It's disorienting to be in new spaces; moving to a new place, moving to a new job, moving to a new stage in life. Having done all of those in the past 2 years, I've had a lot of time to be disoriented and to think about it.
A friend recently moved from East Africa to the States and discovered that her expert malaria-prevention skills are useless, kind of like my parallel-parking skills and my turning-left-on-red skills. Instead I've been boning up my navigating-the-medical-industrial-complex skills and taking-the-kid-to-preschool skills.
My sister-in-law is a newly minted mom and bemoans her days of "getting nothing done." Actually she and all moms do a lot, just none of it counts. It's a particularly hard adjustment if your previous life had easily identifiable to-do lists. She's a pharmacist and there are obvious pharmacist things to do and patients to not kill. I was a teacher and grad student. I had specific hoops to jump, lessons to deliver, and papers to grade.
The new mommy check list is woefully short: Keep baby alive and clean. When possible, rest and feed yourself. So I was very encouraged to read the exhortation to find "quiet ways to love and serve others without applause" That really sums up new motherhood, particularly for stay-at-home moms. There is tragically little applause and lots of demands.
However, the more I walk this Jesus journey the more I think this is the call to all Jesus followers. Flash and bang, shock and awe should be the exception not the rule. This is something I so value in my husband, his faithfulness in the ordinary. Actually, it can be irritating because his service can appear to be inflexible habit, but he's so consistent about it; doing the dishes, taking out the trash, closing up the house for the night, tending to our electronics, tending to the church electronics, tending to the neighbors' electronics and so forth.
My bent is to think that things you could proudly tell a stranger are the things that count; publications, projects, travels, etc. Changing diapers, burping babies, taking out trash, and fixing computers are not things you would discuss and do not count. And that's crap. All those hidden hours of love and service count, and they count in the eyes of the one who matters most, our Creator.
Showing posts with label career. Show all posts
Showing posts with label career. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
No regrets, you have been worth it
Dear Children,
I have been fairly public about this process of transitioning into motherhood. It's taken me a lot longer in my head to become a mother than it took for me to biologically become one. A big part of the process has been grieving the loss of my previous life and a change in my perspective and understanding of how my time should be spent. I think it's been important to document this journey because 1) there's this belief out there that becoming a mom is this easy, breezy, feel-good thing for everyone, and 2) there are two camps of thought on women and working. Some think work and children coexist well, and some thing work and children cannot coexist. Whichever way it is, there's an emotional cost that must be paid. These are the things I'm trying to document.
I worry, however, that you may believe that I regret your existence. Don't do that; you would be believing a lie. You won't remember these early years together, but let me tell you that I have not covered myself in glory. I have been selfish; I have been removed; I have been uninterested. But slowly, slowly, slowly, by the loving grace of God, with every nursing, every hug, every diaper, every song and every giggle, I am becoming less selfish, more connected, more attentive. You are already an irreplaceable part of my life.
I have deeply grieved the loss of opportunity to pursue a tenure-track professorship. You may be tempted to think that I would have rather taken that path. Even though I grieve that loss, I count it a privilege to be with you made possible because your father can support us on his own. It is precisely because you are so precious that I willingly give up something that I value dearly.
I have no regrets about these past two and a half years with you, L and half a year with you, DW. You each have been supremely worth it.
I love you both,
Mom
I have been fairly public about this process of transitioning into motherhood. It's taken me a lot longer in my head to become a mother than it took for me to biologically become one. A big part of the process has been grieving the loss of my previous life and a change in my perspective and understanding of how my time should be spent. I think it's been important to document this journey because 1) there's this belief out there that becoming a mom is this easy, breezy, feel-good thing for everyone, and 2) there are two camps of thought on women and working. Some think work and children coexist well, and some thing work and children cannot coexist. Whichever way it is, there's an emotional cost that must be paid. These are the things I'm trying to document.
