Such a Girl

Sometimes I wish I wasn't so much of a girl. I mean, clearly, I am indeed a female...not sure there's any confusion there. But some females are rational, calm, even-keeled people. Others deal with a mess of emotions, looks, reflections, crazily analyzing everything to death... That second one, that's totally me. I read this usually satirical, hilarious blog about Christian living that makes fun of reserved pews, drums in church, worship leader dress codes...but this one reminded me a little too much of me: http://bit.ly/KRuIas. 

I am SUCH a girl. 

I spend a lot of time fighting my girl-nature. I try to look "natural" but always end up wearing makeup. I try to sit quietly and enjoy conversation around me but usually end up talking too much. I buy clothes that make me feel like a pretty princess. I try to keep my emotions in check but end up crying at pretty much every emotion (afraid? yep. overjoyed? yep. overwhelmed? oh, yes.). I like having my nails done. I like dresses. I like curls in my hair. I think about everything way too much. Everything. All the time. I've actually even had people tell me that maybe I just need a break from reflecting on everything so much and just try to enjoy things for what they are. Far too much thinking. 

But here's the thing about girl-nature: God made women. And God made men. And God made them drastically different so that they could compliment each other. If we were the same, we just wouldn't. And we wouldn't need each other. 

Men's hearts don't necessarily always dwell on things like women's. They can process information far more objectively. Thank goodness for that! Men are brave and fearless and strong; they protect and shelter and give of themselves in their strengths...because they were made that way. And women feel deeply, love deeply, dwell in moments and create significance out of them; they give of themselves in their own strengths...because they were made that way.

I believe that men and women were made differently to represent to the world different facets of our Creator, a complex and wonderful God. Together we tell the story of salvation to the world around us, just by living into who were are. And one day, that love story that we tell in a fractured, frail way during our time on earth will be told perfectly in the return of Jesus to reclaim us as His own. 

So, let me change a previous statement... I AM such a girl. I was created that way. My femininity complements men's masculinity because it is supposed to just as God's strength compliments our weakness because it is supposed to. So here's to mascara, pink dresses, do-I-look-pretty-Daddy?'s, tears in all circumstances, just the right pair of shoes, too much reflection, analyzing everything, talking too much, sappy movies, intoxicating perfumes, and blushing at compliments. I'm God's girl, and He created me in just that way.

Funny how attending a wedding of a good friend gets a girl thinking about such things...

A Real Professional?

Today, for the first time in a while, I felt like a REAL professional. Now don't get me wrong. I've been a professional for a number of years, clearly working in the field that I have a passion for, even seeing a few successes along the way. But today, two things happened that made me pause and think that perhaps I'm a full-fledged grown up now. 

First, I was taken out to lunch by an administrator...nothing too terribly new here. I've been taken out to lunch before and taken folks out to lunch before. But this one struck me as a little bit different, a little bit more of a glimpse into the world that I will more than likely one day be a part of. We went to the Country Club. Now, don't laugh. I know it wasn't any big deal. But there were sharply dressed golfers here and there. Well-off families and children were swimming in the private pool. The standard apparel for all employees was a navy blazer with gold buttons. Every third car (including the one that escorted me to lunch) was a BMW. And we walked in to a whole slue of "Hello, Mr. Dendy!"s and "How are you today, Mr. Dendy?"s. I felt out of place to say the least. 

I'm not an administrator. I'm not wealthy. I don't golf. But someday I will probably be an administrator. The wealth at this point is questionable (silly economy). But shoot. At some point in my adult life, I'm probably going to have to learn to play golf. How, exactly, did that end up being the affluent professional's game of choice anyway? Perhaps I will set this as one of my first goals after I complete my degree so that I'm not learning in a panic when I'm fifty and applying for my first presidency when I suddenly get invited to play a round as a way to get to know the administrators at a prospective school. And certainly fundraising is impossible without golf, right? Golf outings seem to be the standard in professional fundraising efforts these days.

