone who is as smitten about me as I am about him. Do you know the last time I went on a date when I didn’t have to decide when and where to go? Me neither, come to think of it. I’m not a control freak; I’m just the only freaking person willing to be in control, historically speaking. I would like the opportunity to hand over the reins to someone someday and make cooperative decisions instead of bearing the burden single-handedly. I am a leader, but that doesn’t mean I should always have to lead. I want a partner, a sounding board, a teammate. I want to be challenged — not in a confrontational way, but in a way that spurs me on to become more like Christ. I want the type of love that says non-verbally, “I enjoy your company, no matter where we are or what we’re doing.” Heck, I don’t even need flowers or chocolate*; a simple text or email out of the blue is enough to put a sloppy grin on my face for hours. (*However, a bottle of wine wouldn’t hurt now & then.)

All that said, I also think it is wise to guard my heart from unnecessary aches & pains. For that reason, I’m planning to go off the grid tomorrow and avoid looking at Facebook, Twitter & Pinterest because I don’t need to be bombarded with mushy-gushy Valentine’s Day posts about everyone’s picture-perfect relationships with their doting husbands and boyfriends. Gag me with a spoon and drown me in chocolate; the last thing a single parent needs is to have her situation rubbed in her face. Anticipating all of the lovey-doviness tomorrow helps me to understand a little better now what a childless friend once told me she felt like on Mother’s Day.