I worry, however, that you may believe that I regret your existence. Don't do that; you would be believing a lie. You won't remember these early years together, but let me tell you that I have not covered myself in glory. I have been selfish; I have been removed; I have been uninterested. But slowly, slowly, slowly, by the loving grace of God, with every nursing, every hug, every diaper, every song and every giggle, I am becoming less selfish, more connected, more attentive. You are already an irreplaceable part of my life.
I have deeply grieved the loss of opportunity to pursue a tenure-track professorship. You may be tempted to think that I would have rather taken that path. Even though I grieve that loss, I count it a privilege to be with you made possible because your father can support us on his own. It is precisely because you are so precious that I willingly give up something that I value dearly.
I have no regrets about these past two and a half years with you, L and half a year with you, DW. You each have been supremely worth it.
I love you both,
Mom
Friday, June 24, 2011
Reflections on existential angst
I am dealing with a bout of existential angst. Basically, I'm realizing that whether we try to have a third kid is a big deal to me in a who-am-I way. Part of it is that I still have dreams of becoming a professor and there's a study out that found very few women with 3 kids in academia. And trust me, I get it. If we have a third kid, I am probably harming my potential to get a tenure track job in a big way. (Arguably, being geographically inflexible is equally or more harmful.)
So I've been pondering what is the big deal about getting a job, particularly since my husband provides handsomely for our family?
In no particular order:
1) What I do is fun for me. I like both teaching and research. I whine and moan about aspects of both, but at the end of the day I enjoy them. Part of the fun has been the people. I have worked with fantastic people and on fun projects.
2) I have been heavily invested in. I've been given a lot of money and time by various institutions and people who think I have a particular ability to contribute to society in this way. While they invested with no strings attached--I don't contractually owe anyone anything, I feel a responsibility to this investment similar to the parable of the talents.
3) I like "unlocking achievements". I'm told in video games that when you do enough of X, you "unlock an achievement". Seems like a fancy system of getting enough stickers to turn in for a bigger prize. Whether it's training from being a student most of my life or my bent, I like getting feedback that I'm doing the right thing, that I'm doing well. I've unlocked quite a number of achievements so far, but I have a few big ones left undone like getting a job, publishing in journals, and getting tenure. A teaching award would be icing on the cake.
Let us contrast this with being a stay at home mom.
1) I don't like a lot of things that go with motherhood. These include things like being physically miserable, dealing with someone else's body fluids, and a host of things that fall under "not being able to do what I want to do when I want to do it."
2) I have very little idea what I'm doing. Where professionally, I had an advisor who showed me the way and colleagues to work with, I feel fairly alone in this motherhood thing. Not completely, but I certainly don't feel as engaged as I was professionally.
3) There are no mommy merit badges. I want my merit badge for changing 2500 diapers, for taking all the night shifts, for nursing through mastitis, for not screaming or crying when I actually feel bonkers inside. As far as I can tell, there aren't real mom metrics. Your kid is alive still, clothed, and unabused. You're a mom. Yay.
With a comparison like this, it's easy to feel all sorts of negative things. Yet I as I review these sentiments, I am struck by how I have a special opportunity to live by faith and continue to be formed in Christ. I have been reflecting on how a theme in the story of Jesus is that he served individuals and humanity. The king of the universe became a servant. If I say, "I'm on his team," and I do, then my life should look like that too. While part of me resents the unheralded service my life has been "reduced to," I also recognize that the is an opportunity to live in the grace I've been given. And while part of me worries that my career is slipping away from me, I have the opportunity to trust that God is actively interested in my particular life and will take care of me. To top it all off, I have the opportunity to learn all this with a great family. My husband is a great husband and father and my kids are people I'm enjoying getting to know. While my angst is what it is, I have to acknowledge that I am living in grace abounding.
So I've been pondering what is the big deal about getting a job, particularly since my husband provides handsomely for our family?
In no particular order:
1) What I do is fun for me. I like both teaching and research. I whine and moan about aspects of both, but at the end of the day I enjoy them. Part of the fun has been the people. I have worked with fantastic people and on fun projects.
2) I have been heavily invested in. I've been given a lot of money and time by various institutions and people who think I have a particular ability to contribute to society in this way. While they invested with no strings attached--I don't contractually owe anyone anything, I feel a responsibility to this investment similar to the parable of the talents.
