A recent Facebook discussion got me thinking about my decision to go to grad school. That, and The Rainbow Connection cycled through on the kids' Pandora station today and it's been on the back of my mind. The song and my decision are actually related. So hold on to your seats for a little walk down memory lane (I love it when a mixing of metaphors is contradictory!).
I went back and forth about grad school a lot before I even applied. Part of me always wanted to do it for the same reason I wanted to get straight As. What was that reason? I'm still not quite sure. I still can't articulate it satisfactorily. But I hit a point around the ripe old age of 23 or so where I decided that I was going to just do my life and stop waiting around for things out of my control. See, my first choice job has always been an all-the-time, in-your-face, nurture-iffic mom. And I didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize my availability for that. So I turned down secondary education because I knew that was a one or the other job for me. But I also knew that I would be a really, really, really good teacher and that I would love it. So then I decided that getting more education and teaching college classes would be more ideal, definitely more flexible and if I never did get a shot at that first choice job, I'd at least have something to do that I loved, was good at, and that I found meaning in.
So I went for it. I wrote a 90+ page honor's thesis, I took the GRE, I learned Spanish, and I did it. I found out I was accepted to UT a few weeks after I had met Eric and I had committed to go a few weeks before we got serious. (yeah, we moved fast)
Most of my family assumed that now that I'd found my man that my plan of going to grad school, which had become a sort of dream during the few years previous, would be tossed aside. Eric had a good job in Vegas, we had family there, I was all set to graduate with my BA, it sounded nice and tidy. I could settle into my first-choice job quite nicely. I had said I was ready. But there was something about grad school I couldn't totally let go of, even though in my heart, I was sooooo ready to start a family.
Towards the end of the summer, when Eric and I knew we would get married, but months and months before we actually got engaged, I was at his house working on statistics, with his help, of course. And The Rainbow Connection, Sarah McLaughlin version, cycled through on the iPod. The line
"Have you been half asleep, or have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name.
Is it the sweet sound that calls the young sailors?
The voice might be one and the same.
I've heard it too many times to ignore it,
its something that I'm supposed to be..."
Now, I've always loved that song, and been fascinated by the cadence made up entirely of a repeating fifth interval. But that day, crazy as it sounds, the Spirit touched me through that song. There was something in Texas for me, something that I was supposed to become. And I needed to go. For me.
We went for a walk one evening to talk about it. I remember it so clearly, the light in Vegas is so hot that it changes the shape and feel of the shadows. The air felt clearer that night, as hot and stifling as it should have been, I breathed deep on that walk and Eric and counseled about this decision. One of the first things that caught my eye about Eric was when I told him I was headed to grad school and he was impressed with that and didn't see that as an obstacle to pursuing me. If it was right, he'd follow me. (Granted, in those early months, he didn't think I'd actually go). We both agreed, I needed to go.
So I went. And for a majority of the time, I hated it. It was, in a lot of ways, a soul-crushing experience. It deadened inside of me a lot of the things I had loved about literature and theory. It deflated my creativity. And I wondered oh-so-many times what the heck I had done. Now, there were bright spots. There were some truly amazing people I met. There was so much I learned about myself without even realizing I was learning. There were some really exciting moments intellectually, all though a whole lot fewer than I ever thought there would be. There was also a lot of growing up (and I thought, and I think I was, really mature). I did get my Master's Degree there, but also more debt. And for a few years I wondered what the point of it was, what I had really gotten out of it. See, I couldn't point my finger at any one thing I got, that was truly useful to my eternal development.
We left Austin a little over three years ago. We are back in Idaho, living in my parent's house while my husband looks for a legal job in the crappiest legal economy ever. My Master's degree got me a pretty sweet regular tutoring job that I can bring my kids to. I'm also teaching a night class for the local community college, and that is truly a delightful experience. I can see the forest for the trees now. I can see that it was worth it for the opportunities I now have. But, more than that, I can feel the Rainbow Connection. So often in our lives, in our decisions, we stand at one end of the rainbow wondering what's on the other side. The rainbow isn't something we can touch or measure or quantify, so something in us turns to song to process it. I'd been singing my rainbow song for years trying to make sense of myself, my desires, my femininity, my responsibility, my thoughts, and how all of that fit into the world. I had heard something calling my name, but I thought it was coming from outside. I thought I had an external journey, more learning and training, to go on in order to become whatever it was I was supposed to be.
I think I am the rainbow. All of us are. And we stand at one end wondering where the other end is going to end up. Wondering what we are, what we are made of and yet amazed and awed by the potential within us. And that's the voice, calling us to recognize and nourish the seeds of divinity within.
In my religion and in the culture that has grown out of it, there is a great focus on the sanctity of motherhood and that crowning blessing of all men and women that is children and family. There were times that I wondered if that was the "all" there was to my worth. I had no idea how vast and expansive that "all" was, which I chuckle about all the time now. And even though I wanted husband, children, family more than any other thing in the world, I also didn't want to become defined only by them. I'm essentializing here, but it seems that women are so good at losing themselves to that or who they love, whether that's loved ones, work, a cause, a hobby, whatever. And not in "he that loseth his life for My sake shall find it" sort of way, but the Lost and Never Found sort of way. In my church, I have been asked to teach the 12 and 13 year old girls once a week on a set of proscribed lesson materials. And I worry what message they are hearing. I want them to hear the Lord's. I want them to hear the Spirit's. And I want them to hear their own. I want them to hear their own call, because that's who they are.
And let's end with a Regina Spektor Connection:
It started out as a feeling
Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word
And then that word grew louder and louder
'Til it was a battle cry
I'll come back
When you call me
No need to say goodbye
You know, the life of a young mother is one of little time for yourself. And I hope that every woman, before she enters into that amazing responsibility and joy, also has the opportunity to answer her own call, or at least hear the "quiet word." I want her to get a sense of who she is before she is Mother and Everything to her little ones, so that it doesn't get drowned out or turned off or lost. Because life moves on, children grow, and then there is time and opportunity and so much skill and passion in us to shout our battle cry. When we "return" from our motherly missions, we'll be ready to answer another call. There is no need to say goodbye.
