Time changes have boggled my mind since I was young and we would travel to Colorado to visit my paternal grandparents. Suddenly Wheel of Fortune was on an hour earlier. What sorcery was this! Sorcery, being what it usually amounts to, was a human demarcation that Colorado existed in a state precisely one hour earlier than Oklahoma did. To make things even more difficult, Florida and Disney World lived in the future. Being in the central timezone, I was acutely aware that the future was on one side of me and the past on the other. To this day, I still can't help but feel that, while I know "understand" time zones, my present is the actual present and the future has already happened, the world just hasn't spun me into it yet.
Which is all to say that I still have difficulty remembering that time zones mean at a certain point in my morning, my dad has already gone to bed- or that waiting on news from a time zone ahead of me is contingent on my time still being within their work day. So when I submitted an application for the PhD in Theology/Divinity program at the University of Aberdeen back in December, I had to consciously remind myself that we were 7 hours behind them. Assuming that their workday ends at 5 pm, I should expect no correspondence from them after 10 am.
So 10 am came and went day in and day out. The stroke of an hour both a relief that I wouldn't hear bad news that day, but also an aggravation because it meant I wouldn't hear any news either.
To back this up... I had assumed for a very long time that I would end up in graduate school. Being in a classroom for me is like being a fish in water. I breathe more easily. I navigate more fluidly. I'm generally a happier person. There was nothing in my past, save a few miserable math classes, to lead me to believe otherwise. But I also didn't want to be someone who was in school because they didn't want to live int he real world. A PhD program is a lot of work. It would mean not being in Houston. It would mean us essentially living on a single income. I didn't want to make Jack follow me somewhere unless I was positive, but I think in reality I didn't want to apply and be rejected, to have this image of myself as a person who belonged in school to be shattered. Because if I took the chance and failed then I couldn't take the chance again, but the more I tried to eradicate the idea from my life the more it kept creeping up.
And then Dr. Still showed up to teach Wednesday night bible study at South Main back in November and asked me why I hadn't applied and I had to admit that it was because of fear. Being his usual Dr. Still self, he encouraged me to apply, and then I sat in my car and burst into tears because I knew he was right.
Which leads me to December. To say that I agonized over applying is bit of an understatement. There were many pro/con lists. Many lists with Jack's comments scribbled on the side. Many emails to a potential professor (and one very early Skype meeting). Many conversations with both Chris and Sarah about the prospect of us going to the other side of the pond (they were very enthusiastic and have continued to be very helpful). Many revisions of a research proposal and the terrible personal statement. Many furious emails with registrars and degree verification representatives. Many arguments with myself about if this even had a remote possibility of working. Jack is an absolutely fabulous person to have around you in times of extreme self-doubt. His unchecked optimism that we were indeed going to be moving to Scotland balanced out my own reservations that this would be an unmitigated disaster in getting my hopes up. But the professor seemed really interesting and friendly, Jack seemed enthusiastic, and without any application fee there really wasn't anything to lose by submitting an application other than pride.
So it went through the magical internet tubes and I waited. Waiting is particularly hard when there are only a dozen people who know that you are waiting (including the professors writing me letters of recommendation).
And waited.
And waited. Every morning holding my breath for 10 am to come and pass.
And then one day at 9:58 am, when I had more or less given up hope of a response that day, the email came- sliding along those same tubes- congratulating me on my acceptance to the program. Even today, almost 3 months later, my heart beat still increases remembering the anticipation of reading the yes or no.
Because sometimes a yes or no will make all the difference in the world.
Because sometimes you catch your breath by diving into the deep end.
Because sometimes the future is just waiting for you to revolve into it.
So today I can add to my blog two things I've secretly been wanting to add for years, and been guarding close to me heart for months- living aboard and getting into a PhD program.
Jack and I will be leaving in early September for Scotland. I'll be studying Bonhoeffer's ecclesiology as a lens for modern political theology and ethics in a post-modern church, specifically how the church responds to an explosive globalization and individualization. I'm giddy with excitement and nerdiness.I'm also terribly sad (we both are) to be moving away from family and friends and communities that we love in Houston. It'll be Jack's first time living outside of Houston. We're trying to cram a lot into the next few months of Texasness. We're still working out the details of much of it, but we're anticipating the big adventure to come (and immensely grateful for how supportive they've both been through all of this, and how remarkably unsurprised they were that I wanted to apply for a PhD program). We hope you come visit! Scotland is lovely and I won't make you eat haggis. That's not true, I will probably try to make you eat haggis.