3) I like "unlocking achievements". I'm told in video games that when you do enough of X, you "unlock an achievement". Seems like a fancy system of getting enough stickers to turn in for a bigger prize. Whether it's training from being a student most of my life or my bent, I like getting feedback that I'm doing the right thing, that I'm doing well. I've unlocked quite a number of achievements so far, but I have a few big ones left undone like getting a job, publishing in journals, and getting tenure. A teaching award would be icing on the cake.
Let us contrast this with being a stay at home mom.
1) I don't like a lot of things that go with motherhood. These include things like being physically miserable, dealing with someone else's body fluids, and a host of things that fall under "not being able to do what I want to do when I want to do it."
2) I have very little idea what I'm doing. Where professionally, I had an advisor who showed me the way and colleagues to work with, I feel fairly alone in this motherhood thing. Not completely, but I certainly don't feel as engaged as I was professionally.
3) There are no mommy merit badges. I want my merit badge for changing 2500 diapers, for taking all the night shifts, for nursing through mastitis, for not screaming or crying when I actually feel bonkers inside. As far as I can tell, there aren't real mom metrics. Your kid is alive still, clothed, and unabused. You're a mom. Yay.
With a comparison like this, it's easy to feel all sorts of negative things. Yet I as I review these sentiments, I am struck by how I have a special opportunity to live by faith and continue to be formed in Christ. I have been reflecting on how a theme in the story of Jesus is that he served individuals and humanity. The king of the universe became a servant. If I say, "I'm on his team," and I do, then my life should look like that too. While part of me resents the unheralded service my life has been "reduced to," I also recognize that the is an opportunity to live in the grace I've been given. And while part of me worries that my career is slipping away from me, I have the opportunity to trust that God is actively interested in my particular life and will take care of me. To top it all off, I have the opportunity to learn all this with a great family. My husband is a great husband and father and my kids are people I'm enjoying getting to know. While my angst is what it is, I have to acknowledge that I am living in grace abounding.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Marginal living
My mother-in-law is in town and we spent Mon-Thurs carting around town going to doctors' appointments with Lil L in tow. She said she felt bad that she was taking up so much of my time with these appointments. But in truth, for me, the reason why I set aside my career is so that I would have that kind of time. Obviously, when we made the choice, we didn't specifically anticipate that she would be ill and need this kind of medical care and chose to come stay with us while receiving such care.
In our pre-baby days, N and I worked 50+ hr wks while actively serving in the church and for us, we found it was hard to simply be married. We had to work for mere relational maintenance much less relational thriving. I don't know what people see when they see us, but we are not high capacity people. We don't have endless reserves to this, that, and the other. We say no to things for the sake of our own health.
So we did not have tortured discussions about what to do about the crazy life. Given that he earned enough to support us both, it seemed obvious that we should choose a different life when the opportunity presented itself. In 2009, N got two job offers: one for a lucrative start-up in the traditional video game industry and another in an offshoot branch of the game industry that offered better hours. We took the better hours which turned out to be more interesting work and the other company has since downsized. Also in 2009, I finished my degree. Instead of starting a national job search of a tenure-track professorship, I stayed at home with Lil L and did some side gigs.
What we were wanting were margins, unfilled space in life. In our culture of busyness, I think it's easy for Christ followers to believe that a crammed schedule is a spiritual life -- and extra spiritual if a lot of the cramming is from obviously spiritual activity. Instead, we believe that letting go of the crammed schedule, having margins, allows us to experience unique moments of grace. We have time for people in all those unplanned ways; sidewalk conversations with neighbors, extra minutes staring at produce in the grocery store with Lil L, sitting in doctor's offices with my mother-in-law.
This is not to give some bucolic impression of a suburban pastoral (if that's possible). I don't know my mother-in-law well, and we have not been instant buddies. The past week has been a time of intense reflection for me; I have been faced with anger, frustration, and total exhaustion. At the same time, I have learned from my mother-in-law, learned about her, and learned about God's heart for both her and me.
