A Soggy Story

Having just come off of the Thanksgiving holiday and having recently spent time reflecting on the things for which I am thankful I, of course, feel a renewed sense of gratitude for the obviously meaningful things in life; home, family, provision, country. I am very grateful for those things and, unfortunately, far too often take them for granted although I try to remember to be thankful for every little detail of life.

I had one of those little ‘detail of life’ moments recently and I admit, as silly and simple as it was, it brought me joy and thankfulness for the way I sometimes get cut a break even when I don’t deserve it.

Last summer I collected a number of books from the library that I planned to read or scan to see if I could use them for my dissertation and, if so, if I needed to purchase them or simply borrow from the library. I try to buy as few as possible due to the cost involved but in some cases I know I’ll use a book extensively and it makes more sense to purchase it.

Such was the case with Methods of Critical Discourse Analysis. Snappy title and all, I knew I needed this book in my collection. But, I had recently resigned from my full-time job and money was feeling a little tight so I hadn’t made any effort to buy the book, just made a note to myself that I should.

Late in the summer I got up early on a Saturday morning and took my nice steaming cup of coffee and oh so exciting Methods of Critical Discourse Analysis book outdoors to sit in the porch swing by our pond with the pretty little waterfall . It was a beautiful sunny morning. Birds and squirrels did their bird and squirrel things. The sun was warm but not hot. In all it felt pretty idyllic. Later Steve joined me and we sat reading for a good bit of the morning. When we went indoors to refill our coffee we decided to get around and go do some errands we had planned for the day. Shortly thereafter we left the house, ran our errands and were out for several hours.

During our time away from the house cloud cover began to build to the west. It built to the point of bursting and when the clouds drifted over our house they opened up and dumped a doozey of a rain and hail storm. By the time we arrived at home again the storm had all but finished, the temperature had dropped considerably and evening was settling in.

Much later, when it was dark, Steve went out in the backyard for some reason and when he came in he was carrying the Methods of Critical Discourse Analysis book I had carelessly left in the backyard. He carried it by one corner and all the way in the house the book produced a steady drip of rainwater. All attempts at drying the book failed and I finally resorted to just letting it air dry knowing that I would now be buying the book in its waterlogged, crinkled and slightly musty smelling condition.

Of course, I had planned to buy the book used and at the lowest price possible. I dreaded talking with anyone at the library to find out how much I would have to pay for my forgetfulness believing that I would pay top dollar for damaging a book owned by the state of Colorado! I renewed it until I couldn’t renew anymore and finally, one day last week I went into the library to see how much I was going to pay. The answer, much to my surprise was $40! Forty dollars? I expected to pay far more than that! But indeed, the book came from outside the library district and for some reason the flat fee for replacing an out of district book is $40. So, I happily paid for it and came home to search for what it would have cost me if I hadn’t let it sit outside in a drenching rain storm.

The least expensive copy I could find was $140! My irresponsibility had saved me $100! Now granted, the pages don’t exactly bend and it doesn’t lie flat but still…I saved a lot of money with that deal! The content remains the same even if it smells a little bit when I open it!

So, in my review of things for which I am thankful, I added that sometimes when my own actions are foolish or irresponsible and I don't deserve it, I am cut a break. I didn’t want to gloss over that because I don’t think it is insignificant.

I think that is what we call grace.

I Love My Life

I’ve had an interesting encounter with stress recently. Actually I’ve had an encounter with peace. But my encounter with peace led me understand the degree to which I had been living with stress and the contrast between the two was far more powerful than I’d ever realized.

Let me back up a little.

For several years I stayed home with my children. I educated them at home until my oldest started high school and for those years I lived a relatively low stress life. I know there are those who think raising children is extremely difficult. Those people would be right! But I always felt that I was working with people whom I adored and, sure, we had rough days but in the end spending my time with them is what I most wanted to do.

When my children started attending public school, I decided to pursue the doctorate I had put on hold while they were growing up. Full-time school and part-time work led to full-time work and part-time school. I finished my coursework and started working on my dissertation. Along the way I added an adjunct teaching job to the full-time job, dissertation and family. I was pretty sure I could handle it all. Afterall, like many growing up in the 60’s and 70s, I survived crazy, dysfunctional, addicted parents. Juggling several large jobs should be easy in comparison!

Like the few extra pounds that gradually accumulate, my busy schedule didn’t happen overnight. I took on a little here and adjusted; a little there and adjusted. I didn’t feel the pressure building. Rather, I didn’t think I felt the pressure building. In hindsight, I realize some of the things I love and enjoy most in life ceased to be nearly as fun. The constant voice in my conscience was reminding me of all the things I wasn’t getting accomplished. There was never enough time.

A series of events led to my feeling that something needed to change. I wasn’t sure how to articulate my desires. I’m not even sure I knew what I needed to do. But when Steve rather apologetically approached me one evening with the suggestion that I resign from my jobs and just focus my time on helping our daughter adjust to high school and writing my dissertation I immediately burst into tears. Clearly he had touched a nerve. In the true spirit of a soulmate, he spoke my heart.

We set a plan in motion and before long I was leaving my professional position and my teaching role. I loved and was good at both of them but I knew that I was stepping into greater freedom. It didn’t happen all at once though. It took weeks for me to stop the feelings of being under pressure. It took even longer for me to stop feeling I was too idle.

Yesterday I awoke to a quiet house and the smell of coffee brewing. Before getting out of bed I took a little time to inventory my life and my first thought was….I love my life. I set goals for how much of my dissertation to write each day. Some days go better than others but as I make steady progress I know I’ll finish in due time. I’m often surprised, but not dismayed, by how much all of my children still need me as they grow up and emerge into adulthood. Could I have been as available to them if I hadn’t made a dramatic change? Of course not!

I don’t have a salary. I don’t have a title. I’m good with that. What I have is time. Time to live and love and enjoy. Time to complete my dream of earning a doctorate but most importantly, time to be present for and with the people who are my life. Time without stress. Time with peace.

I love my life.