But yes. Scotland. Bonhoeffer. Haggis. Great adventure awaiting. I found this song by Ingrid Michaelson (who may be my spirit animal) and it reminded me of how I'm feeling about the move. It's a beautiful unknown and it's going to be. Let us go.
Which is all to say that I still have difficulty remembering that time zones mean at a certain point in my morning, my dad has already gone to bed- or that waiting on news from a time zone ahead of me is contingent on my time still being within their work day. So when I submitted an application for the PhD in Theology/Divinity program at the University of Aberdeen back in December, I had to consciously remind myself that we were 7 hours behind them. Assuming that their workday ends at 5 pm, I should expect no correspondence from them after 10 am.So 10 am came and went day in and day out. The stroke of an hour both a relief that I wouldn't hear bad news that day, but also an aggravation because it meant I wouldn't hear any news either.
To back this up... I had assumed for a very long time that I would end up in graduate school. Being in a classroom for me is like being a fish in water. I breathe more easily. I navigate more fluidly. I'm generally a happier person. There was nothing in my past, save a few miserable math classes, to lead me to believe otherwise. But I also didn't want to be someone who was in school because they didn't want to live int he real world. A PhD program is a lot of work. It would mean not being in Houston. It would mean us essentially living on a single income. I didn't want to make Jack follow me somewhere unless I was positive, but I think in reality I didn't want to apply and be rejected, to have this image of myself as a person who belonged in school to be shattered. Because if I took the chance and failed then I couldn't take the chance again, but the more I tried to eradicate the idea from my life the more it kept creeping up.
And then Dr. Still showed up to teach Wednesday night bible study at South Main back in November and asked me why I hadn't applied and I had to admit that it was because of fear. Being his usual Dr. Still self, he encouraged me to apply, and then I sat in my car and burst into tears because I knew he was right.
Which leads me to December. To say that I agonized over applying is bit of an understatement. There were many pro/con lists. Many lists with Jack's comments scribbled on the side. Many emails to a potential professor (and one very early Skype meeting). Many conversations with both Chris and Sarah about the prospect of us going to the other side of the pond (they were very enthusiastic and have continued to be very helpful). Many revisions of a research proposal and the terrible personal statement. Many furious emails with registrars and degree verification representatives. Many arguments with myself about if this even had a remote possibility of working. Jack is an absolutely fabulous person to have around you in times of extreme self-doubt. His unchecked optimism that we were indeed going to be moving to Scotland balanced out my own reservations that this would be an unmitigated disaster in getting my hopes up. But the professor seemed really interesting and friendly, Jack seemed enthusiastic, and without any application fee there really wasn't anything to lose by submitting an application other than pride.
So it went through the magical internet tubes and I waited. Waiting is particularly hard when there are only a dozen people who know that you are waiting (including the professors writing me letters of recommendation).
And waited.
And waited. Every morning holding my breath for 10 am to come and pass.
And then one day at 9:58 am, when I had more or less given up hope of a response that day, the email came- sliding along those same tubes- congratulating me on my acceptance to the program. Even today, almost 3 months later, my heart beat still increases remembering the anticipation of reading the yes or no.
Because sometimes a yes or no will make all the difference in the world.
Because sometimes you catch your breath by diving into the deep end.
Because sometimes the future is just waiting for you to revolve into it.
So today I can add to my blog two things I've secretly been wanting to add for years, and been guarding close to me heart for months- living aboard and getting into a PhD program.
Jack and I will be leaving in early September for Scotland. I'll be studying Bonhoeffer's ecclesiology as a lens for modern political theology and ethics in a post-modern church, specifically how the church responds to an explosive globalization and individualization. I'm giddy with excitement and nerdiness.I'm also terribly sad (we both are) to be moving away from family and friends and communities that we love in Houston. It'll be Jack's first time living outside of Houston. We're trying to cram a lot into the next few months of Texasness. We're still working out the details of much of it, but we're anticipating the big adventure to come (and immensely grateful for how supportive they've both been through all of this, and how remarkably unsurprised they were that I wanted to apply for a PhD program). We hope you come visit! Scotland is lovely and I won't make you eat haggis. That's not true, I will probably try to make you eat haggis.
But yes. Scotland. Bonhoeffer. Haggis. Great adventure awaiting. I found this song by Ingrid Michaelson (who may be my spirit animal) and it reminded me of how I'm feeling about the move. It's a beautiful unknown and it's going to be. Let us go.
Oh Ingrid. She just knows.
ReplyDeleteSuper excited for you and Jack on this new (scary and amazing) adventure!