This is also not to say that having one spouse not work for pay is the only way to have margins. As I said, we are not high capacity people; N works in a well-paying field; and I work in a field that tends to be all or nothing. There's not a lot of part-time opportunities.
What I am encouraging is a little more open space in our schedules, a little more marginal living, and a few more unexpected encounters.
For more thoughts on living with margins I recommend (these are not affiliate links):
Margins: Restoring Emotional, Physical, Financial, and Time Reserves to Overloaded Lives by Richard Swenson
--A book directly on this subject
Busier than Ever: Why American Families Can't Slow Down by Darrah, Freeman, and English-Leuck
--An anthropological look at dual-income families in Silicon Valley
In our pre-baby days, N and I worked 50+ hr wks while actively serving in the church and for us, we found it was hard to simply be married. We had to work for mere relational maintenance much less relational thriving. I don't know what people see when they see us, but we are not high capacity people. We don't have endless reserves to this, that, and the other. We say no to things for the sake of our own health.
So we did not have tortured discussions about what to do about the crazy life. Given that he earned enough to support us both, it seemed obvious that we should choose a different life when the opportunity presented itself. In 2009, N got two job offers: one for a lucrative start-up in the traditional video game industry and another in an offshoot branch of the game industry that offered better hours. We took the better hours which turned out to be more interesting work and the other company has since downsized. Also in 2009, I finished my degree. Instead of starting a national job search of a tenure-track professorship, I stayed at home with Lil L and did some side gigs.
What we were wanting were margins, unfilled space in life. In our culture of busyness, I think it's easy for Christ followers to believe that a crammed schedule is a spiritual life -- and extra spiritual if a lot of the cramming is from obviously spiritual activity. Instead, we believe that letting go of the crammed schedule, having margins, allows us to experience unique moments of grace. We have time for people in all those unplanned ways; sidewalk conversations with neighbors, extra minutes staring at produce in the grocery store with Lil L, sitting in doctor's offices with my mother-in-law.
This is not to give some bucolic impression of a suburban pastoral (if that's possible). I don't know my mother-in-law well, and we have not been instant buddies. The past week has been a time of intense reflection for me; I have been faced with anger, frustration, and total exhaustion. At the same time, I have learned from my mother-in-law, learned about her, and learned about God's heart for both her and me.
This is also not to say that having one spouse not work for pay is the only way to have margins. As I said, we are not high capacity people; N works in a well-paying field; and I work in a field that tends to be all or nothing. There's not a lot of part-time opportunities.
What I am encouraging is a little more open space in our schedules, a little more marginal living, and a few more unexpected encounters.
For more thoughts on living with margins I recommend (these are not affiliate links):
Margins: Restoring Emotional, Physical, Financial, and Time Reserves to Overloaded Lives by Richard Swenson
--A book directly on this subject
Busier than Ever: Why American Families Can't Slow Down by Darrah, Freeman, and English-Leuck
--An anthropological look at dual-income families in Silicon Valley
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Tortured inadequacy
I've been thinking about why new motherhood has provoked so much reflection and desire for guidance. Reflecting on reflection, like it? For me, becoming a mother has made me painfully aware of my inadequacies at a time when I was cresting a high point in achievement. I was a couple years into a marriage with my wonderful husband, financially stable (because of him), professionally accomplished and respected, and generally well-regarded in my circle of peers.
One commenter's translation for my grace is sufficient for you has you need nothing more than my grace, in other words, the grace of God is adequate. And not only is the grace of God adequate but it dovetails into completeness when it rests in weakness. The Greek word translated as weakness, astheneia, here refers to an incapacity for something or an experience of limitation. Today, this is good news because this is the way motherhood frequently feels: I am incapable of loving well, limited in my selflessness, lacking in wisdom.
