Monday, February 25, 2013

I'm glad I didn't know you then.

As we sit around the living room at Derrick's parents' house, the conversation turns to work. It usually does with three of us working at the same institution. Talk casually turns to history, great bosses, and personal experiences throughout our short history at UD. A flood of memories come rushing through my brain as we talk, and in my usual far-too-candid way, I recount memories of a different time, a different me when I was younger, louder, bolder, and I was sure "right-er". Memories of me yelling at coworkers, of slammed doors and planned escape routes, of plots of hostile takeovers. These stories came forth as if I was reading a fiction novel aloud. 

"I think I'm glad I didn't know you then," she says. Annalee always has a way with honest words. Then, with a little more reflection she added, "It's sort of amazing that you didn't get fired." 

It is sort of amazing. The department was in turmoil, relationships were frayed, we were all overworked, under-appreciated, and dealing with more stress that any one year should throw at you. And in the middle of it all, there I was. Yelling, throwing fits, slamming doors, sneaking around, deliberately disobeying. I played the newbie card a lot ("I didn't know. I'm new still."). I played the arrogance card a lot ("I'm right, you're wrong. Deal with it."). Looking back, I wonder who that person was. Where did she come from? How did she get that way? 

Times have changed. People have come and gone. And somehow, five years later, I'm still here. And somehow, I've changed. In the growing up and the growing old, I have not completely lost my fire, and the propensity for the occasional tantrum still lives in my belly. I have not completely grown wise, as the shoulder angel and demon still whisper arguments of proper behavior and decisions in my ears. I have not completely figured it all out yet. In fact, perhaps the opposite has happened - the older I get, the less sure I am about how I right I might be. 

I look back on many a chicken scratch tucked away in old notebooks, unpublished blog entries still in draft form hidden from view, and the memories of what seems now like a former existence altogether. And one theme sticks out. Grace. Oh the grace of patient coworkers, of caring bosses, of family and friends around me. I could have been beaten into submission, snuffed out of power and privilege, left to learn lessons on my own in the cold corners of the harsh world. But I wasn't. Somehow, I was nurtured. I was cared for. I was encouraged. I was given second (and third and fourth) chances. 

Part of me wants to erase the ugly bit of personal history. Part of me wants to sweep it under a rug or hide it in a dark closet. I wish it wouldn't have happened that way. "I'm glad I didn't know you then," cuts to a person's innermost parts because I can't separate the Lindsey of then with the Lindsey of now. But God's grace is lavishly evident in my life, shown through the people all around me, through the second chances, through the growing, and forgiveness, and relationships, and joy. Without the past as it was, I can't exist as I am. And with that knowledge, I can humbly own my history, even though it wasn't pretty or pleasant, because without it God might not have started growing me. And grow me He has, and is, and will. I bear His image, though imperfectly, and mostly through the lens of grace, and through the growth that only a good and loving God can provide.

Tuesday, February 05, 2013

Embracing Adulthood: Sharing Lessons I Learned the Hard Way

Today, I had a heart-to-heart with a few students, and as I was talking to them, I found myself pausing, thinking, "Am I talking to a younger me right now?" 

I started listening to myself, really listening to what I was telling these young women in my office. And after they left, I sort of chuckled. The very things I was telling them were the very things that others had told me only a few years before. I envisioned myself in similar situations as these young women faced and realized that I would have probably handled things how they had just a few short years ago. But now, there's the whole new perspective that I view the world with, a new attitude, maybe even a thin layer of wisdom that keeps me from repeating (most of) the mistakes of my youth. 

A year or two ago, I found myself in this place that I didn't really want to be. Not quite young but not quiet grown up. Not quite wise but not really a fool. Not quite mature but not completely immature either. I watched the real grown-ups around me making even-keeled decisions as I flipped out, remaining calm when I wanted to shout. As I made mistakes, stumbled and staggered through the not-quite-adulthood I had found myself in, I grew more and more frustrated just wanting to be "there", arriving at full, mastered adulthood.

Today, I'm still certainly not the sage, calm, even-keeled adult that I dream of one day becoming, but my how I've grown. And continue to grow. Today was just such a clear reminder of that, that it's time to embrace the wisdom-seeking adult that I'm becoming. I guess sometimes it takes a little-you in front of you to show you how not-so-little you are.

Monday, February 04, 2013

Finding the who-I-am in the what-I-do

I have entered an interesting season in this Year of Go, a season of discipline. This semester is gearing up to be one of the most challenging of my life, but I look ahead with confidence that what needs to be done can get done. 

Am I going to be working a lot of hours? Undeniably. Am I actually going to be working two, maybe three peoples' jobs at some point? Certainly. Am I going to still be a full-time doctoral student working on both a content course and the beginnings of a dissertation? Hopefully. Will I move a few professionals from multiple office spaces to a new office home? Sure thing. All the while making students, faculty, and staff members believe that my job and life is easy? *Breaking a sweat now* but sure. And making sure to continue to pay attention to the few shreds of relationships I have left? I will, yes.

My coping mechanism for this monster ahead of me? Discipline. I think there are probably many ways to handle such a year. Some people would drop commitments right and left. Some people would may run away. Or curl up in the fetal position in a dark corner somewhere. I am trying to be proactive. A new schedule is emerging that will define my life pretty distinctly in the next six months or more. 

6am-alarm
7am-homework
8:30am-work
12pm-lunch
12:30pm-homework
evening-run, homework, personal reading
10:30pm-get ready for bed
11pm-sleep

Lather. Rinse. Repeat. 

I've also given up watching television. Let's face it, I'm generally not all that entertained anyway when it's on. It's expensive. And it's a HUGE time suck. Gone. And, for some reason, I've added a few additional disciplines: personal reading and a running class. 

I was asked yesterday, "What are you learning through all of this new-found discipline?" and at the time, I didn't really have a good answer. But today, on the drive home, I think I realized what I was learning: who I am and what I'm made to do. This may sound a bit lofty and somewhat ridiculous. What could I possibly learn about who I am through a crazy season of overcommitment and military-like precision? Our lives are defined by the what-we-do of everyday. The what-we-do forms us into who we are. When we consume our time with junk TV and violent video games, those things become a part of who we are. When we fill our time with volunteer work, hobbies, work, beautiful music, the great outdoors...the what-we-do forms the who-we-are. This season, intentionally or not, is shaping who I am becoming.  I don't know how exactly to articulate the who-I-am just yet in relation to the what-I-do, but at the very least, I know that this is fueled by an unquenchable passion to love God and love people. And the what-I-do of everyday, the constant alarms and meeting reminders, the book clubs, the homework, the time put into it all, is creating a better me for God's glory. 

Bring on the discipline, the structure, and the fullness. I rejoice in the opportunity to learn who God has created me to be and what He's created me to do through this journey. And now, my alarm says its time to get ready for bed. 6am comes around pretty quickly.