My husband is patient, my husband is kind. He does not envy, he does not boast, he is not proud. He does not dishonor others, he is not self-seeking, he is not easily angered, he keeps no record of wrongs. He does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. He always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
We were in the car and I cried over long ago things that felt surprisingly fresh. Listening to a smorgasbord of podcasts on our road trip, I heard something that conjured up feelings of embarrassment and shame about the older, lonely, strange girl that I was when I met him. Devoted to the faith I was raised in, and therefore its prohibitions, which made me a stranger within secular culture, yet also a stranger within my faith because of my educational level, my career, and my aversion to the dogmatism that permeates the culture of my faith, among other things.
He rubbed my back and hugged me and told me that I was perfect and that he loved me. And then I looked at him and thanked him for being so patient and kind.
Thursday, March 23, 2017
But, Inevitably
Assistant Professor
So, I found out a couple of weeks ago that the Dean decided to convert my visiting position to a tenure-track one. As of August 15, the word "visiting" will be officially dropped from my job title. This is a big deal, and I'm very excited about it. This is real security for us. No more nerve-wracking, soul-crushing job market angst. This is the absolute best-case scenario, right? I went from not getting the job I originally applied for, to the Dean creating a position for me to bring me here anyway, to now having a permanent position with the opportunity for advancement and tenure. And it doesn't hurt that a (tiny) raise was thrown in to boot. I am grateful, no doubt. I don't take it lightly and I don't take it for granted.
But, (sigh...isn't it always inevitable with me?)
I hate that I can never completely enjoy something because I can't stop being preoccupied with the next step, and the one after that, and the one after that. I can't just breathe a sigh of relief. First of all, my staying at this institution is contingent on my husband being able to find gainful employment in the area once he graduates. And besides that, just because you have a tenure-track job doesn't mean you have it made. You have to actually, uh, get tenure. Which means you have to work and step up your game. Despite all the positivity, support and displays of confidence from my colleagues and the administration, I remain woefully insecure. Whenever anyone congratulates me on becoming tenure-track, I'm consumed with the idea that there may be some who don't feel I earned it.
It's a fruitless, purposeless exercise in futility, expending energy wondering about what may or may not be going on in other people's heads. Truth be told, it's none of my business. I somehow have to figure out a way to acknowledge my insecurity and feelings of inadequacy while still moving forward. Lord, I believe. Help thou mine unbelief.
I don't want to talk about it but I do.
What is it about acknowledging your disappointment? Why does it feel like moral weakness to admit that you'd hoped for something you didn't receive?
Instead of clinging to God, as I should, I cling to facts. And the facts say that I am not over 35 and that it hasn't yet been a year. No need to panic. I'm still within the window of normality and calmness and just relax and don't worry about it, everything's fine and just be patient, you'll see. I almost expect to hear "it'll happen when you least expect it," because that's what was said about that other thing that at one time I didn't want to talk about.
Actually, only a part of me clings to facts. Another part of me clings to supposed spiritual, cosmic reasons only truly fathomed by God for why it's not happening: He knows (because His ways are higher than our ways) that you aren't "ready" yet. You're not spiritually ready, emotionally ready, financially ready, mentally ready, physically ready to truly take on such a responsibility. What do I need to do to be holistically "ready," though? Will I ever be "ready"? Was I "ready" for that other thing when that other thing finally did come to pass?
There's a tinier, third part of me, too. A saner, chiller part of me that wonders whether it's not a matter of facts or readiness, but plain and simple timing. Time. Like a batch of banana chocolate chip muffins that simply aren't ready because they haven't baked for 25 minutes yet. Maybe it's not the ingredients, not the temperature, nothing to do with whether the oven is gas or electric. It's 25 minutes until golden. No one wants mushy muffins.
So, I found out a couple of weeks ago that the Dean decided to convert my visiting position to a tenure-track one. As of August 15, the word "visiting" will be officially dropped from my job title. This is a big deal, and I'm very excited about it. This is real security for us. No more nerve-wracking, soul-crushing job market angst. This is the absolute best-case scenario, right? I went from not getting the job I originally applied for, to the Dean creating a position for me to bring me here anyway, to now having a permanent position with the opportunity for advancement and tenure. And it doesn't hurt that a (tiny) raise was thrown in to boot. I am grateful, no doubt. I don't take it lightly and I don't take it for granted.
But, (sigh...isn't it always inevitable with me?)
I hate that I can never completely enjoy something because I can't stop being preoccupied with the next step, and the one after that, and the one after that. I can't just breathe a sigh of relief. First of all, my staying at this institution is contingent on my husband being able to find gainful employment in the area once he graduates. And besides that, just because you have a tenure-track job doesn't mean you have it made. You have to actually, uh, get tenure. Which means you have to work and step up your game. Despite all the positivity, support and displays of confidence from my colleagues and the administration, I remain woefully insecure. Whenever anyone congratulates me on becoming tenure-track, I'm consumed with the idea that there may be some who don't feel I earned it.
It's a fruitless, purposeless exercise in futility, expending energy wondering about what may or may not be going on in other people's heads. Truth be told, it's none of my business. I somehow have to figure out a way to acknowledge my insecurity and feelings of inadequacy while still moving forward. Lord, I believe. Help thou mine unbelief.
I don't want to talk about it but I do.
What is it about acknowledging your disappointment? Why does it feel like moral weakness to admit that you'd hoped for something you didn't receive?
Instead of clinging to God, as I should, I cling to facts. And the facts say that I am not over 35 and that it hasn't yet been a year. No need to panic. I'm still within the window of normality and calmness and just relax and don't worry about it, everything's fine and just be patient, you'll see. I almost expect to hear "it'll happen when you least expect it," because that's what was said about that other thing that at one time I didn't want to talk about.
Actually, only a part of me clings to facts. Another part of me clings to supposed spiritual, cosmic reasons only truly fathomed by God for why it's not happening: He knows (because His ways are higher than our ways) that you aren't "ready" yet. You're not spiritually ready, emotionally ready, financially ready, mentally ready, physically ready to truly take on such a responsibility. What do I need to do to be holistically "ready," though? Will I ever be "ready"? Was I "ready" for that other thing when that other thing finally did come to pass?
There's a tinier, third part of me, too. A saner, chiller part of me that wonders whether it's not a matter of facts or readiness, but plain and simple timing. Time. Like a batch of banana chocolate chip muffins that simply aren't ready because they haven't baked for 25 minutes yet. Maybe it's not the ingredients, not the temperature, nothing to do with whether the oven is gas or electric. It's 25 minutes until golden. No one wants mushy muffins.
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