Motherhood, in the early weeks, was like bootcamp: crazy hours, physically demanding, a steep learning curve, and nowhere to hide. You can't imagine having to nurse every 2-3 hours until you have to nurse every 2-3 hours. And in that exhaustion, you have to care for the most helpless, innocent thing who's your child at whom you get frustrated, whom you are tempted to shake into silence, and who has conditions you don't know how to evaluate as medically serious or not. Mebbe this doesn't dump some women into the inadequacy pool, but it sure dumped me there. While my daughter is well out of those early feed-a-thons, I continue to find myself challenged. I'm less challenged physically having learned more of less how to keep pace, but I am more challenged emotionally as she blossoms into personhood. Can I put aside my to-do list to interact with her wholeheartedly? Can I speak kindly when our wills are opposed? Will I pause in the "doing" to tell her I love her? Honestly, a lot of times the answer is No and I know that.
And while I could despair in this, the following promise brings hope:
9But [Jesus] said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.
~Paul's second letter to the Corinthians, chapter 12
I have many questions about what the future holds and I often wonder if I will have the wherewithal to make the tough decisions. This passage reminds me that I probably don't have the wherewithal and that's ok because the grace of God will fill in the gaps gladly. It will even fill the gap of questioning whether gaps can be filled. Filling in gaps about gaps being filled, like it?
--
This post is part of an ongoing series I am writing along with the author of On Expecting
This post is part of an ongoing series I am writing along with the author of On Expecting
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Conflicting voices
I missed last week because I have been struggling between competing views on motherhood. In one camp, the 60s feminists reject the patriarchy of the 50s that told them "Father knows best" and that women were only for the home. Instead women are men; in fact, better versions of men with breasts and wombs. Anything you can do I can do better. Birth control and nannies open up endless possibilities to climb to the top of anything. In the other camp, evangelical women reject the rejection of the 60s feminists and say, "Wait a minute, mothering matters! It matters more than you would know." Just as hired hands don't care for the sheep the way the shepherd does, no one is going to love your kid more than you do, so hop to it. If you love Jesus, you won't work outside the home. At 30, I feel just young enough to have missed all of this. None of these ideologies are mine. I have never lived in a world where women weren't allowed to try for any career they wanted and where women haven't significantly contributed to making the world a better place in public fora.
I'm posting not because I've come to any conclusions about this but I'm trying to nail down why it's been so hard to pull together thoughts. So here are some observations.
What I see here are women with publicly applied skills many of whom, given the culture they lived in, probably had husbands and children. What does this mean for us today? I don't know, but that's what I see.
--
This post is part of an ongoing series I am writing along with the author of On Expecting
I'm posting not because I've come to any conclusions about this but I'm trying to nail down why it's been so hard to pull together thoughts. So here are some observations.
- I think that in addition to a theology of motherhood or family, we need a theology of work particularly skilled work that takes training.
- We carry a lot of cultural baggage that makes developing any theology difficult or makes developing an honest theology that isn't just us stuffing ourselves into what we want the Bible to say difficult.
- Our cultural baggage includes the false dichotomy of either being a stay at home, home schooling mom OR being a secular, working woman.
- Our cultural baggage also includes the sense that work endows us with our identity AND is meaningless.
10Samuel told all the words of the LORD to the people who were asking him for a king. 11 He said, "This is what the king who will reign over you will do: He will take your sons and make them serve with his chariots and horses, and they will run in front of his chariots...He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers.
~I Samuel, chapter 8
1After this, Jesus traveled about from one town and village to another, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God. The Twelve were with him, 2and also some women who had been cured of evil spirits and diseases: Mary (called Magdalene) from whom seven demons had come out; 3Joanna the wife of Cuza, the manager of Herod's household; Susanna; and many others. These women were helping to support them out of their own means.
~The Gospel according to Luke, chapter 8
What I see here are women with publicly applied skills many of whom, given the culture they lived in, probably had husbands and children. What does this mean for us today? I don't know, but that's what I see.
--
This post is part of an ongoing series I am writing along with the author of On Expecting
Friday, January 1, 2010
Fiat Lux
Yesterday night, we (almost) rang in the new year watching Space Cowboys. The movie describes the efforts of four men to finally make it into space 40 years after they were ripped off the program. Of course, they make it to space and one turns to the other and says, "This was worth the wait." The cosmos is awe inspiring, and the mere footage of earth below never ceases to grip me.