The other, far less surreal but far more significant REAL professional quantifier happened when I got a phone call from one of my favorite faculty on campus. I answered and she said, "Pack your bags, we're going to Indiana." Of course, I knew what she meant. Our proposal to present at a national conference had been accepted. This is huge first in my career trajectory. Conference presentations typically lead to further invites, potential publication, and some peer notoriety, all of which will become crucial as I work to set myself apart from all the other middle managers out there trying to work their way to the top. A not-so-secret goal of mine is to have at least one article published in a journal prior to completing my dissertation. The reason? If for nothing else, I would revel in the opportunity to cite myself as a source in my own dissertation. Because really, how many people can say they did that? 

After all of the cloud floating that happened today, I was quickly brought back down to earth this evening as I returned to my messy, perhaps-a-teenager-lives-here house, my unmade bed, my piles of laundry, and my list of homework assignments to complete. As much as I felt like a real professional today, I now feel in equal measure like a real adolescent. But the truth is, that most days I live somewhere in between. Content to be one of the younger ones at the table while still taking the opportunity every now and then to command a room's attention as a professional. Leaving the dishes on the counter while still managing to get the bills and loans and mortgage paid. Running around in flip-flops while occasionally donning the one power suit I own. I kind of hope I never lose all of my inner kid style. Can a university president be a bit of a prankster? Are windows-down-stereo-up attitudes permitted from time to time in a professional's world? Perhaps as long as I take time for a round or two of golf...

The Patience Perspective

I've probably written about this before, but I am not a very patient person. In general, I don't like to wait, or maybe just don't think I should have to wait for things. Sayings like "Good things come to those who wait," are usually completely lost on me. I've been known to forge ahead blindly, push hard to get what I want, and sometimes even blow on stoplights to make them turn green (Corrina, Corrina reference). When people tell me they're praying for patience for me, I tell them to STOP IT! Do you know what God does when someone prays for patience? That's right. He gives them opportunities to practice it. No thank you. 

But like it or not, the last four weeks have become a bit of an exercise in patience, as I have been working through a silly little foot injury. I don't consider myself a running nut by any means. I've never done a marathon; in fact, I'm still contemplating my first half marathon. I don't run just everyday. But I did have a goal this year. I wanted to run 500 miles this calendar year. And I really just plain love running. It's my space, my breathing room, my energy booster. And four weeks without something you love is a really long time. Especially in peak season. Especially when there's a goal on the line. 

I've done pretty well to be patient during this time. I have listened to doctors. Rested A LOT. Tried other workouts. Today I was given permission to test the waters after a month of rest, and I was not optimistic. I figured I would head out the door, down the hill, and hit my favorite trail just in time to be in a lot of pain and grumpily mope back to the house. Not exactly the best attitude, I know. But I was pleasantly surprised after the first five minutes to still be pain free. So I went a little further. But then, something clicked in my head, and I thought take it easy. When all I wanted to do was get out there and pound out a mean five miles, my patience actually kicked in all by itself. A nice steady slow start this week and next may be just what I need to actually remain pain free instead of just be hurting again tomorrow. This natural patience thing kind of caught me off guard, and I'm sure it is not going to be a universal application in my life suddenly, but it's certainly a start, right?

I learned a little something else about patience this time around. Sometimes when we're forced to wait on something, we get creative. Sure, waiting sometimes has its merits, but when it doesn't, it turns out that there is more than one way to get from point A to point B. For me, not running gave me a new temporary mission: find a bike. And yesterday, I bought a used road bike as a means of working out while giving my foot a little more rest. Why I didn't think of that four weeks ago is beyond me, but hey, I'm new to this patience thing, so give me a break. 

I'm sure that whether prayerfully requested or strategically absent from my prayers, patience is something that God is going to work on me either way throughout my life. I will probably kick and scream the whole way, but eventually, I might even grow a little. All that from a broken foot? Not a bad lesson or two. Thanks, God.