Today, I read Genesis 1-5. It feels like it's been a long time since I read over the familiar words of Genesis 1. This passage gives an account of God creating the universe. "Fiat Lux" is the concise Latin rendering of "Let there be light." In fiat's verb form there is imperial power where speech and will are transformed into substance and action. It's like the curl of the conductor's baton that sets the orchestra in motion. That power is unleashed repeatedly as God forms and fills the earth.
The magnitude of that power highlights my miserly faith. Instead of living confidently that such a God can take care of me, I doubt and laughably attempt to apply my will and my force to bend the universe to my needs and wants. What a joke. Right? Reading the creation story is always like spiritual chiropractry.
But then comes verses 26-28, "Then God said, 'Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.' So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. God blessed them and said to them, 'Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it.'"
Just as I am feeling exceptionally small, feeling in absolute awe of a being with the power to hang the earth in its orbit, I read about being made in the image of God. I imagine that if I were kneeling before the Queen and she told me to stand, that these might share similar feelings. I want to poke myself and say, "My flesh and bones are made in the image of God?" Not that I know precisely what that means. I mean, up to that point, all that has been discussed about God is his ridiculously amazing, creative power. Does that mean I have something like that? Whatever it exactly is, it feels ennobling like I've been given a mission and responsibility. As it turns out, after designating humans as creatures made in his image, God designates them rulers over the earth and tells them to be fruitful and increase in number. Mission: be fruitful and increase in number; responsibility: rule and subdue the earth.
While I don't think that every couple has to have kids, it does seem that a goodly portion should if that increasing in number thing is to happen. Another new mom and I are wondering what the Bible has to say to us as mothers. We are both highly educated professionals who feel a lot of tension between our child rearing and our careers. I think this passage affirms the goodness of our role and responsibilities as mothers, an affirmation we do not receive professionally. I also think it affirms our professional work insofar as our labor extends the dominion of God, something that can be discussed at greater length another day.
Today, I read Genesis 1-5. It feels like it's been a long time since I read over the familiar words of Genesis 1. This passage gives an account of God creating the universe. "Fiat Lux" is the concise Latin rendering of "Let there be light." In fiat's verb form there is imperial power where speech and will are transformed into substance and action. It's like the curl of the conductor's baton that sets the orchestra in motion. That power is unleashed repeatedly as God forms and fills the earth.
The magnitude of that power highlights my miserly faith. Instead of living confidently that such a God can take care of me, I doubt and laughably attempt to apply my will and my force to bend the universe to my needs and wants. What a joke. Right? Reading the creation story is always like spiritual chiropractry.
But then comes verses 26-28, "Then God said, 'Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.' So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. God blessed them and said to them, 'Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it.'"
Just as I am feeling exceptionally small, feeling in absolute awe of a being with the power to hang the earth in its orbit, I read about being made in the image of God. I imagine that if I were kneeling before the Queen and she told me to stand, that these might share similar feelings. I want to poke myself and say, "My flesh and bones are made in the image of God?" Not that I know precisely what that means. I mean, up to that point, all that has been discussed about God is his ridiculously amazing, creative power. Does that mean I have something like that? Whatever it exactly is, it feels ennobling like I've been given a mission and responsibility. As it turns out, after designating humans as creatures made in his image, God designates them rulers over the earth and tells them to be fruitful and increase in number. Mission: be fruitful and increase in number; responsibility: rule and subdue the earth.
While I don't think that every couple has to have kids, it does seem that a goodly portion should if that increasing in number thing is to happen. Another new mom and I are wondering what the Bible has to say to us as mothers. We are both highly educated professionals who feel a lot of tension between our child rearing and our careers. I think this passage affirms the goodness of our role and responsibilities as mothers, an affirmation we do not receive professionally. I also think it affirms our professional work insofar as our labor extends the dominion of God, something that can be discussed at greater length another day.
--
This post is part of an ongoing series I am writing along with the author of On Expecting
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